IN OVER HIS HEAD Read online

  "I promise you'll be perfectly safe," she said with a reassuring smile.

  He looked into those big eyes of hers and his stomach dropped a good two feet. Somehow he suspected that safe was the last thing he would be around this woman.

  Reaching out, she grabbed his hand, pulling him gently toward the pool. "C'mon. We'll start nice and slow in the shallow end. You'll be swimming in no time."

  Heat from where their palms touched radiated up his arm. Shallow end, my ass.

  He hadn't so much as dipped his toe in the water, but he had a distinct sinking feeling—which boded particularly bad for the entire swimming scenario—that he was already in way over his head.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

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  Lexie stood in the pool, the warm water lapping at her waist, and tried to look busy with her kickboards in an attempt not to watch Josh ready himself for their lesson. She failed miserably.

  The way her eyeballs had annoyingly grown a mind of their own reminded her of those iguanas she'd seen on a recent nature program—their eyes bulged out and worked independently of each other just as hers seemed to be doing now. One eye watched him set his towel on a lounge chair. The other eye ostensibly studied the two kickboards floating next to her.

  His hair was dark and thick, her one eye noted. Just the sort of hair that begged for female fingers to ruffle through it. And his legs … whoa, baby. Her earlier assessment was definitely correct: they looked good covered in jeans, they looked incredible not covered in jeans. Before she could take that thought and run with it, he grabbed the ends of his gray University of Montana T-shirt and slowly pulled it over his head.

  Her kickboard eye nearly swiveled out of its socket to join its mate for an extended ogle as his extremely fine torso and chest was revealed in heart-stopping increments. Yowza. Clearly Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren didn't know about this guy 'cause if they did, Josh Maynard's bod would be featured in every magazine and plastered on billboards and buses across the country. Tight abs, broad shoulders, muscular arms. His wide chest was dusted with dark hair that narrowed down into a dusky ribbon, bisecting his abdomen before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. She instantly imagined tugging on that waistband and playing peekaboo to see where that intriguing path led.

  Her gaze dropped several inches and her breath hitched. If that was as fine as the rest of him, and she suspected it was, then she'd just ogled one of the finest male specimens she'd ever ogled. And working at the resort, she'd ogled her fair share.

  Mr. Cowboy's physique definitely fell into the sigh-inducing category she called "came by it honestly"—from hard work and physical labor—as opposed to the "pretty-boy-perfect" body gained by lifting weights while admiring oneself in the mirror at the local health club.

  He neatly folded his shirt, then bent to untie his sneakers. With his attention focused on his shoelaces, she allowed herself a quick peek at his butt. No surprise that his ass was as fine as the rest of him.

  Last week's conversation with Darla tickled her memory, and she frowned. Based solely on his looks, Josh Maynard was definitely fling-worthy. But just because the guy's physique hardened her nipples didn't mean he was a good choice. There were a few other things to consider—such as did he harbor homicidal-maniac tendencies?

  After setting his Nikes down next to the lounge chair where his shirt and towel rested, he approached the pool. His gaze skimmed intently over the entire surface, as if looking for something. After a moment, apparently satisfied with what he'd seen—or hadn't seen—he appeared to brace himself, then walked down the steps to join her.

  "Okay," he said, stopping when several feet separated them. I'm ready." A crooked grin pulled up one corner of his mouth. "Bring it on."

  The moon and the muted overhead lights cast a soft glow over him, accentuating his wide shoulders. Height-wise, he was just right—not too short, not too tall. Her eyes were level with his mouth. His firm, strong, very attractive mouth.

  She huffed out a breath. Good Lord, get a grip on yourself, Lexie. So he's good-looking. So he's built like a god. You don't know anything about him. He probably has five ex-wives. Or five girlfriends. Or is married. Or gay. Or out on parole. And even if he isn't, what difference does it make? He's a transient vacationer. He'll be gone in a week, two weeks tops.

  The third rule of flings suddenly flashed through her mind: temporary.

  A transient vacationer certainly met that criteria.

