With the midmorning sun warming her back and the calm, clear turquoise water glistening with bright shafts of sunlight, Lexie stood on the resort dock, waiting for her next group of snorkelers to arrive. After double-checking that the gear was all ready, she sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled in what could only be described as a contented sigh.
The three days since she'd burned Josh his chocolate-chip cookies had whizzed by in a blur of happiness. Thanks to the exceptional weather, she and Josh continued their lessons by sailing the resort's sixteen-foot sailboat each morning for an hour before her shift began. He was learning fast, which didn't surprise her one bit. She could easily see him excelling at anything he set his mind to.
During the day, while she worked, Josh spent his time swimming and driving around to look at sailboats and sailing schools. She occasionally saw him in the afternoons, at the pool or on the beach, sometimes alone, sometimes chatting with other guests or entertaining a child. Several times she noted him challenging other pool swimmers to a race. He might not ride in the rodeo any longer, but his competitive spirit was clearly still alive and kicking. When he saw her he'd wave and wink, or blow her a kiss as she led a group snorkeling or to the dock for a scuba excursion. She'd wave back, knowing that in a matter of only a few hours, she'd be with him again.
They'd spent each evening together, once going out for dinner, twice cooking at her house. He taught her the finer points of "cowboy cuisine," such as to how to grill a steak and ribs, and she taught him how to burn toast and scorch pizza. He taught her how to make s'mores on the grill, and she taught him some really interesting uses for melted chocolate.
Josh bought her a beautiful cowboy hat, which she felt sort of odd wearing until she realized how much it turned him on-especially when she wore it and nothing else. Last night, after dinner, he'd taken her to the movies, but when he'd offered to see a chick flick no less, her eyes had narrowed with suspicion.
"Okay, what's wrong with you?" she'd asked.
"Nothing," he'd said, his face a mask of innocence.
She'd remained unconvinced-he couldn't be that perfect-and was soon proved right when she realized that it wouldn't have mattered what movie he'd taken her to since they sat in the last row and Josh wouldn't keep his hands or his lips to himself. She missed most of the show-not that she was complaining…
And the nights… magical, passionate nights spent in Josh's arms. Endless hours indulging in sensual exploration, learning, touching, talking, laughing.
A long sigh escaped her. She'd never, not even with Tony, felt like this. Had never imagined she could feel like this. She loved being with Josh. Loved seeing him smile and hearing him laugh. Loved watching his eyes twinkle with mischief, then darken with arousal. Loved seeing him interact with the fans-especially the children-who invariably found him at either the resort or the several restaurants they'd ventured out to. In fact, she loved everything about him.
She loved him.
The realization slammed into her like diving into the water and landing with a belly flop. This wasn't just physical attraction or infatuation. She was in love with Josh.
She stood on the dock, staring at the water, and rubbed her hand over the spot where her heart beat hard and fast.
Surely the realization should panic her. At the very least, distress and worry her, but instead only exhilaration rushed though her.
She shook her head. She must be losing her mind. She should not be happy about this. She was not supposed to fall in love with a fling, with her transition man. All the reasons they were wrong for each other flashed in her mind. He was temporary. A daredevil. Lived thousands of miles away.
But her heart bulldozed the reasons aside, visualizing the house she wanted to build on the peaceful cove she coveted-and right smack in the middle of her house stood Josh, smiling, arms open, waiting for her. She wanted him there, in her house, with her, sharing her life.
Closing her eyes, the words I love Josh washed over her like a warm rain. She loved him. Completely.
But what do to about it? They hadn't discussed the future, or the fact that he was scheduled to leave the resort in less than two weeks. It seemed that by some unspoken mutual agreement, they'd avoided the subject, but his rapidly approaching departure sat between them like a scowling Victorian chaperone.
Their time together was slipping away, yet how could she allow their relationship to simply end in a matter of days? She couldn't. But it wasn't just a matter of what she wanted. What did Josh want? Did he care for her as she cared for him? There was no doubt he enjoyed her physically-did his feelings run deeper than that? That night at the Blue Flamingo he'd hinted as much, but he hadn't broached the subject again.
Well, there was only one way to find out. Ask him. Ask how he felt. Ask if he wanted to try to figure out a way to make this work. Because the thought of him just leaving, of this being over, simply did not compute.
