I’m by myself,” she said finally. “No family to speak of.”

“I see.” Leaning forward again, he rested his arms against the table. “That must be rather difficult.”

“Sometimes.”

“And lonely, I imagine. Perhaps that is why you came here tonight?”

Her jaw popped under the strain of maintaining decorum. “First: I said I was alone, not lonely. There's a big difference. And second: is that really why you think I'm here?”

“I do not know what to think. I know you must have reasons for being here other than what you have already hinted at. Reasons important enough to make an otherwise intelligent woman not only bring food to a stranger so late at night, but also accept his invitation to sit inside an empty motel room without a second thought.”

“Why don't you just call me a hooker while you're at it?

Angela B. Wade