In Over His Head

Chapter 8

By four o'clock that afternoon Josh had realized several things. First, he was very glad he'd read extensively on the subject of sailing before coming to Florida, because it enabled him to move swiftly through Lexie's thorough textbook-type preliminaries on topics such as types of boats and sails, how sailboats work, and a slew of nautical terms. His knowledge also came with the extra bonus that it impressed his teacher. Especially his knot-tying skills. "I'm pretty handy with a rope," he said with a smile. "Comes with the cowboy territory."

Second, it was obvious, even more so than during their swimming lessons, that Lexie was an excellent teacher. Patient, encouraging, knowledgeable and thorough, she explained things in a clear, concise manner, always emphasizing safety. She took their lesson seriously, and took him seriously, as well. Yet in spite of her seriousness her sense of humor shone through, making the lesson fun as well as informative. They spent three hours sitting at her kitchen table doing classroom legwork before driving back to the Whispering Palms to actually sail one of the resort's rental boats.

And third, as the afternoon flew by, Josh realized that it was possible to fall even deeper in love with a woman he was already completely in love with.

While he sat at that kitchen table, his mind engaged in learning about mainsails, masts, transoms, beams, keels, tacks, booms and the rest of it, his heart was getting blown to further bits in the minefield.

She appealed to him on every level: physical, emotional, intellectual and everywhere in between. He didn't just love her-he genuinely liked her. And he knew it wouldn't be long before he'd have to tell her how he felt.

Damn it, he hadn't wanted or planned for this complication, and wasn't particularly pleased about the kink meeting her had thrown into all his finely laid-out plans, but there was no way he could consider ignoring how he felt. Yup, unfortunately this situation was not like passing a dead skunk on the road-he couldn't just roll up the windows and keep on going. He wanted, needed, to know if she felt any of these same overwhelming emotions.

And as soon as this sailing lesson was over, he was going to find out.

Their lesson ended at 6:00 p.m. and just as his teacher had predicted, Josh had enjoyed every minute of it. The cool spray of water, the concentration and challenge required to handle the sixteen-foot craft, Lexie's patient instructions as he got the feel of the boat, and mostly Lexie's company.

After returning the boat to the rental dock, they walked back toward the main area of the resort along a foliage-lined cement path that meandered along the perimeter of the property.

Taking her hand, he squeezed her fingers. She squeezed back, looking up at him with a dazzling smile that shot a tingle straight through him. "You did great," she said. "You caught on faster than any student I've ever had. You're a natural."

Lifting her hand, he placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, noting with pleasure that her eyes darkened at the gesture. "A student's progress is a direct reflection of the teacher, and I picked a winner."

"Well, as much as I'd like to take all the credit, I can't. You were able to 'feel' the boat, the way it reacted to the wind and the water, with an ability few beginners possess. And you were calm. Relaxed. Focused. You wouldn't believe how many people are tense and panicky. Plus, you're good with the ropes-" she laughed. "There's a lot of ropes in sailing. And you have good sailing hands. Strong and steady."

He waggled his brows. "You tryin' to tell me I'm good with my hands, Miss Lexie?"

Color rushed into her cheeks, utterly charming him. "Are we still talking about sailing?"

"You tell me."

"All right. You are very good with your hands. On the boat, and off."

An image of his hands caressing her soft skin flashed in his mind, hiking his temperature up a notch, but since he had no desire to walk around the still populated pool area with an erection, he forced his mind to other matters. "Are you hungry?"

She waggled her brows at him this time. "Are you talking about food?"

"For starters." He patted his stomach with his free hand. "Lunch is loo-oong gone. May I take you to dinner?"

"That sounds great. Do you want to eat here?"

He shook his head. "Actually I already made reservations somewhere else."

She raised her brows. "You did? What if I'd said no?"

"I would have done my best to change your mind."

"Hmm. Maybe I should have said no," she teased. "Where did you make reservations?"

"The Blue Flamingo."

Her eyes widened. "That's my favorite restaurant!"

"I know."

She pursed her lips. "I don't recall mentioning that."