  She flexed her fingers, pushing the thought aside—for now. Right now she needed to stop behaving like a hormonal teenager, to act in a professional manner and to get on with the lesson. For the next hour he was a paying customer. She needed the money. Period. After that … well, she'd see how things progressed.

  "Tell me, Josh, are you afraid of the water? Have you had a bad experience in the past?"

  He hesitated, then said, "I like the water well enough. Pool water, and clear, tropic-type ocean water, that is. The sort where you can see the bottom. But I've never lived near the ocean, and I've rarely had the occasion to use a pool. There's lots of creeks, streams, rivers and watering holes at home, so I had the opportunity but never the … inclination."

  "Where is home?"

  "Manhattan."

  Creeks and watering holes? In Manhattan? Who did this guy think he was kidding? He was from Manhattan like she was from the Enchanted Forest. Trying to hide her blank disbelief she said, "You, uh, don't sound like a New Yorker."

  "Manhattan, Montana."

  "There's a Manhattan in Montana?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Right in the southwest corner. Proud to call our town The Little Apple, and it's some of the most beautiful land you'd ever want to see. I was born and raised there."

  "So are you a cowboy?"

  "I am."

  "You mean, like a real cowboy? Horses and ranches and cattle and stuff?"

  "Yes, ma'am." A slow smile creased his features, coaxing his dimple to appear, while unmistakable mischief danced in his eyes. "Would you like to see my chaps and spurs?"

  Would I ever. Heat slivered down her spine and she bit the inside of her cheek. Good grief. If this hunka-hunka gorgeous real cowboy was going to flirt with her, they'd never get this lesson started.

  "I'll take your word for it," she said in her most brisk, teacher-like voice. "Now tell me, how much experience do you have in the water?"

  His eyes continued to twinkle. "You mean, with regard to swimming?"

  The devil inside her actually toyed with the thought of matching his flirtatious demeanor and answering in kind, but she quickly abandoned the idea. She prided herself on her professionalism and commitment to her job. There'd be plenty of time for flirting later—if she decided she actually wanted to indulge.

  Shooting him the same warning look and using the same no-nonsense tone she'd perfected on hundreds of adolescent swimming students, she said, "Yes, with regard to swimming."

  He sobered, then stroked his chin. "Not much experience, I'm afraid. You see, there was this incident when I was a kid…"

  His voice trailed off and sympathy immediately crowded aside any other feelings. Just as she'd suspected. "Did you almost drown?" she asked gently.

  "No, ma'am. I was bit."

  "Bit?"

  "By a snake. We were visiting my uncle in south Texas. I was standing in this creek, in murky water up to about here." He indicated his hips with his hands. "I grabbed for a log floating by, can't think why I did it except it was there. Unfortunately I didn't see the cottonmouth swimming alongside the log, but he saw me. And he let me know it."

  "Cottonmouth! They're poisonous!"

  "They sure are. Lucky for me, the hospital was close by. Even luckier, the doctor was experienced with snakebites. Turned out the snake had delivered a defensive strike and no venom was injected." A sheepish grin pulled up one corner of his mouth. "I recovered just fine, but I'm afraid that experience sort of soured me toward rivers, lakes, streams and such, so I never lear
ned to swim."

  "Perfectly understandable. How old were you?"

  "Six. And while I can't say I'd ever want to splash around in another fresh-water location, I'm fine with the prospect of swimming in a pool or the ocean—as soon as I learn how, that is."

  This probably wasn't a good time to inform him that creatures more dangerous than snakes populated the ocean. Instead she said, "I'm so sorry that something so traumatic happened to you."

  "Well, thank you. That's certainly nicer to hear than the razzing I'm used to gettin' about it from the boys." He shook his head. "Nuthin' worse than jawing with a bunch of cowboys trading snakebite stories and you having to admit that instead of getting tagged on the boot or the ankle or even the hand, you got bit in the butt. Embarrassing, that's what it is."

