eyes. He wore a black sweater that emphasized the width of his shoulders and a pair of black jeans that accented his long legs. He exuded an aura of strength that she found both comforting and intimidating.
"You said you were an artist," he remarked. "Are you working on anything now?"
"A rather large landscape for the reception area of a law firm."She studied his profile, thinking she would like to paint it.
The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than he asked, "Do you also paint portraits?"
She shivered. Was he reading her mind? But that was impossible - it was merely a coincidence. "I do portraits occasionally. Dogs and cats, too, when I need the money," she said with a smile. "You said you were retired. What line of work were you in?"
"I have tried my hand at many things over the years," he said evasively.
"Like what?"
He plucked one from memory. "I was a night watchman for a while." He didn't tell her it had been during the reign of a king now long forgotten, or that he had been charged with keeping watch over the queen's chamber.
"You didn't get rich being a night watchman," she retorted with a grin.
"Didn't I?"
"Did you?"
He smiled faintly. "Not in the way you mean."
"What else have you done?"
"Many things, but I would rather talk about you."
"There's not much to tell," she said with a shrug. "I graduated fromcollege, I have a job that I love."
"But no husband," he said quietly. "No children."
"Not yet. I don't seem to be very lucky at love."
"So you wish to marry?"
"Of course.Don't you? "
His gaze lingered on her face. "When she says yes, I will marry her."
"Are you engaged?" she asked, clearly alarmed to think she might be out with another woman's fiance.
"No."
He stilled the other questions in her mind with a thought. Now was not the time for her to delve into his love life, or ask questions he did not yet wish to answer.
He pulled into the parking lot behind the theater a few minutes later and switched off the ignition. Exiting the car, he came around to open the door for her. She put her hand into his and slid out of the car. Her skin was warm against his.
He locked the car and they walked around the corner to the theater. He bought two tickets and they entered the lobby.
His nostrils were immediately assaulted by myriad smells: buttered popcorn, candy, lemonade, cheese, hot dogs, onions, mustard and ketchup, the overwhelming scents and emotions that clung to the people milling in front of the counter, making him wonder why he had ever suggested a movie. It had been years since he had been to one; now he remembered why.
He reminded himself to ask her if she wanted something to eat, was grateful when she declined.
Entering the theater, they found two seats near the back. Moments later, the theater went dark and the previews came on.
Dominic concentrated on blocking everything from his mindsave for the woman beside him. In moments, his senses were swimming with her essence. The scent of her hair and perfume teased his nostrils, the heat radiating from her body chased away the coldness that was ever a part of him, and the touch of her arm against his... ah, just that mere touch thrilled him beyond measure.Tracy . He closed his eyes, reveling in her nearness.
"Hey, did you fall asleep already?" she asked, a smile in her voice. "The movie hasn't even started yet."
The sound of her voice warmed him like the sunshine he had not felt in a hundred lifetimes. Opening his eyes, he smiled at her. "No, I was only... enjoying the moment."
"Oh." It was obvious she did not understand, could never understand.
The movie started a few moments later.
She watched the film.
He watched her. She had a very old soul. His mind touched hers and in doing so, he found memories of other times and other places buried deeply in her subconscious, memories of lives she had known and forgotten. She had been a dancer inJerusalem when Herod was king, a queen in an ancient land during the Crusades, a member of a sultan's harem, a witch in Old Salem. She had lived as a slave in the days of the Roman Empire, been a schoolteacher in the Old West, a doctor in a small African village, a freedom fighter inIsrael . He glimpsed images of her as a widowed mother sending her only son off to fight in the War Between