"You didn't. When I came back here for my things this morning, I spoke to Maurice at the concierge desk. Real nice fella. Wife just had a baby. Anyway, I told him I wanted to ask you to dinner and could he recommend a good place. When he mentioned the Blue Flamingo was your favorite, I asked him to make reservations for us. Think you can be ready by eight?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid you'll need to drive me home. I only keep a basic change of clothes here in the employee locker room-certainly nothing nice enough for the Blue Flamingo."

He stopped, then pulled her slowly into his arms. "Are you telling me that you don't have anything to wear? 'Cause to me, that sounds like good news."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Hey. You're not trying to renege on your invite are you?"

"Absolutely not." He gently rubbed himself against her. "In fact, the thought of you having nothing to wear inspires me to issue another invitation." He whispered a suggestion in her ear.

Leaning back in the circle of his arms, she regarded him with wide eyes. "Wow. Is that even anatomically possible?"

"I don't know. Wanna take a quick detour up to my room and find out?"

A slow smile lit her face. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Lexie stood in her shower, the warm spray pelting her skin. Josh would be back in less than an hour to pick her up for dinner. A smile played around her lips at his insistence on bringing her home, then returning to his hotel room to change, then driving back to pick her up "like a real date." Not that a ton of driving was involved-her house was only minutes from the resort, but his chivalry touched a feminine instinct in her she'd thought long dead: It certainly wasn't a gesture Tony ever would have thought to make. In fact, she couldn't recall Tony ever saying anything even remotely like, "Dress up, we're going out on the town." No, Tony's invitations were normally accompanied by instructions like, "Hold on tight" and "Don't worry, the parachute will open."

Turning off the water, she wrapped a towel around herself sarong-style. Anticipation filled her at dining at the Blue Flamingo. She only ate at the elegant five-star restaurant on very special occasions as the prices majorly strained the budget. The food, the service, the atmosphere, the small dance floor, all made for a fabulous dining experience.

Oh, sure. The food and the service-that's why you can't wait to go, her inner voice piped up as she towel-dried her hair. Doesn't have anything to do with the man taking you there.

Wiping the steam from the mirror, Lexie stared at her reflection. After a good, long, hard look, she shook her head. Who was she trying to fool? Damn it, she was practically glowing. All but twinkling, for crying out loud. And it had nothing to do with the prospect of the Blue Flamingo's lobster thermidor.

Leaning closer to the mirror she said, "Josh is taking you to the diner for a burger and fries."

Glow and twinkle remained in place.

"Dinner with Josh is going to consist of stale bread and warm water."

Glow and twinkle.

"Josh is catching the next flight back to Manhattan, Montana, and you'll never see him again."

Glow and twinkle snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane.

Oh, boy. This was not good.

The phone rang and she gratefully exited the bathroom with its all-too-knowing mirror. Grabbing the portable receiver from her nightstand she said, "Hello?"

"Lexie, it's Darla. Is this a bad time? Am I-" her voice dropped to a whisper "-interrupting anything?"

Lexie laughed. "No. I'd hardly pick up the phone if you were."

"Is the cowboy there?"

"No, but he's picking me up soon and I'm not ready yet. What's up?"

"That's what I'm calling to ask you. How's everything going? Still keeping things in perspective?"

Glow and twinkle. Glow and twinkle. "Uh, yeah."

"Uh-oh. I know that tone. Sounds to me like you need another pep talk."

Lexie heaved out a sigh. "I think I might." A big pep talk.

"Well, never fear, Darla is here. How about breakfast tomorrow?"

"Can't. I'm giving an early lesson. How about lunch? Noon at the Marine Patio?"

"Done. Now go and make yourself gorgeous for your evening with Mr. Cowboy. What are you guys doing-as if I need to ask?"

"He's taking me to the Blue Flamingo."

A soft whistle came through the receiver. "Very nice. Well, you kids have a great time, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"So the sky's the limit, huh?" Lexie teased.

"You got it, babe. Now, repeat after me. This is just a fling."

Taking a deep breath, Lexie said, "This is just a fling." The words tasted like sawdust on her tongue.

"Good girl. Go out, have a great time, and just repeat those words as necessary until I see you tomorrow."

They exchanged goodbyes and Lexie set down the receiver. Then, straightening her shoulders, she headed toward her closet, muttering for all she was worth, "This is just a fling."

Forty-five minutes later, Lexie opened her front door and every thought and mutter drained from her head.

