"That's very distracting, you know."

"What-me bein' a cowboy?"

"The way that you're touching me."

He studied her for several seconds, absorbing the delicate shiver vibrating beneath his cruising fingertips. He liked the way her skin looked next to his. Liked the soft feel of her skin under the glide of his thumb.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head. "No. I want you to tell me why a chemical engineer cowboy wants to buy a sailboat."

Taking her hands, he turned them palms upward, and while lightly caressing the pale blue crisscross of veins on her wrists, he told her. All about his dad, and the dream they'd shared to someday sail around the Mediterranean together, and how that dream was cut short by his father's death.

"So I'm going to do it myself," he concluded. "For me, and for my dad. It won't be the same without him, but I know he'll be up in heaven cheering me on."

She entwined her fingers with his and gently squeezed. "You really loved him."

"I did. He was a great man. If I manage to be half the man he was, I'll consider that I've done real well."

An expression he couldn't decipher flickered in her eyes. "You realize that attempting such a voyage is dangerous, even for an experienced sailor."

"And that's why I'm here. To gain the experience I need."

"You'll require more knowledge than you can cram into a few weeks, Josh."

"Maybe. But I have to start somewhere. And you're just the gal to teach me everything I need to know."

Her gaze flicked down to where his thumbs drew slow circles on her palms. "I suspect that you already know plenty."

He pulled their entwined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I know what I want."

Heat, mixed with a wicked gleam, kindled in her eyes. "Do you want to know what I want?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

She leaned forward, pulling their joined hands toward her mouth. "I want to play a game. Do you like games?" she whispered against his fingers.

"I do. What kind of game did you have in mind?"

"It's called 'now it's my turn.' Would you like to know how I ended up working here at the Whispering Palms?"

"Darlin', I want to hear anything you want to tell me."

Pure deviltry stared back at him, and she began caressing his fingers, one by one, gently stroking their length. Her action was so blatantly sexual, she might as well have been stroking his penis. 'Cause for damn sure his body's reaction was the same.

"I landed here by way of almost a dozen air force bases all around the country," she said, and it took all his concentration to focus on her words. "My father was a career man, so every couple of years, phffft!-" she snapped her fingers "-we moved. The older I got, the more I hated being uprooted. Of all the places Dad was stationed, Florida was my favorite. I love the outdoors, the weather, the beach-all of it."

She paused, and with her eyes steady on his, she brought his palm to her lips. He held his breath, anticipating the feel of her lips against his skin. Instead she touched her tongue to his palm, forcing a moan from him.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Hell, no."

He could actually feel his eyes glaze over as she continued her story, all the while alternately kissing, nibbling and flicking her tongue over his fingers.

"I attended the University of Miami and earned my teaching degree. But after three years teaching elementary school, I accepted the job here." With her gaze locked on his, she sucked the tip of his index finger into the heat of her mouth, damn near stopping his heart. He endured her tongue circling his fingertip until he thought he'd explode, then he slipped his finger from her mouth and skimmed it over her bottom lip.

"Working at the resort is perfect," she said, her soft lips brushing against his finger with each word, "because I can combine teaching, which I love, with the outdoors and sports."

"Is your dad still in the air force?"

"No. He retired three years ago. He and Mom 'live'-" she made air quotes with her fingers "-in Maryland, but they're rarely home. They bought an RV and spend most of their time traveling around the country. This week they're in Arizona."

"Sounds like fun."

"They enjoy their nomadic lifestyle. Me, I've done enough wandering around to last me a lifetime."

She settled his hands palms up on the table, splayed his fingers, then proceeded to slowly trace her fingertips over calloused skin that he'd never known was so sensitive.

Silence fell between them, which was just as well because her "now it's my turn" game had shot his ability to make chitchat all to hell. Unable to endure the sweet torture she was inflicting on his palms any longer, he captured her hand and raised it to his mouth, pressing a heated kiss to the flower-scented inside of her wrist. Her lips parted and he absorbed the quickening of her pulse against his lips.

