In Over His Head

Chapter 3

"Oh, he definitely sounds like your fling guy," Darla said half an hour later over drinks at Mermaid's, a local bar. "You need to have sex with him. As soon as possible."

Lexie nearly spewed out a mouthful of margarita. Good grief, Darla certainly didn't mince words. Lexie managed to swallow, but the frozen drink went down the proverbial wrong pipe, starting up a coughing fit. While she gasped and sputtered, Darla calmly waggled two fingers at their waiter, indicating they wanted another round.

"Do I need to Heimlich you?" Darla asked, dragging a tortilla chip through the queso dip then popping the morsel into her mouth.

Lexie shook her head, coughed a few more times, then took a deep breath. Recovered, she glared across the table. "No, the Heimlich isn't necessary. But-"

Darla cut off her words by raising her perfectly manicured hand in a stop motion. "Let me guess," Darla said. "You agreed you need a fling. You want to have a fling. But now that there's actually a potential fling-worthy guy on your radar screen, you're nervous."

Lexie could only stare. "What are you, psychic?"

"No. Just been there, done that enough times to recognize the symptoms. You're wondering if your reaction to him was just some sort of hormonal aberration, and you're trying to mentally compile a list of reasons why you shouldn't have anything to do with him."

"Impressive. Do you tell fortunes, also?"

Darla dipped another chip and waggled her elegant brows. "Yup. I see lots of sex in your immediate future."

The mere thought crept warmth up Lexie's neck. "But what about those dozen reasons I came up with why I shouldn't have anything to do with him?"

"You came up with a dozen reasons why you shouldn't have sex with a man who makes you sweat in a pool? You're kidding. I can't think of one. You experienced a perfectly normal, healthy, physical reaction to an attractive man, and it's about damn time. So what's the problem?"

"For starters, I don't know anything about him. Like his marital status and if he's out on parole for being an ax murderer."

Darla waved a dismissive hand. "That can be remedied by asking a few questions. What else?"

Lexie hesitated. "It's sort of difficult to explain. I guess I'm surprised by my strong reaction to him. I'm surrounded by attractive men all the time, but I don't want to remove their clothes with my teeth."

"That's because you're honorable, and until about eleven months ago you were engaged to Tony. This is a simple matter of logic. You haven't had a man in almost a year. Good Lord, Lexie, that's just not natural. Your body's had enough of celibacy." She pointed a tortilla chip at Lexie. "If you were thristy, what would you do?"

"Have a drink."

"And if you're hungry?"

"Eat."

Darla leaned back in the vinyl-upholstered booth with a triumphant smile. "Exactly. Your body knows what it wants. What it needs. And what it needs is a good sweaty bout of stress-relieving sex. And it wants that sweaty bout of sex with that gorgeous cowboy. From what you've told me about him, he sounds fun and wild, and he's certainly temporary-all the rules for a fling."

"I know. Yet as incredibly tempting as a bout of sweaty sex sounds, I'm hesitant. How can I have sex with a stranger? For all I know, he's some sort of wacko."

"And for all you know, he's a sweetheart. You're not looking to marry him. Think of him as your 'transitional' man. You've been out of the social scene for a long while. You need someone temporary to ease you back in. Get you back in the saddle, so to speak. And a cowboy who ignites you like a blowtorch is just the man for the job." Darla leaned forward again, resting her elbows on the scarred wooden tabletop. "Look. You've mourned over your breakup with Tony long enough-"

"I have not been mourning. I've been busy. There's a difference." Lexie twirled her straw in the remnants of her drink. "You know I don't regret ending things with Tony. He was a good guy-at least until I lost him to the glamorous world of extreme sports-but I just couldn't live like that anymore. Never knowing if he was going to come home in one piece, spending half my time at the hospital." She dragged her hands down her face. "You know you're at the hospital too much when you're on a first-name basis with all the emergency room nurses. Give me a nice safe accountant. An insurance guy. Banker. Chef. Gardener. But no more dare-devils. You're supposed to grow old with someone-not because of them. I can't go through that again."