Holy cow. He'd looked sublime in jeans and a T-shirt. Fabulous in a swimsuit. Incredible in his birthday suit. But here he stood wearing a dark blue, pinstriped business suit and a snowy-white shirt bisected by a red, paisley-print silk tie, and damn near stopped her heart. Somebody call the cops-I've been robbed. This guy has swiped my ability to breathe. And bring the paramedics while you're at it in case I go into cardiac arrest.

Her gaze wandered up and down his scrumptious length, noting his tasteful black tassel loafers and the single long-stemmed red rose he held, before returning to his face.

He smiled at her and extended the rose. "Hi."

"H-hi." Yikes. Was that croaky whisper her voice? Reaching out a none-too-steady hand, she accepted the flower. Breathing in its heady fragrance, she watched his eyes skim over her in that appreciative way that brought goose bumps to her skin.

"I didn't know cowboys wore suits," she said in that same croaky voice.

"Only when we're off the ranch. Even bull riders like to put on the dog every once in a while."

"Well, you put it on very well."

"Glad you approve. I actually brought the fancy duds to meet with one of my corporate sponsors next week, but I'd much rather wear it for you." He finished his perusal of her and their eyes met. "You look beautiful, Lexie."

Josh stood on her porch and tried not to stare with his mouth hanging open, but it was damn near impossible. The way her black dress left her golden shoulders bare, how the full skirt hugged her hips and danced just above her knees, and those sexy, strappy heels that made her legs appear endless… whew.

That feminine, flowery scent she wore that drove him nuts wafted off her smooth skin, beckoning him to bury his face in the delicate hollow of her collarbone. How the hell was he going to keep his hands off her all during dinner? Maybe they could just order their meal to go. Unfortunately, he doubted the Blue Flamingo had a drive-thru window.

"Come on in," she said, rousing him from his stupor.

He entered the foyer, pulling a deep, calming breath into his lungs. He'd be fine in just a second. Just needed some air.

"Can I get you something before we leave? A drink maybe?" She closed the door, then smiled-a shy sort of smile that certainly shouldn't have speeded up his pulse.

"How about a kiss?"

"That can be arranged," she murmured, stepping closer and lifting her face.

He brushed his mouth over hers, forcing himself to keep the contact light, knowing if he didn't they'd never get out of the foyer with their clothes intact.

When he lifted his head she said softly, her warm breath touching his face, "Thank you for the rose. It's lovely."

"You're lovely." He touched one fingertip to her soft cheek. "Looks like you got a little sun today."

"Actually, I think that's more likely a postcoital glow-and completely your fault."

He hardened instantly as images of their earlier heated lovemaking flashed through his mind… images he needed to banish, at least temporarily, if they had a prayer of getting to the restaurant.

Taking her resolutely by the shoulders-and absolutely not noticing how satiny her skin felt beneath his hands-he urged her toward the kitchen. "I'll wait here while you put your rose in water," he said, inwardly cringing at the note of desperation in his voice. "Then we can go."

"Okay. Be right back," she said, then turned toward the kitchen.

The relieved breath he was about to suck into his lungs stalled in his throat as he watched her walk away. Her dress left her entire back bare, from her shoulders to her waist. Nothing but smooth skin, and lots of it, begging for a man to caress.

Damn. She looked like walking, breathing sin in that dress.

He couldn't wait to get it off her.

He just prayed his heart could stand the wait.

"Would you like to dance, Lexie?"

The waiter had just cleared their prawn and stone-crab appetizer. Lexie looked across the white-linen-covered table at Josh, his dark hair gleaming under the muted lights, his eyes resting on hers. Unable to find her voice, she jerked her head in a nod. Rising, he held out her chair, then clasped her hand in his warm palm and led her to the dance floor.

She gave herself a mental slap on the forehead. What on earth was wrong with her? She was positively tongue-tied. Here she was, dressed to the nines, at her favorite restaurant, indulging in her favorite foods, sipping delicious wine, surrounded by romantic music and atmosphere, accompanied by an incredibly attractive, attentive man who was-

Her date.