Perhaps this very subject was what he wanted to discuss with her? He'd left the resort at 10:00 a.m. to drive to Miami to meet with his business manager and several corporate sponsors. She'd walked him to his car and before driving off, he'd said, "Let's have dinner at your place tonight so we can talk."
Well, she was ready to talk. Ready to lay her cards on the table and tell him how she felt. Ready to hear him say he felt the same way. Ready to figure out a way for them to be together. Ready to work out a compromise so that could happen.
She could only pray he was ready to do the same.
Josh stood on Lexie's porch and took a deep, calming breath. Damn, he felt as nervous as a mouse wearing catnip perfume. Settle down. Everything's going to be fine.
But his mental pep talk did nothing to soothe his jangled nerves. Everything he wanted was inside this cozy house. And he was determined to have it. He just hoped the lady would agree.
If he'd been capable of laughter, he would have chuckled at himself. Even when facing the most ornery of bulls, he'd never felt this unsure or frightened. Well, he'd faced those bulls down. How much trouble could one small woman be?
Setting his jaw, he knocked. Seconds later Lexie opened the door, wearing a sultry smile.
And nothing else.
He actually felt his eyes bug out of his head. Good damn thing his jaw was attached to his head or else it would have hit the ground.
Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. Leaning back against the oak panel, she waggled her brows at him.
"Hiya, handsome."
He cleared his throat to locate his missing voice. "You're naked."
"Now that's what I like about you. Your superior powers of observation. Must come with the chemical engineer territory. But in this case you're wrong. I'm wearing cologne."
He shifted to relieve the strangulation occurring in the front of his jeans. "What if I'd been the mailman?"
"I knew it was you. I saw your car in the driveway." She erased the several feet between them with a sinful sway of her hips. When she stood directly in front of him, she walked her fingers up the front of his shirt, then pressed herself against him.
"Anytime you'd like to set down those grocery bags and give me a proper hello would be fine with me," she whispered against his neck.
The bags hit the tile. With a groan, he crushed her against him, fusing his lips to hers in a hot kiss that left them both breathless.
"I missed you all day," she whispered against his mouth while her fingers yanked open his shirt snaps. "Wanna know how much?"
"Yeah." The single word came out as a groan when she rubbed her breasts against his bared chest.
She turned them in a circle, until his back pressed against the door. His heart pounding, ragged breaths burning his lungs, he watched her sink to her knees. Slipping the button free on his jeans, she carefully eased down his zipper. He sucked in a breath of relief at the removal of the tight denim constricting him-a breath that was sharply cut off when she freed his erection and took him slowly into her mouth.
A long groan vibrated in his throat. Tunneling his fingers through her soft hair, he watched her pleasure him, absorbing the erotic sight of her lips gliding over him, the incredible feel of her tongue circling him.
His head dropped back, bumping against the door. It was too much, yet not enough. He couldn't take any more, yet his body craved, demanded more. More of her. Wrapped around him. Skin to skin. With a growl, he pulled her up, then turned her so she stood with her back braced against the door.
Quickly rolling on the condom from his back pocket, he cupped her buttocks in his palms and lifted her. She clasped her legs tightly around his hips and he slid into her wet heat. Sweat broke out on his brow and he gritted his teeth against the pleasure, wanting to sustain it, knowing he was helpless to do so.
"Do you suppose," she panted, her face flushed, eyes dark with need, "that someday you'll come over and we'll actually make it to the bedroom?"
"Not much chance of it if you open the door naked, sweetheart." He slid nearly all the way out, then glided deep, eliciting a purr of pleasure from her.
His orgasm was fast approaching, cutting off his ability to speak. He increased his tempo, reading her body with a knowledge born of many hours spent in sensual exploration. Seconds later she tightened around him and he let himself go, his release shuddering through him with a ferocity that left him barely able to remain standing.
A good minute passed before any sound save their choppy breathing filled the air. Finally he lifted his head from her fragrant neck and looked at her.
Her hair lay in frantic disarray, looking as if she'd been struck by lightning. Her skin glowed from the exertions of their lovemaking and her full lips were moist and slightly parted. Her eyes slid open and he found himself looking into slumberous hazel depths that sent a jolt straight to his heart.
A grin lifted one corner of her mouth. "I definitely think I should put a sofa in this foyer."
"Might be a good idea. Probably should think about one in the kitchen, too." He glanced down at the bags on the floor. "I think the eggs broke."
"What did you need them for?"
