He was like a dream come true. Such a handsome man, so kind and generous. And brilliant. Yes, that he was.

Lucy couldn't believe her luck. She'd fallen head over heels for him the instant they met, his dark eyes glistening with a smile. He'd kissed her hand, like a gentleman should. The first thing she'd noticed about him was his handsome face. She was drawn to it, drawn to him, almost as though hypnotized. They'd been introduced at a party thrown by her cousin, Nathan. Her attraction must have shown because the handsome stranger kept running into her. Either that, or it was fate.

He seemed as though he'd escaped the pages of a romance novel. Ever the gentleman, he offered her glasses of wine, conversation, and genuine interest in her daily life.

"Cookie?" Lucy had just been about to get herself one of those delicious cookies. It must have shown or something, because he had the exact kind she'd wanted.

"Oh, yes! It's very kind of you, Mr.?" "Saxon," he said, twinkling, "Harold Saxon." "I'm sorry; I'd forgotten your name."

"It's alright. Forgivable just this once." A suave grin punctuated his features. "Call me Harold or

Harry."

"Oh!" She blushed.

"Your name was Lucy, wasn't it?" "Mm-hm, that's right."

"So, Lucy," he continued as the bass thumped in the background, "What do you do for a living?" "Well, I'm a preschool teacher. Well, a substitute teacher, anyway."

"Good with children, then?"

Lucy laughed a little. "Yes, I really am. What about you, Mr. Saxon—I mean, Harry?" "Well, I sort of do this and that. Nothing really big."

Nathan had heard the last exchange and put his two cents in: "Oh, come off it, Harold. You're the Minister of Defense, for Heaven's sake!"

Lucy couldn't believe her ears. "The Minister of Defense? As in a cabinet member of Prime Minister Jones?"

"Well, yes, but I don't like to brag. Oh, I'll be right back." Harold left to go talk with the host momentarily. Lucy was struck by the impression that Harold Saxon liked to follow the beat of his own drum. He wasn't walking to the beat of the music, like most people would without thinking.

The party slowed about two o'clock in the morning. Lucy and Harold had talked about all sorts of things, from cars to dogs, television programs to opera. It really was amazing that they liked so many similar things. The same favorite genre of novel—mystery, the same favorite movie ("The part where she cried in the snow…it was so poetic…"), and even similar tastes in music. The last song of the night, after many partygoers had left, was a favorite of the duo. The loud music and the hypnotizing words seemed to fit the scene.

Picture it: two people, seemingly fated to be lovers, dancing together at two thirty in the morning, staring deep into each other's eyes, thump-thump in the music accentuating their heartbeats…and the Universe seemed to slow around them (You're like voodoo, baby/You just take hold). His mind, her mind, the two seemed as one in this moment. They were in love.