Ah. There it was. The problem in a nutshell. No matter how she might try, there was only one name for this evening, and that was date. And while her heart was totally in the groove and lovin' the date, her mind was screaming, Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing dating this guy? He's another Tony-a daredevil-only instead of wearing parachutes and hiking gear, Josh wears chaps and spurs. Remember those rodeo pictures of him? Yikes! And next on his agenda is sailing the freakin' Mediterranean! And actually he's worse than Tony because in addition to being a daredevil, this guy lives a few thousand miles away. And he's going back there in a couple of weeks. Do you want him to take your stupid heart with him when he leaves?

No, she did not. No way.

They joined a half dozen other couples on the parquet dance floor. The quartet of musicians played something romantic and slow, and Josh pulled her into his arms. While one of her hands encircled his neck, he captured the other and pressed their entwined fingers against his chest. He settled his other hand low on her bare back.

Warmth kindled at the contact, flaring into sizzling heat when his fingers slowly feathered up and down her spine. Between his caressing hand, the brush of his hard body against hers as they swayed to the music, and his clean-shaven cheek resting against her hair, she was in danger of melting into a quivering blob right on the Blue Flamingo's elegant wood floor.

"You're very quiet," he said, the soft words warm against her ear. "You okay?"

She debated lying, but couldn't bring herself to utter the falsehood. But how much of her inner turmoil and confusing feelings did she really want to admit? Raising her head from its very cozy nest on his shoulder, she looked at him and said, "To tell you the truth, I'm sort of nervous."

He instantly pulled her closer to him. "That better?"

"Actually, it's worse."

Unmistakable desire flared in his dark eyes. "I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. You, in that dress…" He took a deep breath. "Have mercy. My willpower has never been so sorely tested. 'Cause as much as I love that dress on you, I can't wait to get it off you."

"That's funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you and that suit."

"You know what they say about great minds." He studied her for several seconds. "But I get the feelin' something else is bothering you."

"What makes you think that?"

"You've got this little pucker between your eyebrows. And your lips are pursed just a tiny bit."

Damn! She instantly relaxed her facial muscles and he smiled.

"Too late, I already saw it."

"You don't know me well enough to be able to read my expressions." So accurately.

"I'm pretty good at reading people. And I've spent a lot of time the past few days looking at you." He raised his brows. "Am I wrong?"

"No," she admitted in a disgruntled tone. "Sheesh. You can ride horses, cook, clean up and now decipher my expressions. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Yeah. Read your mind." He pressed his hand to the small of her back, bringing her closer against him. A sheet of paper couldn't have squeezed between them. "Tell me what's wrong."

"All right. The problem is that this is a… date," she whispered in an accusatory hiss.

He blinked. "And that's a problem because…?"

"We already agreed that we're not dating."

Understanding, along with something else she couldn't define, dawned in his eyes. "I see. We're having a fling."

"That's right."

"And people having a fling aren't allowed to eat?"

"Well, yes, they can eat-"

"Are they allowed to dance?"

"I suppose, but-"

"Touch each other?" He ran his hand up and down the length of her bare back.

She shot him an exasperated look. "You sound more like a lawyer than a cowboy."

"Took a couple of business law classes on my way to being an engineer. But I admit defeat here. Maybe you should explain to me the difference between a fling and dating, 'cause I don't get it."

"You date someone to get to know them. To see if you're compatible. If you inspire emotions in each other. To see if you want to form some sort of relationship. A fling is no-strings sex. Strictly physical, no messy emotions, no thoughts of the future. Just three rules: fun, wild and temporary." She nodded, relieved she'd gotten that out in the open. "Understand?"

"Yup. Now I've got it."

"Good."

"We're dating," he said at the exact instant she said, "We're having a fling."

She stared at him, speechless. He wasn't supposed to say that. While she searched for her voice, he gently squeezed her hand resting on his chest.

"Lexie. I want to get to know you. To see if we're compatible. Explore these emotions you inspire. See if we want to form some sort of relationship."

She swallowed to moisten her dry throat. "But what about no-strings sex?"

"The sex with us is great. Better than great." He hesitated, then added, "But I'm not sure that the 'no strings' part applies."

She stared at his lips, certain those words couldn't have come out his mouth. But they must have, because they echoed through her mind as if he'd whispered them directly into her brain.

He stared at her through very serious eyes. "There's something between us. Some sort of magic. More than just sex."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've had just sex. I've had flings. And believe me, this is more. And I've felt it from the first moment I saw you. I guess the question is, do you feel it, too?"

