AUNT RORO

Then the car door opened to reveal another woman in the process of getting out of the car, awkward because her arms were loaded with jackets and bags. She wore something tan and short-hell, he could see half of her thighs but he wasn't complaining and sandals with heels finished off a damn good-looking set of legs. He couldn't see her face, because she had turned around to talk to the younger woman, but he saw a gold-streaked chestnut hair that fell to her bare shoulders.

She was clearly not an old-lady aunt. Andrew continued to stride toward them, worried that the older woman was still in the car, possibly afraid of the dog or waiting for someone to help her out.

"Andrew! come on over here and meet everyone," Bobby called, waving one arm in his direction while hanging on to the girlfriend with the other.

Gus, standing on his hind legs, was busy jumping on the other woman, who freed over arm to bat him away. "Get down," he heard her command, and the dog did exactly that with his tail between his legs as he sought shelter behind Bobby.

She glanced in Andrew's direction, her eyes hidden by sunglasses too large for her face, and continued to stare at him as he approached the car. He knew he should have cleaned up before they got here, but he'd gotten caught up with the horses longer than he'd planned.

"Here's Francisca Handel," Bobby announced, his arm curled possessively around a petite blonde. "Francisca, this is Andrew Johnson, ranch Foreman."

He'd never seen anyone less likely to be a ranch wife, Andrew decided, shaking Francisca's delicate hand.

She was a pretty young woman, so he co see why Bobby was smitten with her. It wasn't his business if she looked more like a centerfold than a fiancée. "Welcome to the Dead Horse ranch," he said politely.

"Thanks. I'm really glad to be here."

"And this here's Francisca's aunt," Bobby said, stifling a laugh as he gestured toward the woman in the short skirt. "Aunt Roro."

Andrew turned to look at her. "Aunt Roro?"

"My aunt Rose," Francisca said. "Aunt Roro is just a nickname."

"Please call me Rose," the woman said.

And then he knew. Or he thought he did. Andrew narrowed his eyes and studied this aunt who wasn't an old lady and who wasn't at all what he expected.

She was the right height, about five-seven. The right shape, with an unforgettable pair of long legs. She wore no wedding ring, and her fingers were long, the nails polished and perfect. The hair was lighter and longer, the mouth...

"Andrew? You want to help me with the bags?"

"Sure." But he didn't turn away, even though Rose followed Bobby to the back of the Cadillac. That's when Andrew noticed that the jacket she held in her arms had brown hair, bulging eyes and a ponytail on top of its head "what the he--heck is that?"

Francisca reached out and plucked the animal from her aunt's embrace. "This is Pookie. He's a Shih Tzu. Isn't he cute?"

And here he'd thought nothing could make him stop staring at Aunt Roro. "It's a dog?"

She cuddled the passive animal as if it was a baby woke Gus ventured closer to have a sniff. "Sort of."

"Don't let Gus get near it," Andrew warned , picking up the bags that Bobby deposited on the ground.

"I'm not sure if he'd think it was something to eat or something to chase."

Francisca held the dog higher in her arms, and the creature snuggled into her neck. "We will be careful. we couldn't leave him in a kennel because he gets scared."

After seeing Rose, Andrew was a little scared himself. She had to be the same woman. If she would only take those sunglasses off so he could get a look at her face,v then he would know. He stared at her again, but she gave him a quick smile and then ignored him.

"You will have to excuse Andrew," Bobby said, shutting the trunk. "We were expecting an, uh, older lady."

Rose glanced at her niece. "How old?"

"Really old." Bobby grinned and picked up the last bag.

"I'm sure that's how Francisca thinks of me," Rose said. "I have taken care of her for years and I do my best to protect her from...trouble."

There was a warning in those words, Andrew realized, as he followed the women the main house.

Maybe Bobby had better not count his chickens before they said, "I DO."

"You are gonna have a real nice time," Bobby said, leading the way as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Everyone likes Dead Horse. And Beauville is a real nice town, too, just forty miles from here, real close."

"I love it already,"; Francisca declared.

Andrew would have given a lot to know what Aunt Rose was thinking. And if she was the same woman he'd made love to last February.

THERE WERE TIMES when life wasn't fair, Rose decided. Times when fate played nasty, sneaky, mean little tricks on people who most certainly did not deserve it. Such as now, when she was only trying to be a good aunt.

Rose had not expected to run into this particular man. Not here. Not now. Not ever. She Wondered if she was blushing. Rose managed to stride across the dusty yard to Bobby Calhoun's house without turning and running to the Cadillac to make a quick escape back to the airport.

She admired the enormous, air-conditioned kitchen, greeted an unhappy-looking housekeeper and remembered to thank Bobby for his hospitality.

She didn't meet the questioning gaze of Andrew Johnson. Instead she asked where Pookie could be, hoping he wasn't getting in the way of the ranch animals. And all the time she was praying to all the Gods in the heavens that Andrew the cowboy wouldn't recognize her.

"That's a dog?" Mrs Martin asked. "He isn't going to make a mess on my clean floors, is he?"

Rose certainly hoped not, but with Pookie the were no guarantees. "We will watch him very carefully." It was the best she could come up with.

"He's not very smart," Francisca explained, turning the dog to face Mrs Martin. "But he loves to be held. And he's very sweet."

"Hmph." It was all the stocky woman said, removing her apron to hang it on a hook by the door. "There's a chicken casserole in the oven in case you get hungry later on," she told Bobby. "Ices tea's in the fridge and there's fruit salad, too. Andrew said you were going to stop on the way and eat, but Bobby here is always hungry."

"Thank you," Rose said. "It smells wonderful."

The woman looked back at both of them and frowned. "I was told there'd be no shenanigans going on around here."

"Me, too." Rose knew exactly what the woman meant. "And there certainly won't be," She answered.

"Now, Mrs Martin," Bobby said, holding open the kitchen door for her to leave. "Francisca Handel's my fiancée, and miss, uh, Marti is her chaperone.

Don't you worry about anything."

"I will worry until you and Marty settled down and quit getting into jackpots," she muttered, going out the door. "There's a chocolate cake for dessert, but make sure you save some for the others."

"I will," Bobby promised, and when she was gone he turned to grin at his guests. "Don't pay any attention to Mrs Martin. she's known me all my life."

"Who's Marty ?" Francisca asked.

"One of my best friends. He works here." Bobby went over the refrigerator and opened the door.

"What would you like to drink, ladies? Beer? Iced tea? Something stronger?"

"Beer," Francisca declared, though Rose had never seen her drink other than white wine.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Rose said, hoping that Andrew would leave the house and return to wherever he came from. "Would you mind if I unpacked?"

Bobby grinned, probably at the thought of having Francisca all to himself for a few minutes while the chaperone disappeared.

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