the town is quaint-bed and breakfasts, boutiques, and restaurants line the street. he parallel parks between an old dented pickup truck and a shiny black mercedes. the flower-and-cactus-filled spanish-style patio of the restaurant is full, but we decide to wait for an outdoor table. once we're seated, we order margaritas-one classic and one apricot. after a quick glance at the menu, he looks up.

"the puebla-style chicken is cooked over a red oak fire. what do you say we both try that?"

my eyes zero in on it and the words sausage and bananas make my stomach turn. "did you read what it's made with?"

"yes, the splash of sherry sold me."

i roll my eyes. "you are attracted to the foods with alcohol with them."

"no, i'm attracted to what's good," he growls in my ear, setting my already heated body aflame.

since grilled salmon isn't on the menu, i concede and decide to try it.

once we've eaten, we spend the afternoon browsing the shops. one shop sells intensely flavored, tuscan-style oils. jagger lifts a small piece of bread dipped in oil to my mouth. "just try this. i promise it's delicious."

i take a very small bite and the pepper infused in it has a bite that only leaves me wanting more. i take the cup from his hand and a small piece of bread from the basket on the table. "i'll finish that," i say.

his sly grin curves up wider. "i told you you'd like it. i know what you like."

his words grab me and again that feeling overtakes me-the feeling that i know i love this man.

at the end of the old-fashioned street is a small winery-like the one i saw in the ad. a sign above the door reads, "rh