"I was hoping for an invite for breakfast."
"You're invited. And don't worry about the eggs." She shot him an exaggerated leer. "I'll have 'Josh over easy' for breakfast."
"Honey, you've already got 'Josh scrambled.' Seeing you open the door like this-" his hinds gently squeezed her bare butt "-I don't know if I'm comin' or goin'."
"Hmm. Well, tell you what. You feed us, then we'll 'go' to bed and I'll show you all about 'coming.'"
"Sounds like a plan. And I can vouch that you give good lessons, Miss Lexie."
She ran her finger over his bottom lip and adopted a prim, schoolmarmish expression that would have proved more convincing had she not been naked and still wrapped around his hips. "Of course I give good lessons. I am a teacher."
"That's perfect. 'Cause I'm more than willing to learn."
Lexie watched Josh all through dinner, and as the meal progressed, it became increasingly obvious that something was troubling him. He picked at his food and was uncharacteristically quiet. He caught the conversational ball when she tossed it, but he wasn't throwing out any first pitches. She knew he planned to talk to her about something-and she'd hoped that that something was good news. Good news about their future. Good news about a way they could work things out and be together. But his silence and the way he avoided her eyes made those hopes die a slow, withering death. A knot formed in her stomach, growing until she couldn't force down another bite. Finally she set down her fork.
"Josh, what's wrong?"
He looked up and met her gaze with a troubled expression, a fact that edged further unease down her spine.
"Nothing's wrong," he said. Setting aside his napkin, he added, "But we definitely need to talk."
Her stomach executed a maneuver that would have impressed even the most finicky of Olympic judges. Not just we need to talk but we DEFINITELY need to talk. The addition of that adverb did not bode well at all.
Forcing a lightness into her voice she was far from feeling, she said, "I'm listening."
"We've sort of avoided the subject, but we both know I'm scheduled to leave here soon. And… I've got to go."
Another stomach triple somersault. "Back to Manhattan."
He hesitated. "Not exactly. Although I will have to go there." Reaching across the table, he clasped her hands. She forced herself not to avert her gaze from the bad news she clearly read in his expression. Whatever he was about to say, she wasn't going to like it. Knew it wasn't we're going to be together.
"I've accepted an invitation to take part in a rodeo next month."
Nope. That definitely wasn't We're going to be together. Damn it, she hated it when she was right. His statement reverberated through her mind, the ramifications striking her like openhanded slaps. She swallowed to wet her throat and dislodge the lump that had settled there.
"You're coming out of retirement." Was that flat, lifeless voice hers? Yup, sure was. And here she sat, with the Michael Jordan of rodeo. Numbness crept into her limbs. How many times had Mike unretired himself now? Two? Three?
"Yes, I'm coming out of retirement." And then, for a man who had remained mostly silent since she'd greeted him at the door wearing nothing other than cologne, Josh turned into a regular chatterbox, talking in excited tones about an international rodeo event in Monaco, and how this was his big chance to best the man to whom he'd come in second place during his final competition.
Lexie listened with half an ear, absorbing enough of the details to know what was going on, but not really interested in much past the fact that he was going back to the rodeo. To the danger. To a lifestyle where he was a celebrity-and all the trappings that came with that. But mostly to the danger. And by God, he looked so happy about it! His eyes practically glowed when he spoke about having another shot at beating this Wes Handly.
"And what makes this even better news," Josh said, squeezing her hands, "is that Monaco is on the Mediterranean. While I'm there, I can take my sail."
She could only stare. "Better news?" she echoed once she located her voice. "How is that better? So maybe you'll drown instead of getting stomped to death by a bull?" Stark fear, mixed with a dose of anger, seeped into her veins, taking the place of the numbness that had invaded her. "Josh, you are nowhere near ready to sail the Mediterranean."
"You're right." Before relief could set in that he at least realized that, he added, "So come with me. Help me sail. Enjoy the rodeo. Think what a great time we'd have together. It would be like a vacation."
Her entire body went cold. For a few seconds she couldn't even take air into her lungs. It was as if all the oxygen had left the room. But then a sense of frigid calm settled over her. She eased her hands from his and looked him straight in the eye.
"Vacation? Great time? Exactly what part of it would be great? Traveling? As you well know, I have no desire to travel. Watching you risk your life riding in the rodeo? The mere thought of it scares me to death and makes me feel ill. Risking my life as well as yours sailing the Mediterranean? I know how to sail, but I'm not expert enough to consider such an undertaking, especially with an inexperienced crewmate."
