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d.
"What fun would you be drunk?" He paused. "Are you sure you don't want
to listen to Ravel?"
"Don't you like Debussy?" she asked innocently. Ross simply topped off
her wineglass.
In the hours that followed they talked more. Chloe asked Ross about his
childhood and discovered that he had both a sister and a brother, that
he had studied the violin during one of his mother's culture binges, and
that he had been expelled from school for a day after tossing a water
bomb from a second-story building and soaking kids in the playground.
"A water bomb? Ross,coach purses, how could you? That's the type of thing the girls
always hated!"
"That's why I did it."
"Come on," she chided, her eyes half closed, "a ladies' man like you?"
"Sure. I was eight at the time. It satisfied my need for machismo."
Chloe laughed at the idea of an eight-year-old Ross striving for
machismo. He certainly didn't need to strive now.
"You have three brothers, don't you?" Ross picked the perfect time to
turn the conversation. She was in a more relaxed, more open mood than
earlier. It didn't occur to her not to answer.
"Uh-huh. Allan, Chris, and Tim. They've gone into Daddy's business."
She frowned. "I haven't seen them in a while."
"Will you be going down for Thanksgiving next month?"
November was the last time of year she ever went to visit. "No. I think
Tim will be in New York then. I may meet him there. I'm not sure. I
haven't heard from him in a while."
"Do you call them?"
This time, she did smell the trap. "Oh, no,Cheap Gucci, you don't, Ross Stephenson.
I'm not so tipsy that I can't see what you're doing. It won't work."
"You won't tell me about you?" he asked with such honest disappointment
that she almost gave in. Almost, but not quite. There was too much she
didn't want to face tonight. This was a night for the present. She shook
her head in silent insistence.
"Then sit closer." Before she could protest he had shifted so that she
leaned against him as he leaned against the sofa. "There." H