She was lovely. And smart. And had him aroused as hell. Him-Josh Maynard, regular guy. Not Josh Maynard, rodeo star. There wasn't an ounce of artifice or being celebrity-struck in her gaze. Only admiration and genuine interest-sentiments he returned-and enough heat to make him feel as if he were roasting over a barbecue pit.

Lexie looked across at Josh, his dark eyes watching her over their joined hands, her wrist tingling from the warm press of his lips, her body humming from his feather-light touches, and she had to forcibly recall how to breathe. In with the good air, out with the bad air.

Okay. Over the past two hours of beer and artery-clogging food, she'd found out that Josh Maynard was not only painfully attractive, but articulate, intelligent, amusing and had cared deeply for both his parents. She liked him. He wasn't a wacko, thank goodness, and had the sexiest smile she'd ever seen. The mere brush of his fingers against her skin had her libido dancing the cha-cha, and his hands were really, really sexy. Strong yet sensitive.

She wanted those hands on her.

And if there was any man on the planet who could kiss better than him, God bless the woman who found him. Josh not only had a beautiful mouth, he knew how to use it.

She wanted that mouth on her.

Everything masculine about him had everything feminine in her waving white flags of surrender. No doubt about it, he was the perfect fun, wild, temporary guy to end her long bout with celibacy and to catapult her back into the social swing. He was definitely Mr. Fling.

Lisa paused at their table and left the check. "You two need anything else?"

Privacy. "No, thanks, Lisa," Lexie said. Before she could reach for the check, Josh pulled it toward him and scribbled his name across the bottom, charging the amount to his room.

"I invited you," Lexie protested. "This was supposed to be my treat."

"Aw, a cowboy can't let a lady buy his beer. Think of the ribbing I'd get around the campfire."

"Like you already get for your snakebite?"

"Exactly." He cocked a single brow. "Wanna see my scar?"

His tone was light but there was no mistaking the husky note of arousal in his voice or the underlying meaning behind his question. Leaning forward, she looked him right in the eye and whispered, "Yeah. I do."

His eyes darkened, filling with heat and promise. "My place or yours?"

"Yours is closer."

He slid across the booth, stood, then held out his hand. Without breaking eye contact, she slid her hand into his.


* * *

Josh congratulated himself on his self-control while walking her across the lobby-not an easy walk with his jeans nearly strangling him. And a nearly impossible amount of time to wait to touch her. Kiss her. What was it about this woman that had him so undone? So captivated? Had him wanting her as he'd never wanted another woman? And damn it, he should know, 'cause he'd sure as hell wanted his fair share.

Another couple stepped into the elevator with them, giving him a moment to collect himself, to get his desire under control. Indeed, by the time he shut the door to his room behind them, he had everything back in perspective. Sure he liked her, sure she was desirable, but that was it. A healthy case of lust. On both sides. They'd enjoy each other tonight, hell maybe for the duration of his stay here, and then they'd go their separate ways. No mess, no fuss, no interruption or complication of his plans. Perfect. His inner voice snickered, Yeah, right, but he managed to ignore it.

He slid the door bolt into place, then crossed the room to stand in front of Lexie, who stood at the foot of the king-size bed, looking at the floor. Uh-oh. Clearly she'd also spent those few minutes in the elevator thinking. Touching one finger under her chin, he gently raised her face until their eyes met.

"Second thoughts?" he asked.

"No. Yes." A short laugh pushed past her lips. "No. It's just that I'm feeling a bit discombobulated. It's, um, been a while."

Curious he asked, "How long is 'a while'?"

A flush of clear embarrassment washed over her cheeks. "Almost a year."

A soft whistle blew past his lips. "Must have been a hell of a breakup."

"Not in an acrimonious way. Actually it was more sad than anything. He was a good guy, but just not the right guy for me."

"Were you married?"

"Engaged."

"Well, he might have been a good guy, but he couldn't have been the smartest horse in the stable to let a gal like you get away. You can't let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch of bananas."

She laughed. "Now that's a mixed metaphor if I ever heard one."

"Well, that's the kind of woman you are."

"Hey, I'm a lot of things, but I am not a metaphor mixer."