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almost married. The same woman he thought while freezing in the lab might be happy about his demise.
                  As she stood there, a flood of memories washed over him.
     
    ***
                  Mark began dating Sara Jo about two years earlier. He knew dating the dean’s daughter held some risk, but the attraction he felt prevailed over logic.
                  It all began when he attended a welcome-back-to-school party at Dean Miller’s home shortly after the fall semester began. Dean Miller’s wife had passed away years ago, and his daughter, an only child, helped host the party.
    Sara Jo had only recently returned from California, where she had lost her job as a successful executive for a large corporation when a merger eliminated her position.
    She was a tall , slender brunette with turquoise blue eyes and a California-tanned body covered with a black cocktail dress that highlighted her well-proportioned figure. The dress was short and Mark immediately noticed her athletic legs, muscles made tense by the three-inch high heels she wore. Dean Miller introduced them and then stepped away to welcome another guest. Mesmerized, Mark stared at her divine face framed by long, flowing hair.
                  “What can I get you to drink, Mark?” Sara Jo asked with a warm smile and shadowy, sultry eyes that captivated him even further.
                  It took him a moment to break away from her spell. He finally managed, “Uh, red wine, please.” As an afterthought, he attempted humor. In his best James Bond imitation, he said, “Shaken, not stirred.”
                  But for a slight smile, she remained unmoved, simply asking, “California or French?”
                  The James Bond reference was stupid and hadn’t worked, but he wasn’t giving up. Knowing she had recently returned from the West Coast, Mark replied in a conspiratorial tone, “I like bold ones from California.”
                  As he had hoped, this time she took advantage of his opening, “I just came from California and I’m fairly bold.” Her steady smile, let alone her repartee, was disarming.
                  After a moment’s hesitation, a response came to him, “You seem to have a forward taste, but do you have a strong finish?”
                  He had finally broken through the steely facade. She blushed, saying, “Touché.”
                  Mark laughed, “You really are a red from California!”
                  Giggling, all barriers down now, her face reddened even more. “Let me get you that wine.” She made a hasty retreat.
    H e observed her backside with satisfaction as she walked away, thinking Dean Miller’s wife must have been an attractive woman.
                  Throughout the evening, whenever their paths crossed, one of them would make a comment about red wine, bringing smiles to the other. Because of her hosting duties, however, Mark never got the chance to spend much time with her. He had a strong desire to see Sara Jo for longer than a minute or two.
    A t the end of the evening, as he was saying goodbye to her at the front door, he asked, “Perhaps we could share a bottle of red wine sometime?”
                  Without hesitation, Sara Jo responded, “I would like that very much.” Then she kissed him gently on the cheek, lingering slightly.
                  Mark was hooked, looking forward with great anticipation to their next encounter.
     
                  Following that subsequent bottle of California cabernet, they dated for about a year, becoming very close very quickly, soon spending every free moment together. As his relationship with Sara Jo grew, so did his relationship with her father. Mark enjoyed spending time with Dean Miller and learned that father and daughter had a special bond, derived in part from Sara Jo