"Lexie, I-"
"I knew it," she said, shaking her head. "I must have been out of my mind to get involved with you. How stupid could I have been to believe for even a millisecond that you'd stay retired? Wouldn't constantly crave danger and thrills? Once an adrenaline junkie, always an adrenaline junkie." She narrowed her eyes at him. "When exactly did you make this idiotic decision?"
Annoyance flared in his eyes. "It isn't idiotic-"
"We're going to have to agree to disagree on that one. When?"
A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Three days ago."
Three days ago. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Or to scream. "And you're just getting around to mentioning it now." A humorless laugh escaped her. "Why did you bother to tell me at all? Oh, let me guess! You knew how I'd react, and you didn't want to do anything that would upset the sexual applecart before it was absolutely necessary. Makes me wonder why you didn't just wait a few more days-toss out the info on your way to the airport."
He jumped to his feet. Slapping his palms on the table, he leaned over her, his eyes flashing with a combination of anger and frustration. "Damn it, Lexie, that's not fair. I didn't tell you until now because the plans weren't firmly set until today's meeting. There was no point in worrying you about it until I'd signed the contracts and it was a done deal."
She looked up at him. Was it possible to actually feel your heart breaking? "You're absolutely right. There was no reason for you to discuss any of your future plans with me."
"There's every reason. I just didn't want something that might not have even happened to come between us-"
"Before it was absolutely necessary," she finished for him.
He straightened, then raked his hands through his hair. "Yes. But when you say it like that it makes it sound dishonest, and I wasn't being dishonest."
"Of course not. You were simply withholding the truth to protect me. To spare my feelings and to keep me from worrying."
His expression turned wary. "Somehow this is starting to sound like one of those 'does this dress make my ass look fat' girl-trap things."
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Not at all. You were being honorable."
"I was trying to be, yes."
"And of course, you didn't want our fling to end any sooner than it had to."
Grasping her upper arms, he pulled her to her feet. "This is not a fling," he said through clenched teeth.
"Not anymore," she agreed. "This fling is officially flung." She pulled in a deep breath, not sure how much longer she was going to be able to hang on to her anger and not crumple like a house of cards in a windstorm. "Look, Josh, we had some good times, but we both knew this was temporary, that anything long-term was impossible."
"It is not impossible. We can-"
"No. We can't. Nothing has changed. We live thousands of miles apart. You have responsibilities in Montana, and my life is here. And even if, by some miracle, we could solve the geographic problems, I cannot live with this decision you've made. There will always be another rodeo, another reason to come out of retirement and risk your life. Or if it's not a bucking bull, then some other dangerous enterprise like sailing the seas will tempt you."
His serious dark eyes still simmered with annoyance. "I can't deny that the rodeo is dangerous, but your job isn't exactly danger-free, either."
An incredulous sound gurgled in her throat. Before she could utter a word, he plunged on, "Don't you think there are dangers associated with what you do? People are injured water-skiing and on those Jet-Ski things all the time. And parasailing? You don't think there's an element of danger in that? And even experienced swimmers can drown in rough water or get caught in an undertow. How about scuba diving? You could run out of air, or get attacked by all those dangerous things in the ocean-like sharks."
She resisted the urge to look heavenward. "This is Florida. There are 'things' in the ocean, including sharks."
"Exactly. And like Brahman bulls, sharks are dangerous. Can't be controlled. Can't anticipate them. Maybe they don't seem so bad to you because you're used to them. But for a cowboy from Montana, sharks are damn dangerous. Sure, a bull might break your leg, but he won't bite it off."
She shook her head. "It's not the same."
"It is the same." He gently squeezed her shoulders. "Every time I see you going off in that boat for a scuba excursion, my gut gets tight. But I wouldn't ask you not to do it."
"And I haven't asked you not to enter this rodeo or forgo your sail. You made the decision you needed to make. I understand that. You've asked me to go with you and be a part of that decision. I can't."
"You're afraid." The gentle understanding in his voice nearly undid her.
"Josh. You could so easily be hurt. Maimed. Killed. And for what? All I know is that the last man I loved couldn't stop seeking higher thrills, and his success changed him. I lost the sweet guy I fell for to a lifestyle filled with travel, danger, hangers-on and groupies. You ask me if I'm afraid? No. I'm terrified. Of what coming out of retirement could do to you. And of what going through that again would do to me."
