had a thing for red roses, she thought, smiling, as she arranged the flowers in a blue-and-white ceramic vase and placed them on the mantel near the others.
That day, as never before, she was aware of time passing as she waited for sundown. Dominic was unlike any man she had ever dated before. Though he looked to be in his early thirties, he seemed older, somehow. Perhaps it was his bearing, or perhaps it was his courtly,Old World manner and speech.
She completed the landscape she had been working on before she moved. When it was dry, she would frame it, then wrap it and ship it to her client inVirginia . Like most artists, she usually had more than one painting in the works at a time. She currently had a seascape, a still life, and a floral in various stages of completion.
She ate a quick lunch, threw a load of laundry in the washer, and changed the sheets on her bed, always watching the clock.
Finally it was time to get ready. She chose a yellow flowered sundress and sandals, tied her hair back in a ponytail, and spritzedherself with cologne. Grabbing a warm sweater, she slipped it on,then left the house.
It was a lovely evening with a touch of a sea breeze. She paused at the top of the stairs that led to the beach to admire the sunset, which was breathtaking. The blue-sky canvas was awash with flaming red and orange, highlighted with brilliant splashes of ochre and darkening shades of purple and indigo.
With a sigh of appreciation for the work of the Master Painter, she started down the stairs.
Dominic was waiting for her at the bottom. He wore a white shirt open at the throat, white trousers, and sandals. The contrast with his black hair and dark skin was striking and she felt her breath catch in her throat when he offered her his hand. "Good evening."
"Hi."
His skin was cool, his fingers long and strong as they folded over hers. His touch sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
"How was your day?"
"Busy," she replied."Yours?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Peaceful."
"You're lucky." She glanced at the horizon. "That's a beautiful sky."
"Indeed."
"I love painting sunrises and sunsets," she remarked as they walked toward the water. The tide was out and the ocean was calm, a green mirror that reflected the sun's dying rays.
"I have not seen a sunrise in many years," he said.
"You need to get up earlier."
"Would that I could."
"Why can't you?"
He squeezed her hand. "I tend to stay up late, and sleep late."
"Well, sunsets are beautiful, too."
"As are you."His gaze moved over her. "You growmore lovely each time I see you."
A blush warmed her cheeks. "Thank you. And thank you for the roses."
"You are most welcome."
They walked in silence for a time. Her hand fit comfortably in his and she had the inexplicable feeling that they had walked this way many times before, which was impossible, she thought, since they had just met.
When they reached a sheltered cove, they stopped of one accord. Out of sight of passersby, Dominic drew her close, his arms loosely locked around her waist.
He looked into her eyes, an unspoken question in his gaze.
Tracy's heartbeat quickened as she put her arms around his neck and lifted her face for his kiss.
His kiss.Her eyelids fluttered down. How to describe the indescribable? His lips were firm and cool and yet heat flowed through her at their touch, a warm, sweet fire that threatened to engulf her until only ashes remained. His arms tightened around her, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. His desire was obvious as he drew her body closer to his.
She was breathing heavily when they parted. "I think we'd better go."
"As you wish," he replied, his voice rough with need.
They strolled hand in hand back the way they had come, pausing now and then to share a kiss when no one was looking.
When they reached her door, he kissed her yet again, a kiss of such passion and possession that it frightened her even as it left her aching and yearning for more.
Chapter 3
Dominic sent her red roses every day for the next two weeks, took her out every night. They went to the theater to seeThe Phantom of the Opera .Tracy cried unashamedly at the end, moved to tears by the sad plight of the Phantom, at the soul-deep note of despair in his voice as he bid farewell to Christine, and then watched her