Lexie recalled how he'd looked at her, with all that focused attention, then how he'd trailed his finger down her arm. "No, but-"

"Lex, the worst that will happen is that you'll go for drinks and he'll turn out to be a dunce, in which case you won't find him attractive anymore. Best case is that he'll prove charming and nice and irresistible, and you'll have yourself a fun fling for a few weeks." Darla reached out and squeezed Lexie's hands. "It's a win-win situation."

Lexie chewed on her bottom lip and pondered Darla's advice. Josh Maynard had struck a chord in her that hadn't been strummed in a long time. Her self-confidence had definitely taken a wallop from her breakup with Tony, whose growing preference for daredevil escapades over her-not to mention his sudden fondness for being surrounded by hordes of admiring women-had eventually left her feeling unneeded, unwanted and unattractive. Josh was the first guy who'd aroused her flattened libido since. And the beauty of a vacation fling was that in three weeks, Josh would be gone. No running into him around town, no awkward meeting up at local parties. Fun, wild and temporary.

So what harm could there be in inviting him for a drink? It was as good a way as any to find out if he was as attractive as he seemed. Maybe after some conversation she'd decide he wasn't all that great. Or maybe she'd decide he was fling-worthy. One thing was for certain: if she didn't try, she'd never know. And she definitely wanted to know.

"Okay," Lexie said. "I'll ask him out for a drink."

"Good girl," Darla said, beaming her approval. "So what's this hunk's name?"

"Josh Maynard. Even sounds cowboyish."

Darla frowned. "And vaguely familiar." She pursed her lips, then shrugged. "But it can't be. I don't know a soul from Montana. In fact, I've never met a real, live cowboy."

"Me, either." A laugh escaped her. "But it seems like a tame enough occupation. I mean, what do they do around a ranch? Ride horses and check fences? At least he's not a wild daredevil like Tony."

Darla laughed with her. "Really. The worst thing that could happen to Mr. Cowboy is getting saddle sore."

"Hmm. Could be a good excuse to offer him a massage."

A giggle erupted from Dana. "Yee-ha. Now you're talkin', pardner."


* * *

When Josh arrived at the pool the following evening, the first thing he saw was her… the water nymph who had drifted through his nighttime dreams then occupied his thoughts all day long. She cut through the aqua water with strong, clean strokes, then executed an underwater flip turn before starting the next lap. She completed six more pool lengths before she stopped, hoisting herself to the edge while water cascaded down her curvy form.

Another simple, one-piece, no-nonsense swimsuit hugged her body, and Josh smothered a rueful grimace at his swift physical reaction. No doubt about it, she attracted him like a fly to a bug zapper. His inner voice tried to remind him how those poor flies ended up, but he swatted the warning away.

She caught sight of him and stilled. For several heartbeats they simply looked at each other. His pulse seemed to stall, then thump like a bass drum. She licked her lips, a gesture that forced him to swallow a groan, then offered him a smile. "Hi, Josh. How are you?"

Hot and bothered and it's all your fault. Damn, he didn't know if he wanted her to put some clothes on or to take that bathing suit off. Well, he knew which one he wanted… but that didn't mean that it was the smartest. "I'm fine, Lexie. How about you?"

"I'm terrific."

You sure are. He didn't know how many laps she'd swum before he'd arrived, but she wasn't even winded. Water glistened on her well-toned arms and legs, and his already drumming pulse quickened. There was nothing more attractive to him than a physically fit, athletic woman, and this particular woman was… whew. Just right.

"I saw you practicing with the kickboard this morning," she said. "I was impressed-not only by your improvement, but by your dedication. It was barely 7:00 a.m. "

"I'm determined to master swimming as quickly as possible. And once I set my mind to something… well, as we cowboys say, if you're gonna go, go like hell."

"In that case, ready to get started?"

"Yes, ma'am. I place myself in your hands."

He fancied that something flashed in her eyes, but it disappeared before he could decide. Jerking her head in a nod, she turned then walked down the steps into the water. He followed, relieved when the cool water took the edge off his budding ardor.

"Except for your early morning practicing, I didn't see you around today," she remarked once they stood waist-deep. A teasing glint entered her eyes. "We missed you at Make A Basket From Pond Fronds."

He laughed. "I arranged for a rental car, then spent the day visiting marinas to check out sailboats."

"Did you see anything you liked?"

Sure did. And she's smilin' at me right now. "Lots of nice boats, but before I buy one, I want to know how to sail. And before I can tackle that, I need to learn to swim."

"Have you made reservations for the beginner sailing course offered at the resort?"

"Not yet. Are you the teacher?"

"Yes." She shot him a grin. "Don't worry. I'm fully certified."

"Why do you only offer beginner lessons?"

"It's really all that's necessary here at the resort. If a guest wants more in-depth instructions, we make arrangements for them to attend a sailing school in the area. Or, if a guest prefers, they can hire a staff member for private instructions during off-hours."

"Like I hired you for swimming lessons."

"Exactly."

"Are you available for private sailing lessons?"

"Yes, but only early in the morning, weather permitting, before my normal shift starts. For obvious safety reasons, I don't teach sailing at night." She cocked her head to one side. "Let me know if you're interested."

Oh, I'm interested all right. More interested than a hungry hound dog in a pork chop. And he couldn't deny it irked him. Falling in lust had not been on his list of things to do while in Florida. Still, as that was the hand he'd been dealt, and it had taken him all of one restless night and day to realize he couldn't talk himself out of this attraction, he'd simply have to put up his ante, so to speak, and play-keeping his cards close to the vest, of course.

