SHE'S IN LOVE

Francisca gave her a disgusted look. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"He's a very good-looking man," Rose admitted, praying Francisca wouldn't notice that her aunt was blushing.

"And you have kissed him, remember?"

She remembered. How could she forget, when she could still feel his hands on her skin? Rose headed toward the door, but not before her niece asked another question.

"Are you in love with him?"

"Of course not." Which, come to think of it, was not exactly true. She still wasn't sure if what they experienced was lust or infatuation or love, but she really didn't think it was the kind of emotion that led two people to decide to spend the rest of their lives together.

"Here, auntie." Francisca tossed her a cookbook, which Rose caught before it fell to the floor.

'Barbecue: The way to a Texan's Heart' Rose read aloud. "What's this for?"

"In case you need it."

Rose closed the door on her giggling niece. She scooped up Pookie, bed and all, and didn't realize until she was in her room that she still held the little cookbook in her hand. She set both the book and the dog on her lonely-looking bed before changing into her nightgown. She'd spent several hours making love with and sleeping with a man she barely knew, and yet if anyone asked her if she was in love she would say yes.

Even if she wasn't exactly sure what being in love meant. She knew about grief and responsibilities and dedication. She knew about high school crushes and college coffee dates and even the warm glow of dating a mature man who looked at her as if she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, until he started dating his ex-wife again.

Rose turned up the air-conditioning, spread her flower garden quilt on the bed, rearranged Pookie so he wasn't under the covers---yet---and set the cookbook on the nightstand.

And tried not to dream of the man she'd just made love to.

ANDREW WAS LATE getting over to the ranch house. Too many sleepless nights and then making love to Rose last night had caused him to sleep like a dead man until six-thirty. He'd never even heard alarm at five.

The bunkhouse coffee was gone, so he made a fresh pot and drank two cups while deciding if he'd go on over to the main house and see her before he started work.

Or he could take the day off and have Bobby take care of that shipment of cattle and the meeting with the accountant at eleven. Maybe he'd take the day and paint the inside of his house, make it look like more of a home. It sure hadn't looked like much last night, not either he or Rose had cared.

Shorty shuffled into the bunkhouse kitchen and helped himself to a cup of coffee. "You are running late today."

"Yeah." Andrew finished the last of the coffee in his mug and set it in the sink. "First time in years."

"You going anywhere?"

"Why?" Andrew asked.

"Figured I'd have to take care of that silly dog of Ms Marti's again." Shorty sank down into a battered leather recliner. "I've never seen an animal like that before in my life, except on television."

"Me, either."

"I suppose they will be leaving after the wedding?"

"I suppose." Not if Andrew had anything to say about it. He thought he'd better find out if Rose was awake or if she'd disappeared. suddenly he didn't feel so good, as if the bottom of his stomach had fallen right down to his boots.

"The little gal made biscuits," Shorty said.

"You'd best get over there before they are all gone."

"Biscuits?"

"Well, sort of, I guess. I can't remember what she called them." Shorty opened yesterday's newspaper and began to read the sports page. "I got that engine oiled up on the tractor, so let me know if you want me to take it over to Dusty at the north ranch."

"Yeah," Andrew said, but his thoughts weren't on

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