"I reckon the palm frond basket-making is one I can skip," he said, yanking her attention back to the conversation. "What I need to learn is how to sail."

She noted he said need as opposed to want. "We offer beginner lessons here at the resort, and I can recommend several excellent sailing schools in the area for more advanced lessons. Do you have any sailing experience?"

"No, ma'am. But I'm a quick learner, and I've read up on the subject. What I need is practical, hands-on instruction." He looked around, as if trying to see if anyone was listening to them. Then he stepped closer, leaning toward her. Warmth that had nothing to do with the bright sun enveloped her, along with his scent-a combination of freshly laundered clothing and some sort of woodsy musk that tapped her hormones on the shoulders and proclaimed, "Boy, does he smell good." She firmly told her hormones to sit down and shut up. Sheesh! She'd taken one look at this guy and lost her marbles. He was probably married with three kids. Or engaged. She glanced down. No ring. But that didn't prove anything.

Lowering his voice he said, "The problem is, Miss Webster-"

"Lexie."

"-yes, ma'am, is that before I learn to sail, I need some more-" he cast another quick look around "-basic type of instructions."

"In what area?"

"I'm, uh, well… this is embarrassing to admit, but I'm not a real good swimmer."

Understanding dawned, and sympathy tugged at her. Had he suffered some childhood water-related trauma? Such was often the case when adults couldn't swim. "I see. Well, that's not a problem, Josh, nor should you be embarrassed. I've taught many adults how to swim. We offer classes twice a week-"

"I need more than twice a week, and to be honest, I'd prefer not to take lessons with other folks around-at least not until I develop some proficiency."

"So you want private lessons?"

"Yes, ma'am. I shouldn't need too many. My coordination and strength are good. What I don't have is experience." He laid his hand over his heart and dipped his chin, looking at her with soulful puppy-dog eyes. "Please say you're available to help me. You'd be the answer to my prayers."

Yikes. Was there a woman currently breathing who could resist that look? That heartfelt plea? If so, God bless her.

Lexie quickly mulled over his offer, and just as quickly decided to accept. With the extra cash she could earn teaching Mr. Cowboy, especially now that the tourist season was approaching a lull, he could be the answer to her prayers, as well.

She quoted her hourly rate and he agreed without batting an eye. "When do we start?" he asked, casting an askance glance at the crowded pool.

"The pool is open twenty-four hours, but it's normally unoccupied in the evenings. Why don't we meet here tonight at nine?"

"Nine sounds great. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She glanced down at her watch and realized her lunch break was over. "I have a snorkeling session now, but I'll see you this evening."

He touched his hat and nodded. "I'm looking forward to it, ma'am."


* * *

Josh watched her zigzag expertly around the lounge chairs on her way toward the beach. His gaze traveled down her back, noting the smooth muscles in her golden-tanned thighs and calves. She was fairly small and compact, but very nicely put together. Between her dark sunglasses and baseball cap, he hadn't been able to see much of her face or hair, but she had a beautiful, friendly smile. And great lips.

A bunch of his buddies were leg men, and some were breast men, some a combination of both, and most possessed an appreciation of the female posterior, as well. While Josh easily admired all those feminine attributes, he was definitely what he'd term a lip man. And Lexie Webster possessed just the sort of well-shaped, full, moist-looking mouth that made him groan.

And by damn, her legs, breasts and posterior were fine-looking, too. And she smelled like one of those long, cool, tropical drinks. The kind that made you want to take a nice big… lick.

To top it all off, he especially liked the fact that she had no idea who he was. Yeah, she'd given him the once-over, but clearly his name and face didn't ring any bells with her, which suited him just fine. A lot of the women who followed the rodeo circuit made big plays for him and, while the attention had been flattering at first, he'd eventually reached the point where he didn't know if a woman liked him for himself or because of his championship titles. He hated to be cynical, but there was no denying that the more competitions he'd won, the more attractive he'd become to the ladies.

But unlike the women from the circuit or from home, Miss Lexie Webster didn't know him from a hole in the ground. And that was perfect. He needed to keep his mind on the task at hand. Learn to swim. Then learn to sail a boat, and then, by damn, sail it, and see something of the world while he did. For himself, and for Dad. After that, he wasn't sure what the future would hold, but for right now, he wasn't looking any further than mastering this water stuff.

Making his way back toward the lobby, he debated the wisdom of hiring an attractive woman to teach him. He recalled the tornado of images that had whirled through his mind when she'd said So you want private lessons-images that had nothing to do with swimming or sailing. But he forced the worry aside. He could do anything he set his mind to. He'd just pretend Lexie Webster was one of the guys.

After all, how distracting could one small woman be?


* * *

At eight forty-five that evening Josh walked along one of the winding flagstone paths leading toward the pool. Lush vegetation surrounded the meandering walkway. Palms towered overhead, their long curving leaves rustling in the gentle, tropical-scented breeze. A full moon glowed, casting shimmering silver ribbons on the calm ocean, and the soothing splash of one of the grounds' many waterfalls reached his ears.

He nodded to a hand-holding, strolling couple, then, as he crossed over a small wooden bridge, he spied another couple embracing on the beach, backlit by the moon's glow. He could easily see how this setting, with its potent combination of the ocean, the salt air, the swaying palms and the need for very little clothing could turn one's thoughts to romance.

