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