"You'd be insane to even consider it," Darla agreed as their waiter deposited two more margaritas in front of them, then left them alone once more. "Any idea what Tony's up to?"

"Nope. I assume he's on his Everest expedition. After that he planned to run the Amazon on a raft." She shot Darla a rueful smile. "I wouldn't be surprised if after the Amazon he decided to kayak over Niagara Falls."

A visible shudder shivered through Darla. "He was insane, Lexie. He had absolutely no fear. Skydiving, bungee jumping, rock climbing… it just wasn't right. And let's face it, after he won that skydiving competition, after almost dying in the attempt, he turned into a-"

"Jerk. I know." Lexie blew out a sigh. "You would think that a close brush with death would have made him less inclined to risk himself, but instead it pushed him the other way. Made him take more risks, seek out higher levels of danger. Like he had something to prove."

"Mmm-hmm. And he sure didn't seem to mind all the adoration from those assorted blondes, brunettes, and redheads who came along with that extreme sport lifestyle. Guess he felt he had something to prove in that area, as well."

"His womanizing definitely was the final nail in the coffin," Lexie agreed.

"I have to say, you took the whole thing pretty calmly, Lex. I would have damaged the guy."

"I wasn't calm at all. I was hurt and angry, but honestly more sad than anything. Sad for him that nearly losing his life set him on such a self-destructive course. Sad for both of us that his success so drastically changed the sweet guy I fell in love with into someone I couldn't live with."

A determined look entered Darla's eyes. "Well, it's over between you, and now, finally, you've met a man who rings your bell. If you're worried about not knowing him, then get to know him a bit first. How long is he staying at the resort?" She shot Lexie a knowing look. "You did check, didn't you?"

A guilty flush heated her skin. "Yeah, I checked. He's registered for the next three weeks."

Darla raised her brows. "Seems to me you could find out a whole bunch about a man in a lot less time than that. In fact, I'd say a clever girl could find out everything she needed to know over a few drinks."

"He hasn't asked me to go for drinks."

"Have you lost your voice? Ask him. Invite him to join you for a beer after your lesson tomorrow night." She waved her hand around, encompassing their noisy surroundings. "Bring him here to Mermaid's. It's cozy and fun. Or how about the bar at the resort? Ply him with liquor, ask him probing, personal questions until you know him better, then have your wicked way with him." She waggled her brows. "Find out if that snake left a scar."

Lexie sighed. "I cannot believe I'd ever want to see another scar. Tony had more of the damn things than Florida has sand fleas. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. You're in lust. It's normal. Accept it, and act on it. You need to do this. You need to stop working nonstop and enjoy yourself. You're young, attractive, unattached, primed for action and suffering from a crisis-level lack of sex. The timing is perfect. I mean, when were you planning to have a fling? When you're a grandma? Ask him out."

"What if he isn't interested?"

"Then he's an idiot and you're better off without him. Did he seem uninterested during your lesson?"

Lexie recalled how he'd looked at her, with all that focused attention, then how he'd trailed his finger down her arm. "No, but-"

"Lex, the worst that will happen is that you'll go for drinks and he'll turn out to be a dunce, in which case you won't find him attractive anymore. Best case is that he'll prove charming and nice and irresistible, and you'll have yourself a fun fling for a few weeks." Darla reached out and squeezed Lexie's hands. "It's a win-win situation."

Lexie chewed on her bottom lip and pondered Darla's advice. Josh Maynard had struck a chord in her that hadn't been strummed in a long time. Her self-confidence had definitely taken a wallop from her breakup with Tony, whose growing preference for daredevil escapades over her-not to mention his sudden fondness for being surrounded by hordes of admiring women-had eventually left her feeling unneeded, unwanted and unattractive. Josh was the first guy who'd aroused her flattened libido since. And the beauty of a vacation fling was that in three weeks, Josh would be gone. No running into him around town, no awkward meeting up at local parties. Fun, wild and temporary.

