IN OVER HIS HEAD

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  "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.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Lexie stood frozen in place, heart pounding, the roug
h concrete of the pool apron abrading her shoulders, her mind a blank except for the mantra pumping through it. He's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me.

  She'd thought about little else during their lesson. She'd watched him as he'd floated, his eyes closed, staring at his sexy mouth form words about his home. Imagining that sexy mouth on hers.

  Bracing his hands against the edge on either side of her, he bracketed her between his strong arms. His gaze slid from her eyes down to her mouth, and he leaned slowly forward. A brushfire of heat sizzled through her.

  His lips brushed softly over hers, once, twice, with a teasing gentleness that immediately made her want more. Parting her lips, she touched her tongue to his bottom lip. And in a heartbeat the kiss changed from gentle to Oh. My. God.

  With a low groan, he stepped closer. His arms came around her, his mouth covered hers. She was completely surrounded by him. By the delicious feel of his body pressing against hers. The warmth emanating from his wet skin. His large hands combing through her hair then skimming slowly down her back. The exquisite sensation of his tongue exploring her mouth.

  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she indulged herself in the onslaught of sensations assaulting her. Everything faded except the need to feel more of him. Taste more him. Touch more of him. She ran her palms up his back, reveling in the contrast of textures of smooth, firm skin over hard muscle. Desire, hot and insistent and for so long forgotten, gushed through her, turning her insides to syrup. His hands slipped down to the small of her back and puller her closer. His erection pressed against her belly, inspiring a dizzying myriad of sensual images of him, and her, together.

  A shriek of feminine laughter broke through the fog of arousal engulfing her. Clearly Josh heard it, too, because he lifted his head. A long mental noooooo of protest echoed in Lexie's lust-frazzled brain at the abrupt end to their kiss, and she forced her eyes open. Josh stared at her with an expression that seemed to simultaneously say "I want more" and "What the hell just happened?" The perfect mirror of her own thoughts.

  Another burst of giggles sounded and Lexie turned toward the noise. A young couple emerged from the pathway leading from the beach. Arms entwined, laughing, they skirted the perimeter of the pool, so wrapped up in each other they never even noticed Lexie and Josh.

  Pulling in a much-needed deep breath, Lexie returned her attention to Josh and found him still studying her with enough simmering heat to melt a polar ice cap, heat made all the more intense by the fact that their bodies still touched from chest to knee.

  The need to say something, to break the tension-fraught silence, pushed at her, but unfortunately the only words that came immediately to mind were "Wanna get naked, cowboy?" Since that seemed somewhat lacking in finesse, she remained silent.

  Finally he spoke. "That was some kiss."

  She swallowed to locate her voice. "Can't argue with you on that."

  The dimple in his cheek flashed. "Now that's a trait I really like in a woman."

  "Being a good kisser?"

  "Well, yeah, but I meant not arguing with me. And besides, you're not a good kisser."

  "Oh?" She deliberately shifted her gaze down to where his erection still pressed against her, then looked back up at him with raised brows. "This…" she drawled, giving him a gentle nudge with her pelvis, "tells me differently."

  "It sure does. It means you're an incredible kisser."

  His words, delivered in that aroused-husky voice, combined with the desire so obvious in his eyes, was like a balm to her bruised feminine ego. His gaze slid down to her mouth, making it clear he intended to kiss her again. Her heart stuttered at the thought, but common sense prevailed and she laid her hands on his chest.

  "Not a good idea, Josh."

  He stilled, his gaze questioning. "Because…?"

  "While there's no sense in pretending that that kiss wasn't mind-blowing, this isn't an appropriate place, especially for me." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The resort sort of frowns on its employees engaging in passionate exchanges in the pool."

  "That's understandable. Disappointing, but understandable."

  Resuming her normal voice, she said, "You're paying me for swimming lessons. Let's keep it to just that while we're in the pool."

  He nodded slowly. "All right. But what about once we're out of the pool?"

  A quick war waged inside her—the part that wanted to remain in her safe cave versus the woman that wanted, needed, to break free. Break-free woman won, hands down. "Why don't we get dressed, then meet in the hotel bar? We can have a drink and some conversation and … see what happens."

  His gaze remained steady on hers, and she could almost hear him reflecting her own thought. I think we both know what's going to happen.

  "All right," he said.

  "Great." He didn't move, and after a few seconds she said, "If you'll just back up, I'll—"

  "I can't do that."

  "Sure you can."

  "No, I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you're standing on my foot."