  She pursed her lips to keep them from twitching at his disgruntled tone. "Look on the bright side," she suggested. "If the snake had been in front of you instead of behind you, the entire situation could have been a whole lot worse."

  A shudder shook him. "Don't I know it. Can't tell you how many bad moments the mere thought of that scenario inspired."

  Hmm. Did he have a cute little scar on his butt? Wouldn't you like to know, her inner voice jeered. Lexie mentally thunked herself in the forehead. Good Lord, now she was fantasizing about scars. Definitely time to get this lesson started.

  Offering him an encouraging smile, she said, "The fact that you're not afraid to be in the pool puts you further along than many people I've taught. One-on-one lessons with an experienced instructor always close by will give you the confidence to overcome your fears. The first thing we need to work on is getting your face in the water and learning to breathe."

  He shot her a wink and a smile. "Seeing as how I'm already a first-rate breather, this is fixin' to be easier than I thought."

  She firmly ignored the flutter his teasing roused in her. Indicating he should follow, she moved toward the middle of the pool, stopping when the water reached his waist. "I want you to breathe in, then bend forward and put your face in the water. Blow your breath out through your nose, then straighten up." She demonstrated, then asked, "Ready to try?"

  "Yes, ma'am." He sucked in a deep breath, then did as she'd instructed. When he rose, a cascade of water ran down his chest and torso. After wiping his eyes, he reached up and tunneled his fingers through his wet hair to push it back from his face. She absolutely did not notice the way his muscles rippled with the movement.

  "Any problem doing that?" she asked, forcing her roving eyeballs to remain on his face and not follow the rivulets wandering down his body.

  "Nope."

  "With many people, getting them to put their face in the water is a major obstacle."

  "Doesn't bother me a bit."

  "Excellent. Then we can move right on to the next step. Now this time, instead of standing back up to breathe in, I want you to turn your face to the side to breathe. Like this." She performed the movement several times, slowly, noting with satisfaction that he watched her intently. "Make sure you turn your head far enough," she warned. "You don't want to suck in a lungful of water."

  They spent the next fifteen minutes working on Josh's technique. He grasped the concept almost immediately, but Lexie had him repeat it over and over. As with anything else, swimming required practice, and without proper breathing you'd eventually sink like a rock. After a quarter hour she said, "That's great, Josh."

  He waggled his brows. "Told you I was a good breather. What's next?"

  "Let's see what kind of kicker you are."

  He again performed that stretching, push-his-hair-back move while a slow, devastating smile, complete with killer dimple, eased across his wet face. "Bring it on, Miss Lexie."

  Her pulse skipped a beat. Yikes. Potent. That's what this guy was. Like a shot of straight brandy. And that smile of his … holy cow. It generated enough heat to fry an egg. Her gaze riveted on his mouth … that lovely, yummy mouth. He was no doubt a great kisser.

  Ack! Where had that thought come from? Left field somewhere. More like outer space. She shook her head to dislodge the alien who'd clearly taken up residence in her brain. Swimming. Think swimming. Not kissing. Swimming. As in stroke, stroke, stroke.

  Instantly an image of his big hand stroking her naked body rose in her mind.

  Okay, bad analogy.

  Pressing her lips together, she moved toward the side of the pool to grab the two kickboards she'd left there, taking those few seconds to give herself another firm and much-needed pep talk. Get yourself together, you idiot. You're gawking at him like he's a rack of ribs and you're one step away from starvation. You've shared water-related activities with dozens of attractive men. Hell, you almost married one of them. So quit gawking and concentrate on your job.

  Yeah, that's the ticket. Now she felt better. More in control. While she couldn't deny that this particular guy set all her senses on "tingle," she could ignore that. It wasn't as if swimming was a contact sport. It wasn't as if she had to touch him or anything.

  Feeling much more in command of herself and her unruly hormones, she handed him one of the kick-boards and smiled. "Let's get those legs going."

  After showing him how to hold the board, arms extended, they kicked slow, side-by-side laps. After the first few, Lexie showed him how to add his previous lesson by putting his face in the water and turning to breathe. Thirty minutes later she called a halt. Standing in the shallow end, she applauded her pupil.

