He blinked. "And that's a problem because…?"

"We already agreed that we're not dating."

Understanding, along with something else she couldn't define, dawned in his eyes. "I see. We're having a fling."

"That's right."

"And people having a fling aren't allowed to eat?"

"Well, yes, they can eat-"

"Are they allowed to dance?"

"I suppose, but-"

"Touch each other?" He ran his hand up and down the length of her bare back.

She shot him an exasperated look. "You sound more like a lawyer than a cowboy."

"Took a couple of business law classes on my way to being an engineer. But I admit defeat here. Maybe you should explain to me the difference between a fling and dating, 'cause I don't get it."

"You date someone to get to know them. To see if you're compatible. If you inspire emotions in each other. To see if you want to form some sort of relationship. A fling is no-strings sex. Strictly physical, no messy emotions, no thoughts of the future. Just three rules: fun, wild and temporary." She nodded, relieved she'd gotten that out in the open. "Understand?"

"Yup. Now I've got it."

"Good."

"We're dating," he said at the exact instant she said, "We're having a fling."

She stared at him, speechless. He wasn't supposed to say that. While she searched for her voice, he gently squeezed her hand resting on his chest.

"Lexie. I want to get to know you. To see if we're compatible. Explore these emotions you inspire. See if we want to form some sort of relationship."

She swallowed to moisten her dry throat. "But what about no-strings sex?"

"The sex with us is great. Better than great." He hesitated, then added, "But I'm not sure that the 'no strings' part applies."

She stared at his lips, certain those words couldn't have come out his mouth. But they must have, because they echoed through her mind as if he'd whispered them directly into her brain.

He stared at her through very serious eyes. "There's something between us. Some sort of magic. More than just sex."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've had just sex. I've had flings. And believe me, this is more. And I've felt it from the first moment I saw you. I guess the question is, do you feel it, too?"

What she felt was a strong need to sit down. Darn it, this conversation was not going at all the way it was supposed to! She'd thought for sure he'd jump all over her "strictly physical, no messy emotions, no thoughts of the future" fling definition, and thereby squash this seed that had foolishly, impossibly, planted itself in her heart.

God help her, she did feel it, too. But she didn't want to.

"Josh… nothing can happen between us."

"Lexie… something already has."

Panic fluttered in her stomach. "I'm only looking for a fling-something I would think I'd have in common with a guy who's only planning to be here for a few weeks."

He studied her for several seconds then said, "Flings aren't your usual style."

"What makes you say that?"

His dimple flashed at her suspicious tone. "I meant it as a compliment. And I can tell. The fact that you were engaged. That you hadn't had sex in a year. Your house is a home. It's cozy and warm. Like you." His serious gaze rested on her. "Am I wrong?" When she didn't answer, he asked, "How many flings have you had?"

"Including us?"

"Yes."

"One."

Tenderness filled his eyes. "Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but you're down to zero, because this is not a fling."

"But it can't be anything else. No matter how attracted I might be to you, there are things about you that just make you all wrong for me to… date."

"Such as?"

"How about the fact that you live thousands of miles away from here? What about your ranch?"

"Last I heard the airlines were still operating."

"Is that what you want? A long-distance relationship?"

"No, but-"

"Well, neither do I. And that's all we could have because I'm not moving. Never again." She rushed on before he could speak. "And what about your desire to see the world and travel? My wanderlust chromosome is dead, with a capital D. And then there's your occupation."

"You have something against cowboys?"

"I meant the rodeo."

A frown pulled down his brows. "That's my former occupation. I retired, remember?"

"Yes. But you can't retire the part of your being which craved that danger, that adrenaline rush. That made you climb on the back of a two-thousand-pound, pissed-off bull that wanted to toss you into next week-after it stomped on your head. It's the same part of you that is determined to sail around the Mediterranean. Sailing is dangerous, even for experienced sailors, which you are not. And the Mediterranean is not exactly a bathtub."

He stopped dancing. "I take safety very seriously."

"I'm sure you do. But you can't control the actions of a Brahman bull and you can't control the sea."

