IN OVER HIS HEAD Read online

  Another one of Dad's sage tidbits tapped him on the shoulder. It don't take a genius to spot a Thoroughbred filly in a flock of sheep, 'cause you don't see one there all too often. Just takes a lucky man.

  Lexie's smiling face rose in his mind and he shook his head. The last thing he'd been looking for when he came here was a standout in the crowd, but he'd stumbled upon one just the same. Yup, he'd been in over his head the minute he'd clapped eyes on her, and last night had just sealed the deal for him. Just like his dad, he'd fallen in love at first sight.

  But damn, the timing was rotten. He'd come here for one reason—to learn what he needed so he could fulfill the dream he and Dad hadn't been able to fulfill together. So he could put that part of his life behind him and find some peace of mind. Romance, let alone falling in love, had most definitely not figured into his plans or his timetable.

  You know what they say about the best laid plans…

  And not only did the timing stink, but the location was certainly less than stellar. Hell, he was a couple thousand miles from home. From his ranch and the people who depended on him for their livelihoods. And he was only here for the next few weeks. No, findin' a gal like Lexie here and now was a complication he hadn't banked on. And as if there weren't enough roadblocks already, there was Lexie herself to consider. He clearly sensed she wasn't looking for any sort of serious entanglement, and even if she were, she wouldn't choose a guy who only planned to be around for a few weeks. No, he'd bet his bottom dollar that to her, last night had been nothing more than a fling—a way to end her nearly year-long sabbatical from sex.

  A humorless laugh escaped him. Unbelievable. For the first time in his life he'd fallen in love, and the object of his affections only wanted him for sex. How ironic was that?

  Well, he could play it cool. No need to tip his hand yet. He was a patient man, willing to give her some time to fall in love with him. As long as she didn't take too damn long about it.

  A soft splash caught his attention and he opened his eyes. Lexie was walking slowly down the curved steps into the water. Their eyes met, and damn if it didn't feel as if he'd taken a sucker punch to the gut. Annoyed with himself for wanting to just reach out and grab her like some primitive caveman or uncouth, horny teenager, he kept his arms spread and gripped the edge of the pool for all he was worth.

  She waded toward him with a half-shy, half-knowing expression that aroused a lot more than just interest. Her dark brown hair surrounded her head in curly abandon, and he instantly recalled the feel of its silky softness sifting through his fingers. His gaze settled on her mouth and he bit back a groan. Hands down, she possessed the most gorgeous lips he'd ever seen. And God help him, he couldn't wait to taste them again.

  She stopped directly in front of him and offered him a half smile. "Hi. Hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

  The newly minted certainty that he'd been waiting for her a lot longer than the ten minutes he'd been standing in the pool crept through his mind. "Just arrived myself." By God, it was nearly impossible not to snatch her into his arms. But she had said she wanted things to remain businesslike in the pool. And there was no doubt that he'd be hard-pressed to let her go once he got hold of her.

  "Did you have a good day?" she asked.

  His grip on the edge tightened. "Yup."

  "Did you find a sailboat you liked?"

  "Nope."

  She cocked a brow. "Something wrong?"

  Nothing that a few hours alone with you wouldn't cure. "Nope. I'm just remembering what you said last night about keeping it just to swimming lessons in the pool. Wouldn't want you gettin' all mad at me." One corner of his mouth lifted. "Figured I'd play hard to get."

  "Hard to get, huh?" Reaching out, she touched one finger to the base of his throat, then slowly dragged her fingertip down the center of his chest. "How hard?"

  With a groan, he yanked her into his arms. "I give up."

  His mouth covered hers in a demanding, impatient kiss, filled with all the overwhelming feelings and pent-up frustration he'd felt all day. His tongue explored all the sweet secrets of her mouth, while his hands smoothed down her back to her bottom, pulling her flush against him. She moaned, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer, and he was lost. Lost in the feel of her curves under his hands. Her soft breasts crushed to his chest.

