IN OVER HIS HEAD

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  How the hell could he possibly hope to explain that to her without telling her truths he sensed she wasn't ready to hear? Truths that if he revealed too soon he feared might make her bolt like a spooked rabbit? Hell, except for Lexie, if a woman he'd just met a few days ago had told him she loved him, he'd have disappeared so fast he would have left a vapor trail behind him.

  He wanted to tell her how he felt about her, but damn it, he was afraid. Afraid it was too soon. Afraid she'd tell him to get lost. Afraid she wouldn't love him back.

  A bomb exploded in the emotional minefield he was trying, with little success, to navigate. As much as he might not want to, he needed to wait a little longer before he threw his heart into the arena.

  Luckily he was spared the need to respond when Scout jumped onto the bed and let loose with a loud meow.

  "She's saying hello," Lexie said with a smile.

  Josh winked at the cat who, he swore, winked back.

  "She responds well to flattery," Lexie said.

  Flattery? "Er, cats rule, dogs drool."

  Scout clearly agreed. After an extensive butt-in-the-air stretch, she curled up on Lexie's pillow with a contented purr, then shut her eyes.

  Not anxious to return to her unanswered question about how she'd inspired such passion in him, Josh asked, "Why'd you name her Scout?"

  "The day I brought her home from the animal shelter, she climbed out of her sleeping box. I found her curled up in my bookcase. She was so tiny and cute, snoozing away on my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird."

  "She probably thought it was a feline how-to manual."

  Lexie laughed. "Probably. So I named her after Scout in the book." She wriggled a bit, arousing interest in body parts he'd thought would have been unrousable for quite some time yet.

  "I didn't think I'd ever say this after that huge breakfast you made, but I think I'm hungry again."

  "It's all that fresh air and exercise." He brushed a wayward curl from her forehead. "Just to warn you, you'll probably be pretty sore tomorrow from our ride."

  Mischief danced in her eyes. "Our horseback ride?"

  "That would be the one."

  "I'll be fine. I'm in good shape."

  "You sure are." He dropped a quick kiss on her tempting lips. "I vote we grab some lunch, then start our first sailing lesson."

  "Sounds great." Her smile warmed him down to his boots. "You're going to love sailing."

  "I guess I can stand anything for five minutes," he teased, echoing her earlier words before their ride.

  "It will be the best five minutes of your life. So good you won't want to stop."

  He looked into her eyes and another bomb in the minefield detonated.

  Suddenly he didn't doubt her words for a minute. And that scared the hell out of him.

  * * *

  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."

&nbs
p; "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?