What she felt was a strong need to sit down. Darn it, this conversation was not going at all the way it was supposed to! She'd thought for sure he'd jump all over her "strictly physical, no messy emotions, no thoughts of the future" fling definition, and thereby squash this seed that had foolishly, impossibly, planted itself in her heart.

God help her, she did feel it, too. But she didn't want to.

"Josh… nothing can happen between us."

"Lexie… something already has."

Panic fluttered in her stomach. "I'm only looking for a fling-something I would think I'd have in common with a guy who's only planning to be here for a few weeks."

He studied her for several seconds then said, "Flings aren't your usual style."

"What makes you say that?"

His dimple flashed at her suspicious tone. "I meant it as a compliment. And I can tell. The fact that you were engaged. That you hadn't had sex in a year. Your house is a home. It's cozy and warm. Like you." His serious gaze rested on her. "Am I wrong?" When she didn't answer, he asked, "How many flings have you had?"

"Including us?"

"Yes."

"One."

Tenderness filled his eyes. "Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but you're down to zero, because this is not a fling."

"But it can't be anything else. No matter how attracted I might be to you, there are things about you that just make you all wrong for me to… date."

"Such as?"

"How about the fact that you live thousands of miles away from here? What about your ranch?"

"Last I heard the airlines were still operating."

"Is that what you want? A long-distance relationship?"

"No, but-"

"Well, neither do I. And that's all we could have because I'm not moving. Never again." She rushed on before he could speak. "And what about your desire to see the world and travel? My wanderlust chromosome is dead, with a capital D. And then there's your occupation."

"You have something against cowboys?"

"I meant the rodeo."

A frown pulled down his brows. "That's my former occupation. I retired, remember?"

"Yes. But you can't retire the part of your being which craved that danger, that adrenaline rush. That made you climb on the back of a two-thousand-pound, pissed-off bull that wanted to toss you into next week-after it stomped on your head. It's the same part of you that is determined to sail around the Mediterranean. Sailing is dangerous, even for experienced sailors, which you are not. And the Mediterranean is not exactly a bathtub."

He stopped dancing. "I take safety very seriously."

"I'm sure you do. But you can't control the actions of a Brahman bull and you can't control the sea."

He held her by her upper arms, his eyes steady on hers. "I'll admit I'm not the sort of man to sit around on my hands, but is that the sort of man you want?"

"The point is, I've already had the sort of man who didn't know fear. I can't go through that again."

"I know fear. At the risk of sounding arrogant, it's what made me so good at what I did. It kept me sharp and focused. I just never allowed it to overwhelm me or stop me." He cupped her face between his palms. "And if you think I don't feel fear right now, telling you I want to explore these feelings we have, you are dead wrong. I'll come right out and admit it. I'm afraid of the way you make me feel. Afraid that you won't feel the same way about me. And scared spitless that you'll let your fear overwhelm and stop you-stop us-from finding out where this could lead." His dark eyes searched her face. "Are you going to do that, Lexie? Or are you going to look that fear in the eye and kick its ass? Do you really want to ask yourself down the road what might have been?" Leaning down, he gently kissed her. "I know I don't," he whispered against her lips.

Good Lord, he could probably sell matches to Lucifer himself. She should run, not walk, away from him. From his persuasive words and compelling eyes and coaxing kisses. But she couldn't move.

Resuming their gentle swaying to the seductive music, he said, "C'mon, Miss Lexie. Let's date and see what happens." A smile curved his lips. "Sure, we like each other now, but who knows-maybe after a few dates we'll realize we really don't care for each other at all."

Fat chance. Maybe he'd decide that, but she had a sinking feeling that she'd most likely end up with her heart battered and bruised. Still, his question echoed through her mind. Do you really want to ask yourself down the road what might have been? No, she didn't. But fear of what could lie down the road settled like a brick in her stomach. And fear won. Dam it, she hated when that happened.

Still, did it really matter if they hung the title "fling" or "dating" on themselves? No. He'd suggested "a few dates." That sounded temporary. Temporary fling, temporary dating-as long as she remembered that the operative word was "temporary" there shouldn't be a problem. Probably.

Clearing her throat she said, "Well, since you put it that way… I'm going to kick fear in its ass. Wanna date me, cowboy?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."