  Her flowery scent rose from her skin like tropical steam, invading his senses. Spreading his legs farther apart, he shifted, slowly rubbing his erection against the curve of her belly. A shudder ran through her, echoing in him, and it took every drop of his nearly depleted control to keep himself from simply yanking aside the thin barriers of their swimsuits and easing this relentless ache pounding through him. Unfortunately this was neither the time nor the place.

  With an effort that cost him, he gentled their kiss, nibbling lightly on her lips, then raising his head. Her warm breath panted against him, and she looked as dazed and bemused as he felt.

  "Holy cow," she said in a rough, raspy whisper. She took in two deep breaths, then blinked at him. "Okay, you've got to be the only cowboy who kisses like that."

  "Like what?"

  "In that liquefy-the-brain-cells, deplete-the-oxygen, knee-removing way."

  A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because if every cowboy kissed like you, nothing except kissing would get done on the ranch. The entire beef and cattle industries would go right down the tubes, sending the economy into a tailspin."

  He wanted to make a witty rejoinder, something to make her smile, to keep the conversation light, but when he spoke, the simple, undeniable truth tumbled out.

  "I thought about you all day."

  Lexie looked into his dark, serious eyes, and her the performed a cartwheel. She certainly could say the same to him, although she briefly considered not doing so. But to lie about something so obvious, no doubt God would smite her with a lightning bolt. "I thought about you, too."

  He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, the intimate gesture tingling pleasure down her spine. "During my sailboat-shopping travels today, I ran across a country-western place not too far from here. They serve food and drinks, and there's a dance floor and a couple of pool tables, too. Would you like to go tonight, after our lesson?"

  "You must mean Buffalo Pete's."

  "Yeah, that was the name of it. Have you ever been?"

  "Many times. It's a local favorite. The wings are hot and the beer's icy cold. I'd love to go." She smiled, then forced herself to step away from him, not easy considering everything in her wanted to remain plastered against him. "Ready for our lesson?"

  "I'm ready for anything you're willin' to dish out, Miss Lexie."

  She cocked a brow at him. "Are we still talking about swimming?"

  His dimple flashed. "For now."

  * * *

  Josh employed the attention-focusing ability that had stood him in good stead during years of rodeo competition to concentrate on their swimming lesson. Following Lexie's directions, he practiced his breathing, then added the kickboard. Then she showed him the arm movements for the basic crawl stroke, which they practiced side by side. She then had him add the breathing, and finally, the kicking. She was patient, businesslike, and tireless, going over the movements with him again and again. Between her determination and his perseverance, by the end of the hour, he'd made it to the opposite end of the pool and back.

  He stood in the shallow and swiped back his wet hair. She gave him a broad grin, then applauded.

  "Great job, Josh. Ninety percent of swimming is mastering the right kick-stroke-breathing pattern, and you now have a good feel for the rhythm. From here, all you need is practice. You're certainly ready to start sailing lessons."

  Unable to control his smug grin, he caught her around the waist, lifted her up and spun her around. She grasped his shoulders and laughed.

  He lowered her slowly, enjoying the slide of her wet body down his. "When can we start those sailing les
sons, oh, great and wise teacher? Tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow is my day off."

  Disappointment edged through him. "So that means you're not available?"

  "Actually, it means I'm available all day."

  His gaze wandered down to her full lips, and his heart thumped hard. "Now that's what I call good news."

  "The best news is the great progress you've made in such a short amount of time. I think you're the best student I've ever had."

  "Well, I know you're the best teacher I've ever had. And definitely the prettiest."

  She leaned back in the circle of his arms and shot him a teasing grin. "Oh, come on. I bet there were loads of pretty science and math teachers at the University of Montana."

  "There might have been, but my teachers tended toward the bearded, gray-haired, masculine variety."

  "Hmm. So, me being the prettiest teacher you've ever had isn't much of a compliment considering the competition."

  "Well, you're also the sexiest teacher I've ever had."

  "More so than the 'bearded, gray-haired, masculine variety.' Gee, thanks."

  He shot her a mock fierce frown and tightened his arms around her. "You're a tough gal to give a compliment to."

  "And you're hard—"

  "Because of you—"

  "—to resist."