So what harm could there be in inviting him for a drink? It was as good a way as any to find out if he was as attractive as he seemed. Maybe after some conversation she'd decide he wasn't all that great. Or maybe she'd decide he was fling-worthy. One thing was for certain: if she didn't try, she'd never know. And she definitely wanted to know.

"Okay," Lexie said. "I'll ask him out for a drink."

"Good girl," Darla said, beaming her approval. "So what's this hunk's name?"

"Josh Maynard. Even sounds cowboyish."

Darla frowned. "And vaguely familiar." She pursed her lips, then shrugged. "But it can't be. I don't know a soul from Montana. In fact, I've never met a real, live cowboy."

"Me, either." A laugh escaped her. "But it seems like a tame enough occupation. I mean, what do they do around a ranch? Ride horses and check fences? At least he's not a wild daredevil like Tony."

Darla laughed with her. "Really. The worst thing that could happen to Mr. Cowboy is getting saddle sore."

"Hmm. Could be a good excuse to offer him a massage."

A giggle erupted from Dana. "Yee-ha. Now you're talkin', pardner."

When Josh arrived at the pool the following evening, the first thing he saw was her… the water nymph who had drifted through his nighttime dreams then occupied his thoughts all day long. She cut through the aqua water with strong, clean strokes, then executed an underwater flip turn before starting the next lap. She completed six more pool lengths before she stopped, hoisting herself to the edge while water cascaded down her curvy form.

Another simple, one-piece, no-nonsense swimsuit hugged her body, and Josh smothered a rueful grimace at his swift physical reaction. No doubt about it, she attracted him like a fly to a bug zapper. His inner voice tried to remind him how those poor flies ended up, but he swatted the warning away.

She caught sight of him and stilled. For several heartbeats they simply looked at each other. His pulse seemed to stall, then thump like a bass drum. She licked her lips, a gesture that forced him to swallow a groan, then offered him a smile. "Hi, Josh. How are you?"

Hot and bothered and it's all your fault. Damn, he didn't know if he wanted her to put some clothes on or to take that bathing suit off. Well, he knew which one he wanted… but that didn't mean that it was the smartest. "I'm fine, Lexie. How about you?"

"I'm terrific."

You sure are. He didn't know how many laps she'd swum before he'd arrived, but she wasn't even winded. Water glistened on her well-toned arms and legs, and his already drumming pulse quickened. There was nothing more attractive to him than a physically fit, athletic woman, and this particular woman was… whew. Just right.

"I saw you practicing with the kickboard this morning," she said. "I was impressed-not only by your improvement, but by your dedication. It was barely 7:00 a.m. "

"I'm determined to master swimming as quickly as possible. And once I set my mind to something… well, as we cowboys say, if you're gonna go, go like hell."

"In that case, ready to get started?"

"Yes, ma'am. I place myself in your hands."

He fancied that something flashed in her eyes, but it disappeared before he could decide. Jerking her head in a nod, she turned then walked down the steps into the water. He followed, relieved when the cool water took the edge off his budding ardor.

"Except for your early morning practicing, I didn't see you around today," she remarked once they stood waist-deep. A teasing glint entered her eyes. "We missed you at Make A Basket From Pond Fronds."

He laughed. "I arranged for a rental car, then spent the day visiting marinas to check out sailboats."

"Did you see anything you liked?"

Sure did. And she's smilin' at me right now. "Lots of nice boats, but before I buy one, I want to know how to sail. And before I can tackle that, I need to learn to swim."

"Have you made reservations for the beginner sailing course offered at the resort?"

"Not yet. Are you the teacher?"

"Yes." She shot him a grin. "Don't worry. I'm fully certified."

"Why do you only offer beginner lessons?"