But not him. No sirree. His agenda left no time for canoodling. In fact, romancing of any kind was the furthest thing from his mind. Every last ounce of his concentration was firmly focused on the pool and his upcoming swimming lesson.

He rounded a curve in the path. The pool lay just ahead, its aqua surface glistening under the moonlight, its pale bottom softly lit by underwater lights. During his walk around the grounds after dinner, he'd discovered that this pool was like no other he'd ever seen. It was more part of a series of pools branching off from the main pool, all connected by tunnels. Folks could swim or float in an inner tube from one pool to the next, take a break from the sun in the shade of one of the tunnels, or splash in one of the waterfalls cascading from the rock formations. A swim-up bar was situated along the far side, and steam rose from the trio of hot tubs gurgling from behind another huge rock formation. And here he'd thought pools came in two shapes: rectangle or oval.

A quick glance around indicated the pool area was deserted. Good. His lesson was scheduled to start in about ten minutes, and he didn't relish the thought of an audience gawking at him while he learned something most five-year-olds already knew how to do.

He was just about to drop his towel onto a lounge chair when a splash caught his attention. Turning toward the sound, he froze. And stared.

A feminine figure was emerging from the pool, rising slowly from the shallow end, her curvaceous form revealed inch by tantalizing inch as she seemingly glided toward the wide curved steps leading from the water. She appeared from that aqua-hued water like a slow-motion shimmering sea nymph, and he suddenly knew how Ulysses must have felt when he caught sight of those sirens.

She climbed the last step, then stood in profile to him at the edge of the pool. Droplets clung to her skin, meandering slowly downward. His gaze followed the path of those drops, and he damn near swallowed his tongue. She had more curves on her than a mountain road. Curves that were put on further heart-stopping display when she stretched, reaching up to smooth her hands over her slicked-back, chin-length hair.

He shook his head to clear away the lustful fog shrouding his brain and also to redirect his eyeballs, which, thank God, were attached to him or they'd have flopped out onto the cement. A frown yanked down his brows, and he huffed out a disgusted sound. What the hell was wrong with him? She was just a gal in a swimsuit. And a plain ol' one-piece swimsuit at that. He'd seen dozens of women today wearing far less. Maybe he could understand him losing his mind like that if this gal'd been wearing a teeny bikini…

Instantly he imagined that curvy form in a teeny bikini, and heat shot through him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose to dispel the image. Hell, he had to get a hold of himself before his instructor arrived-

"Is that you, Josh?" asked a familiar feminine voice.

He jumped as if he'd squatted on his spurs. Uh-oh. Unless he missed his mark-and he rarely did-that familiar feminine voice came from the exact location where the water nymph stood. And that could only mean one thing.

His swimming instructor, Miss Lexie Webster, was none other than the curvaceous pool goddess.

Forcing his eyes open, he watched her walk toward him. She moved with that same fluid grace he'd noticed this afternoon, only it was easier to see that grace in all its glory now that it wasn't covered up by a baggy T-shirt and shorts.

In spite of the fact that he gave himself a mental kick in the ass and tried to move toward her, he simply stood there as if his feet were glued in place.

When she reached him, she greeted him with a friendly smile. "Ready for your lesson?"

Most likely he nodded, but he wasn't sure. He certainly meant to, but it seemed all he could do was gawk. No doubt about it, he went from zero to smitten in a nanosecond. He'd thought her attractive this afternoon, but now, without the sunglasses and baseball hat, the word that came to mind was… whew!

He couldn't tell what color her eyes were in the muted light, but he could tell they were pale. Blue? Green? One or the other. Whatever their color, there was no mistaking how large and expressive they were, or the long, spiky wet lashes surrounding them. His gaze drifted over her pert nose, complete with a dusting of freckles, then settled on her mouth.

The devil himself must have fashioned that wicked mouth because it had sin written all over it. And those two dimples winking on either side of those pouty lips had to be illegal. She stood in front of him, glistening wet, wearing next to nothing… he swallowed in an effort to moisten his dust-dry throat.

"Are you all right, Josh?"

He bobbed his head in a jerky nod.

"Do you still want to take your lesson?"

Lesson? Oh, right. Swimming. He cleared his throat then forced his lips to move. "Yes, ma'am."

"There's no reason to be nervous. I'll be right next to you the entire time." She laid her hand on his arm in what he assumed was meant as a gesture of comfort. Instead it felt as though she'd lit a match to his skin. Had he actually thought he could consider this woman one of the guys? Yup, he sure had, which placed him squarely in the category of "a couple steaks short of a barbecue."

A dozen flirtatious responses sprang to his lips, and he clenched his teeth to contain them. This was supposed to be strictly business, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he'd give in to temptation. No way he'd be able to resist flirting with her. Not when she had all his nerve endings on red alert.

"I promise you'll be perfectly safe," she said with a reassuring smile.

He looked into those big eyes of hers and his stomach dropped a good two feet. Somehow he suspected that safe was the last thing he would be around this woman.

Reaching out, she grabbed his hand, pulling him gently toward the pool. "C'mon. We'll start nice and slow in the shallow end. You'll be swimming in no time."

Heat from where their palms touched radiated up his arm. Shallow end, my ass.

He hadn't so much as dipped his toe in the water, but he had a distinct sinking feeling-which boded particularly bad for the entire swimming scenario-that he was already in way over his head.