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they’re caught between a
light and a dark color.” He was an utterly spectacular man, handsome in a way
that she had only seen in movies.
    “They’re as dark brown as you
can get before hitting black,” he said. “I’ve heard that in certain light,
there are flecks of something you can see, but I’ve never noticed one way or
another. Yours, on the other hand, are a very lovely hazel, perfectly balanced.
Yet, I have a feeling they can go either way on the color scale.”
    “I wouldn’t know.” She leaned
back in her seat when the waitress brought her drink. “My sister tells me that
my hair is red. I don’t know, so I guess she’s right.” She had never thought
anything of not being able to see color, not until Jason. Now she wanted to see
every single part of him, vividly.
    “Your hair is definitely red.
Not brassy, though. Richer. Not quite a wine color, but a more vibrant step up.
It’s very pretty,” he told her with a smile. “Your eyebrows are a couple of
shades darker, and your lashes are brown. You also have these really lightly
colored freckles all over your nose and cheeks. An amazing package all around,
I’ll admit freely.”
    Vivian began to pleat and fold
her napkin. “Sweet of you to say. I think you might need to have your eyes
examined, though, because I’ve never had anyone give me anything so much as a
glance.” She had dated, but no one had ever gone into such intricate detail
about her looks or made her feel as special as this man did with just a few
sentences.
    “I don’t need glasses,” Jason
said with amusement. “I’m just stating facts. James, back me up here—have I
spoken untrue?”
    “Not at all. He didn’t even go
into the finer details, like the exotic tilt of your eyes. The unique tone of
your skin that seems to hover on the edge of a tan, yet still has a hint of
milky paleness to it. Hell, ma’am, he’s actually leaving out a lot.”
    “I didn’t want to make her
uncomfortable,” Jason muttered, with a glare at his friend.
    Viv turned her face down and
smiled, cheeks heating again. “You’re both too sweet,” she said. “James, your
accent is very southern.” She had to change topics or she was going to burn up
with as much as she was blushing. “Where are you from?” She found herself
reaching out to place her hand on top of Jason’s.
    “Well, ma’am,” James grinned,
“I’m a good old southern boy. I was born in Illinois but did most of my growing
up and living in the deeper south. Jason here is all Greek, though he’s been
around us Americans enough that we’ve gotten rid of most of that prissy
sounding accent. Not all of it, though.”
    Vivian laughed at that. She
couldn’t help herself. “Well, you don’t sound like you’re from Illinois.
Seriously, you don’t.” She shook her head. “This is nice. I miss having company
for dinner,” she admitted. Typically, she and Sophia dined together. However,
they may not see or talk to each other at all in the space between.
    “You mentioned a sister,” Jason
said. He leaned back while the waitress set out the appetizers. “Younger?
Older? What does she do?” He sounded genuinely curious.
    “Sophia is younger than I am by
two years. She’s a true free spirit.” Viv smiled but lost it quickly. “She’s
survived a lot more than anyone should have to. As for what she does…” She
nodded to the massive painting that hung on the wall behind them. The scene was
one from ancient times. The perfection of the field of daisies was magnificent.
It was pure, untouched. “She’s a painter.”
    Both men spun to look. As they
turned back, she noticed a look pass between them. “She’s very good,” James
told her. “You can practically feel the heat of the sun and the breeze coming
across the meadow.”
    Viv beamed proudly. “She’s a
complete sweetheart, too. She’s one of those rare people that you meet and you
want to stay around, one of those people who draws others into their orbit