"It's really all that's necessary here at the resort. If a guest wants more in-depth instructions, we make arrangements for them to attend a sailing school in the area. Or, if a guest prefers, they can hire a staff member for private instructions during off-hours."

"Like I hired you for swimming lessons."

"Exactly."

"Are you available for private sailing lessons?"

"Yes, but only early in the morning, weather permitting, before my normal shift starts. For obvious safety reasons, I don't teach sailing at night." She cocked her head to one side. "Let me know if you're interested."

Oh, I'm interested all right. More interested than a hungry hound dog in a pork chop. And he couldn't deny it irked him. Falling in lust had not been on his list of things to do while in Florida. Still, as that was the hand he'd been dealt, and it had taken him all of one restless night and day to realize he couldn't talk himself out of this attraction, he'd simply have to put up his ante, so to speak, and play-keeping his cards close to the vest, of course.

"Before we begin anything new," she said, "let's spend a few minutes warming up by reviewing what we did last evening." He agreed, then spent the next quarter hour kicking along with the board and breathing.

"Great job, Josh," she said. "You're ready to graduate to floating."

Josh watched her demonstrate lying on her back, as if she were stretched out in a comfortable bed, her arms moving gently back and forth. She closed her eyes and looked for all the world as if she were taking a nap. Sort of like a wet, floating Sleeping Beauty. Her short, dark hair surrounded her head like an undulating halo, and he barely resisted the urge to sift his fingers through the tempting strands. His gaze rested on her full lips and his imagination immediately ran amok, casting him in the role of Prince Charming. Would those gorgeous lips taste as delicious as they looked?

"The keys are relaxation and balance," she said in a soft, soothing voice that thankfully yanked him back to reality. She floated with seemingly effortless grace. "You'll be right next to the edge, so if you feel yourself tipping, just reach out your hand. Like this." She reached out, but instead of touching the edge of the pool, her fingers slid across his belly.

He hissed in a breath and her eyes popped open, clearly realizing she'd made contact with him, not the concrete edge. With a splash, she stood, and emitted a shaky-sounding laugh. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." Nope, none at all. Except that that single inadvertent brush of her hand made him feel as if a firecracker sizzled in his swim trunks. He dragged his hands through his wet hair. Maybe he should have taken these swim lessons in Antarctica. With a male instructor.

"Once you get the hang of this in the pool," she said, "it will be even easier in the ocean where the saltwater has more buoyancy. Unless, of course, the water is rough, but the forecast is calling for calm seas for the next few days. Lots of sunshine and little wind. Not great for sailing, but perfect for swimming. Now, just lie on your back and let the water support you. I'll help you get started."

Josh did as she bid, and was doing a darn good job of it. Or at least he was until she "helped him get started." He'd gotten himself almost supine when she slid her hands under him, one supporting his shoulders, the other the small of his back.

"Good. Now just relax, Josh," she said in a soft, smoky voice.

Relax? With her hands on him, feeling like liquid silk against his skin? With his face not six inches from her full breasts? With her looking at him with those wide, incredible eyes? Not much chance of that.

To his embarrassment, he started floundering like a fish on a hook, his arms and legs flailing. Certainly no one who saw him now would ever believe that he possessed an innate, nearly flawless sense of balance that had enabled him to win four consecutive world rodeo championships.

"Take it easy," she said. "Close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths. Hold on to the side with one hand and let yourself go limp. I've got you."

Limp. Yeah, right. Definitely not much chance of that. He snapped his eyes shut, grabbed the concrete edge of the pool, and forced himself to relax, one tense muscle at a time-a feat much easier to accomplish now that he wasn't looking at her, and easier still once he pretended she was an old man. With one tooth. And a grizzled beard.

But then her velvety-soft voice flowed over him once more. "Much better, Josh."

