“But she also sensed it wasn't enough. She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversation in candlelit rooms, or perhaps something as simple as not being second.”

“She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms, or perhaps something as simple as not being second.”

“Romance is thinking about your significant other, when you are supposed to be thinking about something else.”

“She wasn't fantasy anymore. But something real, something he couldn't imagine living without, and he crossed his arms, as if bracing himself from the possibility that all this might slip away.”

“But even though she was attractive, there was something else about her that caught his eye. She was intelligent, he could sense that right away, and confident, too, as if she were able to move through life on her own terms. To him, these were the things that really mattered. Without them, beauty was nothing.”

“I'd have to swing by the house first to change into something more comfortable.”“That's fine,” he said. “I'm all for you changing into something more comfortable.”“I'll bet you are,” she said knowingly.“Now, don't start getting fresh,” he said, feigning offense. “I don't think we know each other well enough for that.”

“She couldn't think of anyone else who remotely resembled him. He was complicated, almost contradictory in so many ways, yet simple, a strangely erotic combination. On the surface he was a country boy, home from war, and he probably saw himself in those terms. Yet there was so much more to him. Perhaps it was the poetry that made him different, or perhaps it was the values his father had instilled in him, growing up. Either way, he seemed to savor life more fully than others appeared to, and that was what had first attracted her to him.”