ONE NIGHT TOGETHER

Rose sighed and held out her glass. "Could I have some more of that?"

"Yes ma'am." Andrew poured another generous helping for both of them. "I never heard of anyone wanting to see an outhouse before."

"They will use any excuse to be alone," she said, taking the glass. "Thank you."

"They are in love."

"They are in lust," she countered. "There's a difference."

"Yes." Lust was strangers in a hotel room. Love was weddings and kids and no turning back. "But there's nothing wrong with it."

"Of course there is." She sounded sad. "I am so embarrassed about that night."

"You shouldn't be."

"No?" she turned her face to his, her serious gaze focused on his eyes. "Having sex with a stranger isn't something to be embarrassed a? of course it is."

He put down his empty glass and took her face between his hands. Her skin was like satin against his callused fingers. "There's no shame in touching you," he whispered, running one thumb gently across her lips when she would have opened her mouth to protest.

"She," he told her, stepping closer. He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. He'd meant to be cautious so she wouldn't back away from him, but the instant his lips touched hers he knew that careful was impossible. Stopping was impossible, too, he realized. Just as before.

Because Rose's lips were warm and sweet and opening for him. Because Rose's hands were on his forearms, as if she couldn't decide whether to keep him from leaving or to push him away. He continued to hold her face while he tasted her mouth, felt her melting against his lips and tongue, knew the heat was rising fast. Faster than he remembered.

Francisca's laughter forced Andrew to remember where he was, a rough cabin much different than the luxurious hotel room with Its king-size bed and smooth and room service from which to order turkey sandwiches and chocolate cake at midnight.

Andrew released Rose, though he thought it would kill him. He was surprised that his hands didn't shake when he dropped them from her face.

Chatter between Francisca and Bobby came from around back. "They are heading toward the horses,"

Andrew said, his voice sounding throaty as he spoke.

"We'd better go." She tucked loose strands of hair behind one ear, and her fingers shook.

Andrew took the trembling hand and put it to his lips. "It's going to be alright, Roro," he told her, using the Chicago nickname deliberately.

Her smile was lopsided. "I'm supposed to be chaperoning my niece and look what happens."

"Wait," she said, planting her feet when he took one step toward the door. "What happened to us last winter was.... very unusual. We were both in a strange situation and it just... escalated. And I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

"I didn't come to Texas for sex, Andrew."

"I know you didn't, sweetheart," he said, leading her toward the cabin door. "But while you are here, you really should keep an open mind."

Her laughter surprised him, but then again, he should have expected the unexpected from Rose. Andrew whistled as they headed across the field, mostly to warn Bobby that they were about to have company. It was awfully quiet over by the Grove of trees, and Andrew figured Bobby was taking advantage of the privacy.