ONE NIGHT TOGETHER

She found the list when she searched for her clothes on the floor of the bedroom. "Bingo, auction, shopping, quilt show, antiques, tea, canasta." Rose looked over at the cowboy who had just pulled on his jeans. He was entirely too sexy and too appealing for his own good. The urge to tumble him back into bed was almost irresistible, but rose knew they didn't have much time before they would return to the ranch for dinner. "What's this?"

"The auntie list."

"Really?" She looked at the activities listed. The antique shopping and the quilt show had actually been fun, even though at the time she'd been more than a little nervous in Andrew's company. "We didn't do them all."

"Yeah, well, sex wasn't on the list." He sat on the bed and started pulling on his boots, but looked over to smile at her. "At least, not until I saw you standing there in the driveway."

"Neither was painting the living room," she said.

"But we did a good job with that, too."

He Winced. "Don't remind me. I didn't bring you over here to make you work."

"I like painting." She still had splatters of dried snowflake-white paint on her arms. "And I like your house." She held up the list as she walked over to him. "Were you really going to take me to play bingo?"

"No. I was going to pay Mrs Martin to do it." He held out his hand and took hers. She went willingly into his arms.

"I think I like this better than bingo," she whispered against his mouth. "And I like you better than Mrs Martin."

"I like you better than Mrs Martin, too," Andrew said, laughing softly before he kissed her.

Later, while riding back to the Dead Horse in Andrew's battered truck, Rose slipped on her sunglasses and watched the flat landscape pass by. Was falling in love really this easy? And if it was, why hadn't she fallen in love before now? Other men had come into her life. Sort of. She turned to look at Andrew, all western male driving his truck and listening to Willie Nelson on the cassette player. They had nothing in common, she reminded herself. They were from two different parts of the country. They had only known each other a few days, unless she counted February. The sudden intimacy last winter, the amazing circumstances that led to seeing him again combined to make her wonder if Fate was trying to tell her something.

She was painting his walls. She'd promised to help pick out scatter rugs at the department store. It was the first time in her life she'd felt safe, as if there was someone to lean on when things went wrong.

Andrew was the kind of man a woman could depend on, no matter what.

But neither one of them talked about what would happen after the wedding.

Rose took a muffin left over from breakfast and buttered it before sitting down at the kitchen table. "It has?" Francisca had burst into tears Tuesday night when she burned her carefully prepared pan of lasagna, prompting Bobby to run into town and bring back pizza. Last night hadn't been much better, with Francisca determined to experiment with an apple-topped pork roast. Unfortunately she had forgotten to turn on the oven, so Andrew had grilled steaks while Rose put together a salad. The men had eaten pork sandwiches for lunch this afternoon.

"Yes. I never knew dough could be so much fun."