In Over His Head

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.

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.'