ONE NIGHT TOGETHER

Rose didn't want to dream of kisses. Or cowboys. Or the way the moon highlighted the planes of Andrew's handsome face as he'd bent down to kiss her three hours and twenty-six minutes ago.

Very much the same way he'd kissed her that first time in Chicago. There had been brandy that night, too, warming her throat and making her content with the world, even though the part of the world she could see from the hotel window was nothing but blank snowy white.

******

"Roro?" he'd said, coming to stand behind her as she'd looked into the snowy night. Only a few headlights broke up the darkness. He'd put his large hands on her shoulders and she'd leaned back just a little, to show she didn't mind. But she'd wondered if she'd gone a little bit crazy, especially when he'd turned her toward him and she went right into his arms without a second thought.

He'd held her face so softly. And he'd kissed her, a tentative touch that turned quickly into something else, something as fierce and overwhelming as the storm outside the window.

Something that could overturn her careful schedule as easily as a winter blizzard.

They'd had such fun being snowbound together. He'd told her stories of Texas; she told him of her students, the best and the worst. He'd rechecked into his room and given her the key. But of course she'd invited him up to the room for coffee and brandy. Neither one of them wanted to be alone, and it was only polite to share the room until evening forced them to separate. She hadn't expected to feel so attracted to the cowboy, to wonder what it would be like to touch him. To be touched by him.

Rose wondered if she should blame the storm for this rising sexual tension in the room, if fate and the weather has forced them together to see what would happen.

All Rose knew was that she felt just a little bit crazy. And, when this extremely appealing man took her into his arms, not so alone.

******

There were some nights when she hated being alone. No wonder she couldn't sleep, Rose realized, struggling out of the bed to find Pookie. She lifted the snoring dog out of his bed and put him on hers, then got under the sheet once again. Pookie nestled against her, content. And Rose envied him.

Tomorrow she would put her foot down, gather the plane tickets and make plans to leave. She had to go home before she was tempted to sleep with someone other than the six-pound Shih Tzu.

"IT'S OFFICIAL," Bobby announced to the men at breakfast in the bunkhouse. "I'm really getting married."

"No kidding?" Marty grinned. "That's damn good news, Calhoun. But you said that weeks ago."

"This time it's real."

Bobby leaned over and tossed the pepper shaker to the other end of the table, where Andrew caught it and handed it to the older man.

"Does her aunt know?" Andrew asked.

"Francisca's going to tell her this morning," Bobby said, glancing to the clock on the microwave. "Probably in about an hour."

Andrew leaned back in his chair and ignored the pile of eggs on his plate. He'd cooked them thinking he was hungry, but this information was more important. "And you think her aunt's going to approve?"

The kid shrugged. "Dunno."

"But wasn't that the reason your girlfriend brought her aunt out to the ranch?" Andrew asked.

"Yep. Aunt Roro sure enjoyed those antique stores you took her to. What are you doing today?"

"I have tickets to the Grange quilt show," Andrew muttered, wishing he could take Rose back to the old cabin for a couple of hours. That woman had kissed him back and then hadn't spoken another word all the way to the ranch. He'd give a hell of a lot right now to know what she was thinking. She sure wasn't leaving today, he knew that.

"Quilt show?" Shorty guffawed. "You are gonna spend your day off at a quilt show?"

"Beats cleaning out a barn," Andrew answered, thinking of the work he had to do on his own place.

One day a week next gave him enough time to make much progress, that was certain.

Shorty rose and picked up his empty dishes.

"Does that mean I have to take care of that dog again?"

"I'll make it worth your while. Marty's mother doesn't want him in the house when no one's with him." Andrew recalled Mrs Martin complaining this morning that Bobby and Francisca were up to no good last night under the guise of walking the dog. She also said the dish towels were a disgrace, the hot water heater was set too low, and she was certain Pookie had taken liberties with the rug by the back door, but she couldn't prove it.

"Twenty bucks," Shorty declared.

"Just don't lose him this time," Bobby warned. "It took us an hour to find the little guy yesterday."

"How the hell was I supposed to know he liked to hide in beds?" He tossed the dishes in the sink.

"Whose turn is it to clean up?"