His eyes popped open and he found himself staring up into her lovely face, which hovered so tantalizingly close… so close he had only to reach up to tangle his fingers in her wet hair and pull her mouth down to his…

The flailing and splashing started all over again. If she'd let go of him, he'd have sunk like a millstone, arms and legs waving like a flag in a gale storm. Of course, if she hadn't been holding him, touching him in the first place, he wouldn't have been flopping around in such an undignified way. Damn it, it was downright humiliating that he couldn't master such a simple task. Not to mention aggravating. It left him feeling vulnerable in a way he couldn't recall ever before experiencing. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut once again, pulled together all his concentration, and forced himself to relax.

"Good," she said. "Now, I'm going to move, to stand behind you, by your head, and support your shoulders. Don't worry about sinking below the surface. I promise I won't let you. What I want you to do is to move your arms and legs slowly in the water, like you're making a snow angel. I bet you made a lot of those in Montana."

He kept his eyes firmly closed. "Sure did."

"Then you'll be an expert floater in no time. Just pretend you're lying in a pile of snow. Remember, relax, and balance. You don't have to let go of the side until you feel ready. There's no rush. I'm going to move now, so start making that angel."

Her arm slipped from beneath the small of his back. Focusing on the task for all he was worth, he followed her instructions, conjuring up a mental image of himself as a child, tossing his body into a snowdrift with youthful abandon to create white, frosty angels. That's it, old boy. Think snow. Ice. Relax and balance. As long as he kept his mind on the task at hand instead of on her, he'd be fine.

He moved his limbs slowly back and forth in the water, and the more he felt the tension ease from his shoulders, the more buoyant he became. Still, he'd best not relinquish his hold on the side yet.

"Tell me about your home, Josh," he heard her say, though she sounded muffled as his ears were under water. "What's it like in Manhattan, Montana?"

He grasped the opportunity to keep his thoughts away from her like a drowning man seizes a life ring, although he wryly admitted to himself that that was not a good analogy under the present circumstances.

" Manhattan is beautiful. Peaceful." One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "They don't call Montana 'Big Sky Country' for nothing. The sky is so blue it can make your eyes hurt to look at it. The air is crisp and clean, and the mountains look close enough to reach out and touch. Manhattan 's rural, lots of wide-open spaces, but the town itself has everything anyone could need-movie theater, restaurants, lots of businesses and shops and such."

"Do you live on a ranch?"

"I do. On a small spread my dad and I bought together last year. Before that I lived and worked at the Dry Creek Ranch where Dad was foreman."

"Does he still work there?"

The familiar grief rolled through him, tightening his throat. "No. He died. Six months ago. On the job. Heart attack."

He felt her fingers flex on his shoulders blades. "I'm so sorry."

A long breath eased from his lips. "Me, too. My dad was a great guy. Patient, kind, always had a friendly word for everyone, no matter how ornery they might be. And I've never met anyone who could handle animals the way he could. He had a true gift."

His dad's weather-beaten features, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, rose in his mind's eye. He could almost hear Dad's husky-timbered voice say, Let go of the edge now, son. A man can't succeed if he doesn't try, and if he's gonna try, he's gotta try his best.

Slowly, one finger at a time, Josh let go of the edge. He felt himself dip lower in the water, but true to her promise, Lexie didn't let him sink below the surface. Balance and relax. He gently swished both arms through the water, delight and surprise filling him when he actually remained afloat.

"What about the rest of your family?" came her next muffled question.

"Don't have much, except my uncle and two cousins in Texas. We only see each other maybe once a year, if that. No brothers or sisters, and my mom passed away when I was twelve. After she died, Dad and I moved out to Dry Creek Ranch."

"Your dad never remarried?"

"No. Over the years there were a few ladies whose company he enjoyed, and Lord knows, plenty of women batted their eyes in his direction, but he died loving my mother. They were high school sweethearts. They'd been married fifteen years when she died, but they'd still acted like kids on a date. Huggin' and kissin' and holding hands."