He held her by her upper arms, his eyes steady on hers. "I'll admit I'm not the sort of man to sit around on my hands, but is that the sort of man you want?"

"The point is, I've already had the sort of man who didn't know fear. I can't go through that again."

"I know fear. At the risk of sounding arrogant, it's what made me so good at what I did. It kept me sharp and focused. I just never allowed it to overwhelm me or stop me." He cupped her face between his palms. "And if you think I don't feel fear right now, telling you I want to explore these feelings we have, you are dead wrong. I'll come right out and admit it. I'm afraid of the way you make me feel. Afraid that you won't feel the same way about me. And scared spitless that you'll let your fear overwhelm and stop you-stop us-from finding out where this could lead." His dark eyes searched her face. "Are you going to do that, Lexie? Or are you going to look that fear in the eye and kick its ass? Do you really want to ask yourself down the road what might have been?" Leaning down, he gently kissed her. "I know I don't," he whispered against her lips.

Good Lord, he could probably sell matches to Lucifer himself. She should run, not walk, away from him. From his persuasive words and compelling eyes and coaxing kisses. But she couldn't move.

Resuming their gentle swaying to the seductive music, he said, "C'mon, Miss Lexie. Let's date and see what happens." A smile curved his lips. "Sure, we like each other now, but who knows-maybe after a few dates we'll realize we really don't care for each other at all."

Fat chance. Maybe he'd decide that, but she had a sinking feeling that she'd most likely end up with her heart battered and bruised. Still, his question echoed through her mind. Do you really want to ask yourself down the road what might have been? No, she didn't. But fear of what could lie down the road settled like a brick in her stomach. And fear won. Dam it, she hated when that happened.

Still, did it really matter if they hung the title "fling" or "dating" on themselves? No. He'd suggested "a few dates." That sounded temporary. Temporary fling, temporary dating-as long as she remembered that the operative word was "temporary" there shouldn't be a problem. Probably.

Clearing her throat she said, "Well, since you put it that way… I'm going to kick fear in its ass. Wanna date me, cowboy?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Chapter 9

"Dating him is the smartest thing you've done in years," Darla proclaimed at lunch the following afternoon after Lexie had brought her up to speed on the Josh situation.

Lexie could only stare. A good ten seconds went by before she located her voice. "What? What are you saying? You're supposed to be the voice of reason. The anchor keeping me from floating out to sea. What happened to 'repeat after me, this is only a fling'? Where's all those 'fun, wild and temporary' rules?"

Darla popped a crispy French fry into her mouth and shrugged. "I was wrong." Before Lexie could recover, Darla leaned forward and looked her directly in the eye. Or at least Lexie assumed it was directly in the eye-it was hard to tell since they both wore sunglasses.

"Look, Lexie. From everything you've told me, Josh is great-and I don't just mean in the sack, although even with your stingy lack of juicy details, I gather he is." She raised her brows for confirmation, and after Lexie nodded, Darla continued. "So you'd be crazy not to date him. How many handsome, thoughtful, kind, generous, polite, talented, smart, sexy guys-who are single and straight-and just happen to be world-class rodeo stars cross your path? Good God, woman, you've discovered a diamond in the tar pits. Thank your lucky stars and enjoy it."

"But what about the fact that he's leaving here in a few weeks?"

"Maybe if the dating goes well enough, he won't leave."

A tiny spark of hope flared in Lexie's heart, but she ruthlessly extinguished it. "Of course he'll leave. He owns a ranch in Montana. He can't just not go back. He has responsibilities."

"Just more to like about him," Darla said. "He's responsible. And owns his own company."

"Yeah. Several thousand miles away." Leaning back, Lexie dragged her hands through her hair. "And yes, he's great, but he's also a daredevil. Look at this crazy idea to sail the Mediterranean -"

"Lexie." Reaching across the frosted-glass table, Darla squeezed Lexie's hand. "It's really not all that crazy. In fact, based on what you told me about him and his dad, it's actually very sweet and sentimental."

"I know, but-"

"And he is taking every precaution, learning to swim and sail first. It's not as if he just jumped into a boat without any preparation."