  Her wicked smile fired his blood. "Well, now," he said, "that's very good to hear. I suggest we consider this lesson officially over. You still up for our date at Buffalo Pete's?"

  She leaned closer and rose up on her toes to lightly tug on his earlobe with her teeth. A fog of lust enveloped him and he nearly missed her heart-stopping reply.

  "Oh, I'm definitely up for it," she whispered against his ear. "For starters."

  * * *

  Buffalo Pete's was in full Saturday-night swing when they arrived shortly before 11:00 p.m. Bodies pressed three-deep at the long, polished mahogany bar, and waitresses wearing denim cutoffs, cowboy boots, and white T-shirts emblazoned with the bar's logo weaved expertly between the tables and booths. Couples swirled on the dance floor to a lively Garth Brooks tune, and the smack of billiard balls from the back room rose faintly above the noise and music.

  Josh took her hand, entwining their fingers, and Lexie relished the warmth of her palm nestled against his. He led her to the hostess stand where a smiling young woman greeted them. She grabbed two plastic-coated menus, then escorted them through a labyrinth of tables toward the rear where she left them at a small table tucked in a cozy, softly lit corner. Josh held out her chair for her—an act of masculine courtesy she'd thought had gone by way of the dinosaur—then folded himself into the chair across from her.

  Dressed in cowboy boots, eye-riveting snug jeans, denim shirt and a cream-colored Stetson, he certainly looked at home here, and since he wouldn't be able to hear it over the noise, she didn't even try to contain the sigh of female appreciation the sight of him inspired. The top snap of his shirt was undone, inducing another sigh at the teasing glimpse of his tanned throat. It just made her want to crawl onto his lap, unsnap the rest of his shirt, and play peekaboo.

  Prying her gaze away from that fascinating fantasy-inducer, she took in the tanned sinew of his forearms where he'd rolled back his sleeves. The man definitely had great arms. And the fact that they were half-covered again made her want to remove his shirt—with her teeth.

  And there was no denying that the sight of him wearing that Stetson did weird things to her pulse rate. The way it shadowed the upper part of his face, obscuring his eyes, yet giving her an unimpeded view of his beautiful mouth—a mouth he most definitely knew how to use—lent him an unnervingly predatory air that kicked up her temperature a good ten degrees.

  Removing his hat, he set it on the empty seat next to him, then skimmed his fingers through his thick, dark hair. His gaze roamed over her with an appreciation that zoomed a feminine tingle right down to her toes. Good grief, he had a way of looking at her that made her feel absolutely beautiful. Feminine. And desirable. Reaching out, he captured her hand, then pressed a warm kiss in her palm. "You did it again, and I've got to know how."

  She didn't have a clue what she'd done, but based on his heated expression, she was damn glad she'd done it. "How I did what?"

  "Managed to get yourself so gorgeous in less than half an hour."

  Humph. It might not have taken her long to get ready in the employee locker room, but before leaving her house this morning, she'd agonized over what outfit to bring—something she never did. After trying on a dozen different things, she'd finally decided upon a simple turquoise sundress and matching sandals. The sleeveless dress was fitted on the top, dipped low in the back, and flared into a full skirt that ended several inches above her knees. Of course, he didn't need to know she'd fretted and worried over what to wear as if they were attending a state dinner at the White House.

  She smiled across at him. "I've never been the spend-an-hour-getting-ready type. I wear more sunscreen than makeup, and I gave up long ago trying to tame my hair since it does whatever it wants no matter how much I fuss with it. With the heat and humidity here in Florida, in order to keep my sanity, I've become pretty low maintenance. What you see is what you get."

  He touched his tongue to the center of her palm. "Promise?"

  The waitress suddenly appeared at the table, sparing Lexie the need to reply, which was probably just as well since his question and the touch of his tongue had rendered her mute. While Josh ordered beer, wings and nachos, Lexie nodded her assent and took several much needed deep breaths. Good grief, at this rate, with the way he affected her breathing, she'd hyperventilate before their drinks arrived.

