"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."

"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?

No, she did not. No way.

They joined a half dozen other couples on the parquet dance floor. The quartet of musicians played something romantic and slow, and Josh pulled her into his arms. While one of her hands encircled his neck, he captured the other and pressed their entwined fingers against his chest. He settled his other hand low on her bare back.

Warmth kindled at the contact, flaring into sizzling heat when his fingers slowly feathered up and down her spine. Between his caressing hand, the brush of his hard body against hers as they swayed to the music, and his clean-shaven cheek resting against her hair, she was in danger of melting into a quivering blob right on the Blue Flamingo's elegant wood floor.

"You're very quiet," he said, the soft words warm against her ear. "You okay?"

She debated lying, but couldn't bring herself to utter the falsehood. But how much of her inner turmoil and confusing feelings did she really want to admit? Raising her head from its very cozy nest on his shoulder, she looked at him and said, "To tell you the truth, I'm sort of nervous."

He instantly pulled her closer to him. "That better?"

"Actually, it's worse."

Unmistakable desire flared in his dark eyes. "I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. You, in that dress…" He took a deep breath. "Have mercy. My willpower has never been so sorely tested. 'Cause as much as I love that dress on you, I can't wait to get it off you."

"That's funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you and that suit."

"You know what they say about great minds." He studied her for several seconds. "But I get the feelin' something else is bothering you."

"What makes you think that?"

"You've got this little pucker between your eyebrows. And your lips are pursed just a tiny bit."

Damn! She instantly relaxed her facial muscles and he smiled.

"Too late, I already saw it."

"You don't know me well enough to be able to read my expressions." So accurately.

"I'm pretty good at reading people. And I've spent a lot of time the past few days looking at you." He raised his brows. "Am I wrong?"

"No," she admitted in a disgruntled tone. "Sheesh. You can ride horses, cook, clean up and now decipher my expressions. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Yeah. Read your mind." He pressed his hand to the small of her back, bringing her closer against him. A sheet of paper couldn't have squeezed between them. "Tell me what's wrong."

"All right. The problem is that this is a… date," she whispered in an accusatory hiss.