  She looked down and, sure enough, the underwater lights showed that she was indeed standing on his foot. Good grief, he even had good-looking feet. Good-looking, big feet. Darla's smirk rose in her mind's eye. You know what they say about men with big feet, Lexie.

  Yup, she knew. And the impressive size of his erection pressing against her left no doubt that the saying was true in Josh's case. The mere thought fired up a sizzle of lust that all but crispy-fried her synapses. Definitely time to get out of the water before she did something in a public place that could lead to an arrest.

  She slid her foot from his, then waded purposefully toward the steps. Exiting the warm water, she wrapped her towel around her body, feeling the need to put something between her and this unsettling man who had all but turned her into one big, pulsating hormone. Jeez, her reaction to him bordered on embarrassing. Surely she'd be able to remain more focused, be more able to think and to carry on a conversation, once they were both dressed and there was a table, a couple of beer mugs, and maybe an order of wings between them.

  When she turned around, she noted with relief that he'd exited the pool and slipped on his T-shirt. Grabbing up her things, she said, "I'll head over to the employees' locker room to change. See you in the bar in thirty minutes?"

  "Wouldn't miss it." His dimple winked at her, and she had to force herself not to lick her lips. Lips that still tingled from the feel of his. But there was no stopping the yum, yum that wafted through her mind.

  * * *

  Sitting in a corner booth, Josh watched Lexie walk into the bar and every one of his nerve endings jumped like a bronc coming out of the chute. She wore a black tank top, a full, fire-engine-red skirt whose hem skimmed her toned legs at mid-thigh, and low-heeled black sandals. Her shiny dark hair curled around her head like a halo. She looked fresh, clean and damn near good enough to eat. And God knows he'd been ready to devour her in the pool. The instant she'd touched her tongue to his lip, she'd set him off like a bottle rocket. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt such intense, instantaneous combustion. Sure, he'd experienced sparks plenty of times before, but nothing like that.

  If she hadn't called a halt, he didn't doubt for a second that things in the pool would have quickly burned out of control. This was better, his mind told his protesting body for the dozenth time since he'd exited the pool. Based on her suggestion to meet for drinks and conversation, he clearly sensed that she wanted them to spend some time getting to know each other a bit before they explored where that kiss would lead. Well, that was fine with him. He was definitely interested in finding out more about her, and more than willing to give the lady whatever she wanted and needed.

  The lady in question grinned and waved at the bartender, holding up two fingers at him. Then her gaze panned the room. As the bar was half-empty, she spotted him almost immediately, and made her way across the polished wood floor to his table.

  Sliding acro
ss from him into the booth, she smiled and said, "Hi."

  A cloud of some incredible, sexy, flowery fragrance wafted over him, fogging his brain. Thirty minutes. How the hell had she gone from soaking-wet swim teacher to this curly haired, scrumptious-smelling siren in thirty minutes? Good Lord, he knew women who took longer than that just to apply their makeup. He narrowed his eyes at her. It didn't appear she was wearing any makeup, and if she was, it wasn't much. In fact, all he could detect for sure was a hint of gloss on her lips that made them look even more tempting than usual.

  Forcing his gaze away from that enticing mouth, their eyes met, and for the first time he could clearly see their color. Hazel. An intriguing mix of amber flecks on a bluish-gray background.

  She waved her hand in front of his face, breaking him out of his stupor. "You okay, Josh?"

  Nope. Feel like I've just been tossed from the saddle. Recalling that this was supposed to be a conversation/get-to-know-each-other session, he returned her smile. "Yup, just fine. You fix up real nice, Miss Lexie."

  "Ha. You're only saying that because this is the first time you've seen me when I haven't looked like someone just dumped a bucket of water over my head."

  Before he could assure her that she looked just fine all wet, a pretty redheaded waitress delivered two frosty mugs of beer to the table. "Hey, Lexie," she said with a smile, then she gave him a friendly nod. "Can I bring you two anything to eat?"

  Lexie looked at him. "Hungry?"

  "Always."

  A flicker of awareness glimmered in her eyes. "Any preferences?"

  "Anything you choose will be just fine with me."

  "Hmm. Any aversion to spicy food?"

  "The spicier the better."

  "You're not a vegetarian, are you?"

  "You're askin' a cowboy that?"

  "Right. Dumb question." Turning toward the waitress, she said, "We'll have the extra-large Five-Alarm Platter, Lisa."

  "Comin' right up," Lisa said with a jaunty smile, then she turned and headed back toward the bar.