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flame and met his gaze。
〃Do you like it？〃 he asked； endearingly eager。
She smiled。 〃I do。〃
〃I asked the maitre d' to bring a bottle of Chassagne de Montrachet。〃
If his fluency in French amazed her； his knowledge of fine wines was no
less astonishing。 Fine wines were something she did know something
about； a legacy of her father's acclaimed cellar。 Unable to resist； she
grinned。 〃So that's how the Army sedates its brats。 Fine wine。 And here
I felt so sorry for you。 I'm sure the Chassagne de Montrachet will be
superb。〃
Ross laughed。 〃The Army had nothing to do with it。 I developed a taste
for wine after I left the Peace Corps。 I have several treasured bottles
at home…a Mouton…Rothschild； a Chateau Lafite…Rothschfld。 My favorite is
a 1959 Ceteaux du Layon from the Loire Valley。〃
〃Whoa。 Very impressive。 What other goodies do you have up your sleeve？〃
His right hand flew to his left cuff； one long finger making a pretense
of searching。 The search was forgotten when the maitre d' reappeared；
wine in hand； to present the bottle to Ross。
While he studied the wine； Chloe studied him。 It was a luxury that the
drive through the night hadn't offered。 Now she drank in his good looks
with as much reverence as he gave to his wine。
He looked wonderful。 His suit was the gray…blue tweed she had seen on the
bed。 Same with his white shirt and crimson…ormavy tie。 She blushed as
she recalled the other items she'd seen； then pushed those aside and
focused on the chiseled features before her。 They were strong； yet
relaxed； and exuded confidence。 The darkness of his hair and the
sun…touched hue of his skin contrasted with his shirt at neck and
wrists； adding a crispness to his appearance that was enhanced by the
fine cut of the obviously handtailored fabric。 He was the epitome of the
man of the world…suave； assured； experienced； and content。 To all
outward appearances he held the world in his palm。
Was he vulnerable in any way？
〃Why the frown； princess？〃 He leaned forward to exclude the maitre d'；
who worked at uncorking the wine。
〃I'm not frowning。〃 But she was。 She felt it。 〃I was wondering 。。。〃
When the maitre d' poured a sip of wine into Ross's glass and waited；
Chloe held the thought。
Ross lifted the long…stemmed goblet； inhaled the scent； took the pale
liquid into his mouth； patiently let his taste buds warm it； finally
swallowed。 〃Excellent；〃 he plimented the very pleased maitre d'。
Without further fanfare the goblets； first Chloe's； then Ross's； were
filled。
〃What were you wondering？〃 Ross asked the instant they were alone again。
〃Whether you're happy。 Are you content with your life？〃
〃For the most part。 There are still things I want。〃 The directness of
his gaze should have tipped her off。
But she was too curious to see。 The softness of her voice spread to her
lips； now moist with wine。 〃What things？〃
〃You hit on them yesterday； actually。 I want a wife and children。〃
〃But you've waited this long。〃
〃Not by choice。〃
〃Then why？〃
His crooked grin did stranger things inside her than even the wine； with
its gentle warming touch。 〃I'm not totally different from that man back
in New Orleans。 I'm an idealist at heart。 I always will be。 I have a
certain image of what love should be like。 If I can't have it that way；
I'd rather not have it at all。〃
Chloe looked down。 What was love？ What would she have wanted from it had
she allowed it into her life？ She watched Ross's fingers； curling
absently around his goblet's stern。 At that moment； love would have
meant reaching out to touch them； to thread hers through them。
Burying her hand in her lap； she said； 〃Tell me about that image； Ross。
In its most ideal form； what should love be like？〃
He stared at her； his eyes a pensive gold。 He seemed to weigh and
balance； to sift through both sides of a private debate as the quiet
sounds of the restaurant drifted by。
Chloe waited； sipping wine； buoyed by it。 Her thoughts wandered； but not
in debate。 There was nothing to debate。 Ross Stephenson was even more
appealing than he had been in her memory all those years。 He was a man
for today； to be sipped and savored like the wine he poured into her now
empty glass。
When he spoke； she was grateful for the wine's mellowing shield。 〃When
was the last time you were home？〃
〃Home？〃
〃New Orleans。 Do you go back there often？〃
〃No。〃 New Orleans was the past。 She wanted the present。 〃What does that
have to do with anything？〃
〃Love。 You asked me about it。 I'm asking you the same。 You loved your
family once。 Do you still？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃But you never see them。 Don't you miss them？〃
Even in spite of the wine； she grew defensive。 〃I do。〃
〃How often do you call home？〃 he asked gently。
〃Every so often。〃
〃And the last time you flew down？〃
She hedged。 〃It was a while ago。〃
When he leaned forward to pursue his point； she sensed that he really
and truly cared。 〃Why； Chloe？ What does love mean to you that you can
ignore those same people who worry themselves sick about you？ That can't
be what love is about。〃
〃We're talking about different kinds of love。 One kind you're born into；
the other you choose。〃
〃The end result is the same。 Once a man and a woman make that mitment
and marry； they face the same kinds of trials that your family faced。
You've run away…〃
〃Don't。〃 She clamped a hand on his arm。 〃Please don't； Ross。 I don't
want to talk about this。〃
His voice gentled。 〃You have to talk about it sometime。 There are so
many things you've refused to face； about yourself； about your family…〃
〃Not tonight；〃 she insisted softly。 She let her eyes plead； only because
her voice kept its dignity。 〃I want to enjoy myself tonight。 Please？〃
Ross stared first at her； then at the tablecloth； then at the far wall。
When his gaze finally returned she saw a glint of humor。 〃When you look
at me like that； I'd do anything！〃
〃Anything？〃 She clutched at that。
〃Anything。〃
〃Then tell me about the Picasso exhibit。 You saw it when it was in New
York； didn't you？ Was it as spectacular as the reviews claimed？〃
〃Every bit。〃
She waited for him to say more； but he simply sta