a pair of black slacks, a white shirt and a red bow tie asked, “What can I get you?”
Jensen asked Amber, “What’s your preference?”
“Something to drink—and maybe some munchies, like popcorn, I suppose.”
“Very well then. We’ll have a large buttered popcorn, a Kit Kat, a package of red licorice, those funny American sour candies shaped like naughty children and two large colas.”
“Seriously?” she asked. “How long is this movie?”
“If I remember correctly, it’s two hours and forty-five minutes, but it’s one of the few long classics without a proper intermission, so I thought we should stock up.”
The clerk tallied the order, and as Jensen paid the bill, it took only a moment to realize Mr. Murdock had received one hell of a senior discount. No wonder the proprietorship was able to get by charging such an inexpensive admission fee. They more than made up their loss on ticket sales here at the concession stand. Not that Jensen was complaining by any means. It was merely his habit as a financier to crunch the numbers and decide whether an establishment would succeed or not. Clearly, this place would do well on popcorn alone!
He reached for their refreshments and tried to balance one of the packs of candy and the popcorn container in his left hand, while grabbing his drink with the other.
Amber, proving herself to be quite practical, as usual, took the candy out of his hand and tossed it, along with the other packages, into her handbag before picking up her own cola and following him into the theater.
“Look, they have balcony seating,” he said, not the least bit embarrassed about his excitement over the novelty.
“It seems kind of far away from the screen.” Amber raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think many people choose to sit in the nosebleed section these days.”
“Come now. It’s not that high. Besides, it’ll be much more private up there.”
When they settled into the velveteen upholstered seats, he took in all the details of the old-time cinema setting, feeling as though he’d traveled back in time to 1958, when the movie was first released.
The Gregory Peck and Jean Simmons film had been quite popular in Britain back in its day, and Jensen had seen it before on DVD and cable. But with the cinematography so up close and personal, the way the producers had originally intended, the experience couldn’t be beat.
He glanced at Amber, who’d placed a red licorice stick in her mouth, her lips wrapped around it, taking it in...
Talk about new experiences. Being seated next to the beautiful and sexy Amber Rogers made it a bit difficult to keep his mind on the screen, especially when he was tempted to reach over and slip his hand in hers. But he forced himself to focus on the movie.
When Peck’s character, sea captain James McKay, left New England, moved out west and fell in love with a wealthy cattleman’s daughter, Jensen could relate to the man feeling like a fish out of water in a way he hadn’t been able to before.
And when McKay dumped the spoiled Patricia in favor of the beautiful Julie, played by Jean Simmons, a funny burble welled up in his stomach—and it had nothing to do with the extra butter on the popcorn or the sugar high coursing through his bloodstream.
Hadn’t he recently dumped the spoiled Monica, only to come to Texas and meet Amber...?
No, the similarity ended there. Everything was so much simpler in the movies, which was probably why he always found them to be such a pleasant escape from reality. But in the real world, men like him and James McKay had no business playing cowboys out west.
Yet, sometime during the course of the picture show, he’d succumbed to temptation and reached for Amber’s hand. And while they sat in the intimate confines of the darkened balcony, he fought the growing urge to take her in his arms and promise her the world—or at least the water rights to a sprawling ranch. But he restrained himself, knowing they’d each have to return to their own lives soon. Their very different, very separate lives.
As the lights turned on and the curtain closed, he continued to sit in his seat, holding her hand, not breathing a word and trying to make the fantasy last for just a few more heartbeats.
Actually, he wasn’t quite sure what fantasy he was trying to envision. Was he seriously entertaining the possibility that he and Amber might share something more than popcorn and candy at a movie?
“This was actually very nice,” Amber said, interrupting what could surely be a dangerous line of thinking. But she didn’t pull her hand away. And when she cast him a pretty smile, he felt as if he’d just won the UK National Lottery.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He glanced down at the empty popcorn bucket in her hands. “Hopefully, I didn’t fill you up on too much junk food because I had my cousin Wendy set up something for us at her restaurant.”
Amber glanced at her wristwatch. “But isn’t the Hollows Cantina closed now?”
“Yes, it is. And that makes my surprise all the more special.”
Her brow lifted again. Why was she so skeptical of anything he said?
“Are you going to cook for me?” she asked.
“No, not exactly. I’ve never been much of a chef. Why? Should I have prepared something for you myself?”
“No, of course not. I only...well, it’s just that Elmer took Gram on a date yesterday. And they came here to the movie theater. Then he cooked her a fancy gourmet dinner. I was beginning to think that you were getting dating tips from Elmer Murdock.”
Jensen laughed. “I can see why you might. And while Mr. Murdock is full of advice, some of which actually has merit, I came up with this one on my own. He merely mentioned the Golden Horseshoe, and I thought about bringing you here. But the dinner afterward was completely my idea.”
She sighed with relief. “That does make me feel better.”
“I must admit that some of my previous dates might wish that I sought out some dating tips from a real master, though.”
The hint of a smile blessed her lips—pretty lips, full and kissable. “I don’t buy that, Sir Jensen. The way the tabloids link you with a new starlet or supermodel every other month, it’s obvious that the women clamor to be your next conquest.”
He laughed as he escorted her out of the nearly empty theater. “Yes, one would get that impression. But don’t believe everything you read and see. In reality, my work and family obligations keep me far too busy for much of a romantic life.”
“Speaking of work,” she said, as he opened the door to his truck for her, “tell me more about what you do.”
Was she trying to change the subject on purpose because she wanted to discourage him from thinking about any possibility of a romance building between them? Maybe she was trying to remind him to stick to friendly and neutral topics.
He got in on the driver’s side, started the truck and headed toward his cousin’s restaurant, telling her about his job as a financier at Chesterfield Ltd. and what it entailed.
He
