I don't like having feelings," Eric said coldly, and he left. That was a tough exit line to top.

"Come on," I said, taking his hand. Clutching the afghan with the other hand, he trailed down the hall after me, a snow white giant in tiny red underwear.

Well, that's certainly... adequate," I told him, burying my face in his chest. I knew immediately I'd picked the wrong word. "Adequate?" He took my hand, placed it on the part in question. It immediately began to stir. He moved my hand on it, and I obligingly circled it with my fingers. "This is adequate?" "Maybe I should have said it's a gracious plenty?" "A gracious plenty. I like that," he said.

Then was ashamed of myself. I should be happy for what I'd been given. I hoped God hadn't noticed my lapse in appreciation.

No matter what happens in public—no matter what—don’t doubt that I love you and care about your welfare . . . as much as I am able.

Coffe is the perfume of morning.

Snow, here?" Eric was as delighted as a child. "I love snow!" Why was I not surprised? "Maybe we will get snowed in together," he said suggestively, waggling his blond eyebrows.