He thought he heard her blow out one of those feminine, dreamy sighs. "That's lovely. Romantic. And sad. And… lovely."

"Yeah. They were great together. And she sure was a great mom. I remember coming home from school, doing my homework at the kitchen table. Mom would chat with me while she rolled out dough for another loaf of bread she would either burn or undercook." A chuckle worked its way up his throat. "Man, oh, man, she made the worst bread in the world, but she was determined. Can't tell you how many loaves Dad and I slathered butter on and bravely ate because she'd tried so hard. She had a beautiful smile. It lit up her whole face. I remember she smelled like chocolate-chip cookies. She baked them for me every Monday. She burned those a lot, too, but I ate them anyway. They're still my favorite…"

His voice trailed off as a barrage of memories assaulted him… of himself, after his mother's death, angry at the world and the insidious cancer that had taken her so cruelly and quickly, leaving a yawning hole in his heart where her love and laughter and smiles had always dwelt.

And of Dad, so heartbroken that Josh feared he'd lose him, too. The man didn't eat, didn't sleep. Six months after his mother died, he woke up in the middle of the night and found Dad sitting in Mom's favorite easy chair. Tears streamed silently down Bill Maynard's face as he clutched his dead wife's favorite flannel shirt to his chest. It was threadbare at the elbows and faded from hundreds of washings. It used to be Dad's shirt, but he'd loaned it to her on their first date to a high school football game, and the shirt, along with Dad, had been hers from that day forward.

He'd looked at his father, his tears falling onto that soft cotton, and all the grief he'd stored inside came pouring out like a burst dam. They'd spent the rest of the night talking. About her. About the million things they loved about her. As dawn broke, they agreed that living in their small house, where she permeated every corner of every room, was too painful. She'd made the cozy space into a place filled with love, but it wasn't home without her. Better to keep it a happy home and let another family enjoy it. They sold it to a young couple with a baby on the way, then moved out to the Dry Creek, their memories of Maggie Maynard stored in boxes and embedded in their hearts. It had taken them a while to find their footing again, but they'd eventually succeeded.

His thoughts returned to the present, and he became aware of the silence. Damn, how long had he been lost in the past? He'd certainly dropped the conversational ball. Lexie probably thought he was an idiot. Opening his eyes, he scanned around him.

He was alone. Floating in the middle of the pool, bobbing on the surface like a cork.

From the corner of his eye he saw Lexie, leaning against the edge, grinning and giving him a thumbs-up.

He only took in half a swallow of chlorinated water while ungracefully setting his feet back on the bottom. Standing, with the water lapping at his chest, he grinned back at her. "Looks like I'm gettin' the hang of it."

"Indeed you are," she agreed. "Before you know it, you'll be ready for the Olympic floating team. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks. But I was flappin' around like a broken windmill til you got me talking about home." No need to tell her that his flappin' was all her fault.

She smiled. "I've found that directing a student's thoughts away from the water, toward something comfortable and familiar, often does the trick."

"Hope I didn't gab your ears off."

She tugged on her lobes. "Nope. Still attached." Her gaze shifted briefly to her sports watch. "I'm afraid our time's up for tonight."

His attention riveted on the trails of water wandering down her arm, and all thoughts of swimming instantly evaporated from his mind. He walked slowly toward her, enjoying the way her eyes widened at his approach, especially enjoying the way her tongue peeked out to moisten her full lips. He stopped when only two feet separated them.

"I'm disappointed our lesson is over. As I recall, you're next going to teach me some… basic strokes."

Their gazes fused, and his heart performed a slow roll. The way she was looking at him… not with the blatant invitation he often read in women's eyes, but with a combination of unmistakable interest mixed with a hint of uncertainty…

Whew. If she could heat his blood with a mere innocent look, what the hell would happen if he touched her? Gave in to his gnawing craving and kissed her?

He didn't know, but by damn, he was determined to find out.

Right now.