Tim noticed her the moment she entered the bar, just as nearly every man there had. He’d come alone, carrying the same loneliness that had followed him for weeks, and fully expected to leave the same way. Women like her didn’t usually walk across crowded rooms toward men like him.
But Marcia was walking directly toward his table.
He watched her twist a ring on her right hand as she crossed the room, and a strange panic seized him. She could have been heading for the bar or the restroom, yet he somehow knew she wasn’t. Tim rose awkwardly to his feet, uncertain whether this was a joke, a misunderstanding, or something far more dangerous.
Up close, Marcia studied him with open curiosity. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair falling near his collar and a mustache that gave him a brooding look. There was nothing flashy about him—nothing that suggested wealth or status—but there was something intense in his eyes that caught her attention immediately.
He leaned closer so he could hear her over the music and conversation.
“You remind me of Heathcliff from the newest Wuthering Heights film,” she said softly.
Tim blinked in surprise. “I do? Is that supposed to be good or bad?”
Marcia smiled, suddenly nervous herself. “Definitely good. Tall, dark, mysterious. You look like someone carrying secrets around with him.”
“It must be the mysterious part,” Tim replied with a grin. “I’m actually just Tim. And since this table opened up, maybe you’d join me for a drink?”
“I’d like that,” she said without hesitation.
The conversation flowed easily after that, helped along by the dim lights and the warmth of the liquor. Tim found himself captivated by her confidence, while Marcia enjoyed the way he watched her like she was the only person in the room.
“What are you thinking about?” he finally asked.
She held his gaze. “Honestly? I was thinking how much you resemble that actor.”
“And how good of a thing is that?”
Marcia’s smile widened. “Good enough that I dreamed about him afterward.”
For a moment, Tim forgot how to speak. Then he laughed nervously. “I’d be happy to sweep you off your feet myself.”
“Would you?” she asked.
He swallowed hard beneath her steady stare. “Yes. I think I would.”
“Then stand up,” Marcia said softly. “And let’s get out of here.”