  She glanced up at their waitress, and noticed that the young woman was staring at Josh with an odd expression, one that almost seemed to border on awe. Not that Lexie could blame her—he was pretty awe-inspiring. But really, this woman was being just a tad obvious.

  Josh, however, appeared oblivious, and handed her the menus with a friendly smile, then returned the full wattage of his attention back on Lexie.

  "So tell me," he said, recapturing her hand, "is what I see really gonna be what I get? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Miss Lexie, you look so hot in that dress, Buffalo Pete is going to have to take the batteries out of his smoke alarms." His eyes again wandered over her. "How is it that a gal like you has remained unattached for a year? I can only figure there's something wrong with the men around here—sunstroke or hit on the head with coconuts or something."

  Warmth spread through her at his compliment. "My energies have been focused on things other than my social life. But I've managed to work in a few dates, compliments of my friend Darla who keeps trying to fix me up. Disasters, all of them." She looked toward the ceiling and shook her head. "Yes, I'm quite the expert on first dates. Unfortunately, I know next to nothing about second dates."

  "This is our second date, and you're doing just fine."

  "I suspect you're just easy to please."

  "Actually, I'm extremely choosy."

  "Besides, we're not really dating."

  His brows shot upward. "No? Where I come from, this is called a date."

  "Well, I suppose technically this is a date, but I wouldn't say we're dating."

  "What would you say we're doing?"

  There was something in his tone, in the underlying seriousness, watchfulness, lurking behind the playfulness that set up a fluttering in her stomach. "Well, the very temporary nature of our … arrangement … places it more in the category of a … fling."

  He studied her for several seconds with an unreadable expression, and she found herself holding her breath. But then he said, "I see. I suppose you're right."

  For reasons she couldn't explain and refused to examine, his agreement disappointed her.

  Oh, come on, Lexie. What did you expect him to say? That he'd chuck his life in Manhattan, Montana, and stay here so you could date?

  His fingers lightly caressed the length of hers, recalling her attention. "So
tell me about one of these disastrous first dates."

  "Ugh. They were all bad. But the worst was this past winter." She leaned forward and confided, "He had this weird breast fetish."

  "I hate to break this to you, sweetheart, but lots of guys do."

  "Not my breasts. His breasts. He kept touching them, feeling and pinching them. Like he was tuning in the knobs on an old-fashioned radio. He wanted me to suck on them."

  "Well, him wanting you to suck them isn't that weird."

  "We were on the dance floor at his company's holiday party."

  "Oh. That's weird."

  She shook her head. "Being with my ex for so long, I was out of practice in the dating pool. But every time I attempted to dip my toe back in, I found myself surrounded by sharks and other assorted bottom feeders. I finally decided it wasn't worth the hassle—at least until someone who seemed normal happened along."

  A slow smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "So I guess I seemed normal, huh?"

  "Well, at least you don't have 'pyscho' stamped on your forehead. And we've been here a good ten minutes without you asking me to suck on your boobs."

  "Night's still young."

  She shot him a stern look, then added, "And you haven't asked me to bungee jump, shoot the Amazon, or swim with the alligators. Yeah, you seem normal enough."

  "Well, there's no denyin' I'm glad I happened along. But what's this about bungee jumping and alligators? More first-date disasters?"

  "No. I was referring to my ex-fiancé. I'm afraid he was something of a daredevil."

  "He swam with alligators?"

  "Yup. Wrestled them, too. And dove off cliffs. Jumped out of airplanes. Mountain climbed. Surfed during hurricanes. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. He was a total adrenaline junkie. Made Evil Knievel look like a preschool act."

  "And he broke things off with you because you wouldn't join him in his crazy adventures?"

  "No, I broke off with him because I couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't stand spending any more nights in the emergency room. Couldn't handle my heart stopping every time the phone rang because I knew the next phone call would be the one from the police telling me he was dead. Or paralyzed. He tried, he really did, for me, to confine his adventures to less dangerous activities, but within a month he was miserable. And that made me miserable. So he went back, with a vengeance. Won some regional competitions in a variety of extreme sports—nearly killing himself in the process. When he fell in with a lifestyle that included other women, I couldn't tolerate it any longer."