  "Great job, Josh. You'll be swimming like a fish by the end of the week."

  He stood, and she silently applauded herself, as well—for keeping her errant eyeballs fixed on his face.

  "Well, I really appreciate your help." He walked closer to her, stopping when only two feet separated them. Warmth seemed to radiate off his wet skin … or was that just her skin heating from the inside out? He looked big and solid and wet and delicious. And he was standing waaaay too close. "Is that it for tonight?"

  She bobbed her head in a jerky nod. "Yes. But I'm very pleased, as you should be. You're a fast learner."

  "You're a good teacher." He tunneled his fingers through his wet hair, and she bit down on the tip of her tongue to keep it from flopping out of her suddenly dry mouth at the rippling of all those lovely muscles. "When's our next lesson? How about early tomorrow morning?"

  He certainly was eager to learn. "I'm afraid I'm already booked in the kid's camp for the two hours before my normal shift begins. What about tomorrow night at nine?"

  "Tomorrow is Friday."

  "Yes. Do you have other plans?"

  "No." His gaze flickered downward and rested on her mouth for several seconds. That brief glance touched her like a heated caress, sending her pulse into double time. "I'm just surprised that you don't." He raised his gaze back to hers. "Tomorrow is fine with me. What's on the agenda for the next lesson?"

  Lexie swallowed and fought the sudden urge to wipe her overheated brow. When the heck had the temperature risen to three hundred degrees? "Ah, I'll teach you how to float…" Her eyes widened and she gulped. Uh-oh. Floating involved touching. Lots of touching. His gorgeous, nearly naked body.

  "You okay?"

  No. I feel like I just backed into a furnace. "I'm fine. We'll be covering, um, floating, then I'll teach you some basic strokes."

  Something heated and intense flared in his eyes and his gaze again dropped to her lips. Good grief, if he didn't stop looking at her like that, she was going to do something that would no doubt mortify her for the rest of her natural days. Such as blurt out a barrage of questions similar to, "Are you married or otherwise unavailable? Are you as attracted to me as I am to you? Does your mouth taste as good as it looks?"

  Reaching out, he touched a single, wet fingertip to her shoulder, then slowly dragged it down her arm. Goose bumps beaded her flesh, completely at odds with the inferno his feather-soft touch ignited.

  "Teach me some basic strokes," he murmured in a husky voice that tripled her pulse rate. "Tha
t sounds very … educational. I'm looking forward to it."

  Without another word he nodded to her, then exited the pool. She tried to keep her eyeballs from staring at him, but her brain apparently wasn't capable of sending out the proper signals. Damn it, the man had barely touched her, yet he'd fried her circuits but good.

  Her circuits took another jolt when he crouched to pick up his belongings. Holy cow. Those wet swim trunks clung to his backside in an exceptionally fine way. Hmm. Exactly where might that snakebite scar be, assuming he had one?

  No sooner had that thought registered in her befuddled mind than he turned to face her. Holy double cow. Those wet swim trunks clung to his front side in an absolutely heart-stopping way. He blew that entire "cold water causes penis shrinkage" theory literally out of the water.

  He draped his towel over his shoulders, then nodded at her. "Till tomorrow." Before she could reply—which could well have taken a week since she'd apparently forgotten how to speak—he headed down the darkened path and, within seconds, disappeared from sight.

  Lexie blew out a deep breath. Walking to the edge of the pool, she hoisted herself onto the edge. She wrapped her towel around her, then pulled her cell phone from her gym bag. A quick glance at her waterproof watch showed it was ten o'clock. Sort of late for a weeknight, but Darla would understand. This was an emergency.

  An image of Josh Maynard's wet body flashed in her mind and she hastily punched in Darla's number.

  No doubt about it, this was a full-scale, five-alarm emergency. The instant Darla answered, Lexie said, "I think I've found my fling guy."

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  Chapter 3

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  "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.