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some damned movie he wasn’t going to see.
    “May I help you?” asked the gawky teen waiting to take his ticket.
    Tom’s voice was nearly a growl. “This afternoon you said Annie worked tonight.”
    The kid jumped as though Tom had accused him of some atrocity. “Yes, sir, she’s right over there.” He nodded toward the cafe.
    When Tom turned in the direction the boy indicated, he saw Annie staring at him. Suddenly, he felt foolish, and his ears flamed, but it was too late to back out. Although for two days he’d thought of meeting her again, he realized now he’d never actually scripted what he would say to her when he did. As he walked toward her he tried out a couple openings.
    Possibly— Wow, that was some freaky thing the other night, wasn’t it? Or maybe— Does that happen with every guy you meet?
    He used to consider himself a smooth guy with a line, but he was out of practice. Then again, he didn’t need a line tonight. He was there only to discuss a mutual interest. This was just business—weird business but business nonetheless. He took a deep breath, smiled, and stepped up to bat.
    “Hello, Annie,” he said as he approached her. “I’m Tom Cogan.” He lifted his right hand preparing for the customary handshake, thought better of it, and shoved it in his pocket instead. “I’ve been anxious to see you again.”
    “I . . . um . . .” She laughed nervously, then took a deep breath and started over. “So, you remember me.”
    “How could I forget?” His smile stretched to a grin. “You made quite an impression.”
    Annie motioned him toward the cafe tables. “I’m not exactly swamped with customers right now, so I can take a break.”
    “I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about,” Tom said, “so I’ll ask it straight out. What the hell happened the other night when our hands touched?”
    She said nothing, just stared at him for a moment before looking away toward the windows. When she did speak, her voice was so low he wasn’t sure at first she was speaking to him. “That’s never happened to me before. I called it a vision, but I’m not really sure what it was.” She turned back to him, seeking his eyes. “I saw a man die.”
    Tom’s breath caught in his throat, and he dropped his gaze. For a second Annie’s eyes had been as he’d seen them in the vision—wide with horror. If they touched now, would they see that vision again?
    As if she’d read his mind, Annie reached out toward his hand but pulled back at the last second. She tried to disguise the aborted move by brushing nonexistent crumbs off the tabletop. He looked up to find himself staring into the cool, green intensity of her eyes.
    “Do you think it would happen again?” she asked.
    “I just asked myself that. I suppose we should find out.”
    Without taking her eyes off his, Annie reached out again, but this time she completed the motion. For a second, he felt the coolness of her touch and then . . .
     
    “You were promised to me.” He captures her chin between his thumb and forefinger, raising her mouth to meet his.
    “ Take me with you. Anywhere.” She clings to him. “Can we leave now?”
    “I mean to take what is mine.”
    “Please . . . oh, yes, please . . .”
     
    Annie had pulled her hand away but not her gaze. Tom saw no evidence that her heart rocked as hard as his.
    “Nothing. Nothing happened.” He emphasized his denial with a shake of his head, but a remnant of desire roughening his voice threatened to betray the lie. He cleared his throat. “I guess it was just a one-time thing.”
    Annie nodded.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw two couples walk up to the cafe counter. Annie jumped up to serve them. As she hurried away, Tom stood. On legs that felt too weak to hold him, he walked toward the exit.
     
    Annie knew Tom had lied, but she understood why. These visions were too intimate to share with a stranger, and that’s all they were. Strangers. How could she