All vestiges of annoyance drained from his eyes. "Lexie. I'm not some green kid goin' on the circuit for the first time. I'm beyond all that. I've already sowed my oats. My head's not about to be turned by some groupie. And I swear to you, on my honor, that this is the last time I'll come out of retirement. I won't-"
She pressed her fingers to his lips, cutting off his words. "Please don't make promises you might regret later. I'm not asking for them. I don't want them. But I've already been through this with Tony. I cannot, will not, go through it again."
"I'm not Tony."
"Different man, same placing-myself-in-danger situation. I refuse to again put myself through the horrors of waiting for the call from the hospital that you're hurt. Or worse."
"That's not going to happen."
"You don't know that. And it's not a chance I'm willing to take."
He dragged his hands down his face. "Lexie, I could get hurt walking across the street."
"True. But you cannot deny that the odds of injury increase substantially when bucking bulls are tossed into the mix."
"You're asking me to choose."
"No, I'm not. I'm bowing out."
He studied her through troubled eyes. "Lexie, this rodeo and sailing are things that I have to do. To have peace with myself. They'll be finished in a few weeks. You and I will have all the time in the world after that."
"No, we won't. We're out of time." She moved around to put the kitchen table between them, then glanced down at the cold remains of her half-eaten dinner. A shudder ran through her. Was it less than an hour ago that they'd sat down to this meal? Just over an hour ago that they'd made love in the foyer?
"I understand your concern," he said in a quiet voice, "but why can't you trust me? I'm doing the right thing."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Yes, you are. For you. And that's fine. I just don't want to be involved with it in any way. You have every right to do what you think is best. And I have every right to be afraid and unwilling to risk myself again."
"We can work this out, Lexie. More than anything, I want to be with you." He reached her in two quick strides, then clasped her shoulders and gently shook her.
She stared at him and pretended her heart was still beating. He wanted to be with her-but not more than he wanted to ride in the rodeo. Shaking her head, she blinked back the hot tears welling in her eyes. "Don't say that."
"Why not? It's true." His eyes searched hers. "The question is, do you want to be with me?"
Looking into his eyes, she swore she heard her heart splatter onto the floor. "It doesn't matter. There's no future for us."
"There could be if-"
"If I was able to accept your decision regarding this dangerous rodeo and taking your sail before you're prepared, which I'm not. If I was capable of setting aside my fears, which I clearly am not. If I was willing to risk my heart and happiness and future on another man who could very well destroy all three-and I'm not."
"You're scared. I understand, but-"
"I'm more than scared. More than terrified. I'm adamant. I can not, will not, do this again. Never again."
His face paled. He slowly released her shoulders, a muscle jerking in his jaw, his eyes clouding over with anguish. Before he could say anything else, something that might threaten her resolve, she wiped her face clean of expression and raised her chin. "I want you to leave."
The most deafening silence she'd ever heard filled the room. His eyes seemed to burn into hers and she spent those silent seconds memorizing his face feature by feature, yet knowing he was already permanently emblazoned in her memory. She wanted, needed, him to go. Now. Before the pain bubbling inside her exploded.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than a minute, she repeated, "I want you to leave, Josh. Now. Do you understand?"
His lips flattened into a hard line. "You've left precious little room for misinterpretation." He dragged his hands down his face, then shook his head. "I don't know how to say goodbye to you."
"Then don't say it. Just go. Please." Her voice broke on the last word, and she fisted her hands in an effort to keep herself together.
He stared at her for another few seconds, his throat working. Then he walked swiftly from the room, the sounds of his boot heels hitting the ceramic tile echoing through the house. She listened to the front door close with a quiet click. Seconds later she heard his car backing out of the driveway. And then silence.
He was gone. Completely. Irrevocably. Forever.
Her knees went limp and she sank into her chair. Nothing. She felt nothing. The place where her heart used to beat in her chest felt anesthetized. Indeed, her entire body felt as if it had taken a direct hit of Novocain.
Something wet landed on her arm, and as if in a trance, she looked down. A drop of water. As she stared at the spot, another drop fell. Then another. Tears.
A sob rose in her throat, accompanied by a blinding rush of heartache that bordered on physical pain, and she wished for the oblivion of her previous numbness. Because he was gone. And nothing had ever hurt this much.