"Before we begin anything new," she said, "let's spend a few minutes warming up by reviewing what we did last evening." He agreed, then spent the next quarter hour kicking along with the board and breathing.

"Great job, Josh," she said. "You're ready to graduate to floating."

Josh watched her demonstrate lying on her back, as if she were stretched out in a comfortable bed, her arms moving gently back and forth. She closed her eyes and looked for all the world as if she were taking a nap. Sort of like a wet, floating Sleeping Beauty. Her short, dark hair surrounded her head like an undulating halo, and he barely resisted the urge to sift his fingers through the tempting strands. His gaze rested on her full lips and his imagination immediately ran amok, casting him in the role of Prince Charming. Would those gorgeous lips taste as delicious as they looked?

"The keys are relaxation and balance," she said in a soft, soothing voice that thankfully yanked him back to reality. She floated with seemingly effortless grace. "You'll be right next to the edge, so if you feel yourself tipping, just reach out your hand. Like this." She reached out, but instead of touching the edge of the pool, her fingers slid across his belly.

He hissed in a breath and her eyes popped open, clearly realizing she'd made contact with him, not the concrete edge. With a splash, she stood, and emitted a shaky-sounding laugh. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." Nope, none at all. Except that that single inadvertent brush of her hand made him feel as if a firecracker sizzled in his swim trunks. He dragged his hands through his wet hair. Maybe he should have taken these swim lessons in Antarctica. With a male instructor.

"Once you get the hang of this in the pool," she said, "it will be even easier in the ocean where the saltwater has more buoyancy. Unless, of course, the water is rough, but the forecast is calling for calm seas for the next few days. Lots of sunshine and little wind. Not great for sailing, but perfect for swimming. Now, just lie on your back and let the water support you. I'll help you get started."

Josh did as she bid, and was doing a darn good job of it. Or at least he was until she "helped him get started." He'd gotten himself almost supine when she slid her hands under him, one supporting his shoulders, the other the small of his back.

"Good. Now just relax, Josh," she said in a soft, smoky voice.

Relax? With her hands on him, feeling like liquid silk against his skin? With his face not six inches from her full breasts? With her looking at him with those wide, incredible eyes? Not much chance of that.

To his embarrassment, he started floundering like a fish on a hook, his arms and legs flailing. Certainly no one who saw him now would ever believe that he possessed an innate, nearly flawless sense of balance that had enabled him to win four consecutive world rodeo championships.

"Take it easy," she said. "Close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths. Hold on to the side with one hand and let yourself go limp. I've got you."

Limp. Yeah, right. Definitely not much chance of that. He snapped his eyes shut, grabbed the concrete edge of the pool, and forced himself to relax, one tense muscle at a time-a feat much easier to accomplish now that he wasn't looking at her, and easier still once he pretended she was an old man. With one tooth. And a grizzled beard.

But then her velvety-soft voice flowed over him once more. "Much better, Josh."

His eyes popped open and he found himself staring up into her lovely face, which hovered so tantalizingly close… so close he had only to reach up to tangle his fingers in her wet hair and pull her mouth down to his…

The flailing and splashing started all over again. If she'd let go of him, he'd have sunk like a millstone, arms and legs waving like a flag in a gale storm. Of course, if she hadn't been holding him, touching him in the first place, he wouldn't have been flopping around in such an undignified way. Damn it, it was downright humiliating that he couldn't master such a simple task. Not to mention aggravating. It left him feeling vulnerable in a way he couldn't recall ever before experiencing. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut once again, pulled together all his concentration, and forced himself to relax.

"Good," she said. "Now, I'm going to move, to stand behind you, by your head, and support your shoulders. Don't worry about sinking below the surface. I promise I won't let you. What I want you to do is to move your arms and legs slowly in the water, like you're making a snow angel. I bet you made a lot of those in Montana."

He kept his eyes firmly closed. "Sure did."

"Then you'll be an expert floater in no time. Just pretend you're lying in a pile of snow. Remember, relax, and balance. You don't have to let go of the side until you feel ready. There's no rush. I'm going to move now, so start making that angel."

Her arm slipped from beneath the small of his back. Focusing on the task for all he was worth, he followed her instructions, conjuring up a mental image of himself as a child, tossing his body into a snowdrift with youthful abandon to create white, frosty angels. That's it, old boy. Think snow. Ice. Relax and balance. As long as he kept his mind on the task at hand instead of on her, he'd be fine.

He moved his limbs slowly back and forth in the water, and the more he felt the tension ease from his shoulders, the more buoyant he became. Still, he'd best not relinquish his hold on the side yet.

"Tell me about your home, Josh," he heard her say, though she sounded muffled as his ears were under water. "What's it like in Manhattan, Montana?"

He grasped the opportunity to keep his thoughts away from her like a drowning man seizes a life ring, although he wryly admitted to himself that that was not a good analogy under the present circumstances.

" Manhattan is beautiful. Peaceful." One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "They don't call Montana 'Big Sky Country' for nothing. The sky is so blue it can make your eyes hurt to look at it. The air is crisp and clean, and the mountains look close enough to reach out and touch. Manhattan 's rural, lots of wide-open spaces, but the town itself has everything anyone could need-movie theater, restaurants, lots of businesses and shops and such."