"Excuse me, ma'am, can you point me to the In-processing Section of MILPO?” He wore a well-used gray Stetson and a plaid western shirt, mostly blue, the shade perfectly matching his eyes. He spoke in an easy drawl, completely in tune with his rugged, outdoorsy appearance.

Andy could not hide all of her surprise. Why would a cowboy need to find Military Personnel In-processing? She couldn't imagine him in uniform. Still, from habit, she answered with reasonable courtesy, pointing as she spoke. "See that fourth building on the right? In-processing's on the second floor, enlisted at the north end. I'm not sure if they close at lunch time or not."

“Thank you, Captain. Reckon I'll just have to go see, won't I?" The man smiled then, and she gulped. That's a smile and a half. The images of a couple of her favorite old-time western movie stars flashed across her mind.

“You're welcome. Have a nice day," Andy replied automatically, still curious. Why, she amended, did a gorgeous hunk of a cowboy need to find In-processing? Well, it wasn't her concern. She turned and started away.

"Ma'am?" The gentle drawling voice arrested her step. "Thought you might not know it, but you've got a nasty run in your hose, up the left leg there."

For a startled instant, Andy whirled back and stared at the man. His tone and expression were both carefully neutral, but something about him still said gotcha, loud and clear.

Just who did he think he was? He might be good-looking, but he really was crude! Andy huffed, faced around, and marched on toward her destination. Not until she was safely inside the PX did she stop and check her nylons.

Darn it, he was right. She did have a run, a big one. It went from her ankle clear up over her knee to vanish under her skirt. She hated to appear anything short of perfect when in uniform, and that sure ruined the effect. Why hadn't she noticed before she left the office? This was turning out to be a lousy day!

* * * *

But the worst was yet to come. Why should Colonel Standish be out of the office when his replacement arrived? He'd told Andy they were old buddies. Not only was he out but his civilian secretary Stacy too, leaving only Andy herself and Sergeant Rita Perez, her enlisted clerk.

Buried under the constant deluge of paper, Andy barely heard the outer door open and Rita's pleasant greeting, perfectly correct for someone dressed in civilian clothes.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

The reply caught her attention. It pulled her to her feet and across toward her open door before she actually registered anything familiar about the low drawling voice.

"I was hopin' to have a few minutes with Colonel Standish."

"I'm sorry, but he's not in this afternoon. I think they're picking up his household goods. His wife is in poor health, so he wanted to be there himself. This is his last week on duty here, you know. Could someone else help you?" Rita gushed, her tone almost sugary.

Why was she being so much more effusive than normal? If Rita was almost falling over herself in an effort to be helpful, Andy had to wonder why. The young sergeant was usually much too casual, about as likely to say yo, dude as yes, sir.

Then Andy reached the door, looked out, and understood. The visitor had his back to her, but she recognized the blue plaid shirt and the wide shoulders. What business did he have in 24th Signal?

"Maybe Captain Hollis, the Exec ..." he was saying.

"I'm right here, Sergeant Perez." As always when caught off guard, Andy fell back on military courtesy, the stiffer the better.

At the sound of her voice the visitor turned, a smooth facing turn betraying long familiarity with military drill. The motion was oddly at variance with his dusty, scuffed cowboy boots and the faded jeans which fit his narrow hips and long, lean legs like a well-made glove. He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked quizzically, surprise and only the merest hint of recognition in his faded blue eyes.

"Captain Hollis ..." he said, with barely perceptible hesitation, "I'm Colonel Cory Costain."

Andy shut her mouth sharply, the only way to keep from blurting a torrent of profanity. No! It couldn't be, it just couldn't. But it was. Same hat, same shirt, same ruggedly appealing face and lazy drawling voice.

She felt her face redden as a barnyard epithet kept repeating in her mind. Shutting her eyes against the unhappy scene, she fought the maelstrom of embarrassment and regret. And she'd been concerned about first impressions -- Enlisted In-processing, she'd said, assuming. Oh my God! No, no, no!

There was only one thing she could possibly do: drag out the very best of her rigid military courtesy and pretend the earlier incident had never happened. What would she say and do, how would she act if she had never laid eyes on Colonel Costain before? That's exactly what she'd say and do now.

Cory took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. For a long moment, neither spoke. They simply looked at each other. He felt sure Captain Hollis also mulled the consequences of an event which neither of them could erase, however much they both might wish it. So much for first impressions.