Falling For Fortune. Nancy Robards Thompson
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 knew his work probably sounded dull, especially when compared to the exciting life of a traveling rodeo star.
She listened, though, which one would expect from a polite woman, but she had to think that he was the biggest wanker with all his self-talk.
Was his life truly as mundane as it sounded?
They pulled up to the darkened restaurant. He parked, and they climbed out. When they reached the front door, he held it open for her, as the sounds of Linda Ronstadt filled the air.
“Well, it’s not locked yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.” She gazed around the empty room.
There was a single table set, but everything else had been cleared away.
“I’m just on my way out,” Wendy said by way of greeting. “There’s a pan of beef enchiladas in the kitchen and the plates are in the warming drawer. Help yourself to anything behind the bar, and don’t worry about cleaning up. The staff comes in early in the morning.” Then she handed Jensen a key and kissed him on the cheek before rushing out the door.
As Amber looked around, Jensen cursed himself for allowing his cousin to go a little too over the top in staging a romantic dinner for them.
He hadn’t been lying when he told Amber he wasn’t the Casanova type and that he never took the time away from his work or his family to pursue serious relationships—other than a week or two with Monica, although their relationship hadn’t lasted more than a few months, nor had it been serious enough to gain any special attention from the tabloids.
“Do you mean to tell me that you arranged for us to have the place to ourselves?” Amber asked.
“Well, I called Wendy and told her I owed you dinner and that we would be in the cinema until late. All of this wasn’t completely my idea. Unless you think it’s terribly impressive, in which case, it was one hundred percent my doing.”
At that, she blessed him with a pretty smile, and his nervousness—Jensen was never ruffled around the ladies, so where had that come from?—soon dissipated.
“Can I get you a cocktail?” he asked. “Or maybe some wine?”
“A glass of merlot sounds good.”
He went behind the bar, found a nice bottle of California wine and uncorked it. Then he carried it to the table and poured them each a glass.
Hopefully he hadn’t laid it on too thick. He didn’t want her thinking he was trying to seduce her, but at the same time, he had to wonder if deep down, maybe he was.
“I’ll get our dinner.”
As he turned toward the kitchen, she followed him. He should have known Amber wouldn’t be the type of woman to merely sit still at the table like a regal queen, waiting for someone to serve her.
It was one of the things he liked most about her. She always seemed willing to jump in and lend a hand—to his sister, to her grandmother or to anyone who needed it.
After he filled their plates full of hot and cheesy enchiladas, they carried them back to the intimate table, where a small candle flickered in the votive.
Since he didn’t want to give her the impression that he was trying to wine and dine her, he talked about the movie, horses and about anything else that would be considered