"Why not?"
"Because you're standing on my foot."
She looked down and, sure enough, the underwater lights showed that she was indeed standing on his foot. Good grief, he even had good-looking feet. Good-looking, big feet. Darla's smirk rose in her mind's eye. You know what they say about men with big feet, Lexie.
Yup, she knew. And the impressive size of his erection pressing against her left no doubt that the saying was true in Josh's case. The mere thought fired up a sizzle of lust that all but crispy-fried her synapses. Definitely time to get out of the water before she did something in a public place that could lead to an arrest.
She slid her foot from his, then waded purposefully toward the steps. Exiting the warm water, she wrapped her towel around her body, feeling the need to put something between her and this unsettling man who had all but turned her into one big, pulsating hormone. Jeez, her reaction to him bordered on embarrassing. Surely she'd be able to remain more focused, be more able to think and to carry on a conversation, once they were both dressed and there was a table, a couple of beer mugs, and maybe an order of wings between them.
When she turned around, she noted with relief that he'd exited the pool and slipped on his T-shirt. Grabbing up her things, she said, "I'll head over to the employees' locker room to change. See you in the bar in thirty minutes?"
"Wouldn't miss it." His dimple winked at her, and she had to force herself not to lick her lips. Lips that still tingled from the feel of his. But there was no stopping the yum, yum that wafted through her mind.
Sitting in a corner booth, Josh watched Lexie walk into the bar and every one of his nerve endings jumped like a bronc coming out of the chute. She wore a black tank top, a full, fire-engine-red skirt whose hem skimmed her toned legs at mid-thigh, and low-heeled black sandals. Her shiny dark hair curled around her head like a halo. She looked fresh, clean and damn near good enough to eat. And God knows he'd been ready to devour her in the pool. The instant she'd touched her tongue to his lip, she'd set him off like a bottle rocket. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt such intense, instantaneous combustion. Sure, he'd experienced sparks plenty of times before, but nothing like that.
If she hadn't called a halt, he didn't doubt for a second that things in the pool would have quickly burned out of control. This was better, his mind told his protesting body for the dozenth time since he'd exited the pool. Based on her suggestion to meet for drinks and conversation, he clearly sensed that she wanted them to spend some time getting to know each other a bit before they explored where that kiss would lead. Well, that was fine with him. He was definitely interested in finding out more about her, and more than willing to give the lady whatever she wanted and needed.
The lady in question grinned and waved at the bartender, holding up two fingers at him. Then her gaze panned the room. As the bar was half-empty, she spotted him almost immediately, and made her way across the polished wood floor to his table.
Sliding across from him into the booth, she smiled and said, "Hi."
A cloud of some incredible, sexy, flowery fragrance wafted over him, fogging his brain. Thirty minutes. How the hell had she gone from soaking-wet swim teacher to this curly haired, scrumptious-smelling siren in thirty minutes? Good Lord, he knew women who took longer than that just to apply their makeup. He narrowed his eyes at her. It didn't appear she was wearing any makeup, and if she was, it wasn't much. In fact, all he could detect for sure was a hint of gloss on her lips that made them look even more tempting than usual.
Forcing his gaze away from that enticing mouth, their eyes met, and for the first time he could clearly see their color. Hazel. An intriguing mix of amber flecks on a bluish-gray background.
She waved her hand in front of his face, breaking him out of his stupor. "You okay, Josh?"
Nope. Feel like I've just been tossed from the saddle. Recalling that this was supposed to be a conversation/get-to-know-each-other session, he returned her smile. "Yup, just fine. You fix up real nice, Miss Lexie."
"Ha. You're only saying that because this is the first time you've seen me when I haven't looked like someone just dumped a bucket of water over my head."
Before he could assure her that she looked just fine all wet, a pretty redheaded waitress delivered two frosty mugs of beer to the table. "Hey, Lexie," she said with a smile, then she gave him a friendly nod. "Can I bring you two anything to eat?"
Lexie looked at him. "Hungry?"
"Always."
A flicker of awareness glimmered in her eyes. "Any preferences?"
"Anything you choose will be just fine with me."
"Hmm. Any aversion to spicy food?"
"The spicier the better."
"You're not a vegetarian, are you?"
"You're askin' a cowboy that?"
"Right. Dumb question." Turning toward the waitress, she said, "We'll have the extra-large Five-Alarm Platter, Lisa."
"Comin' right up," Lisa said with a jaunty smile, then she turned and headed back toward the bar.
"What's in this Five-Alarm Platter?" he asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table, bringing him closer to her.
"Wings, chili fries, short ribs, quesadillas and cheese-stuffed jalapeños. All spiced up enough to make you breathe fire. Definitely not for the fainthearted. And enough fat grams to give any cardiologist palpitations. Which is why the Five-Alarm is only a once-in-a-while indulgence."
He lifted his beer mug and held it aloft. "Well, in that case, here's to once-in-a-while indulgences."
A hint of color stained her cheeks, charming-and intriguing-him. It had been a long time since he'd seen a woman blush.
"To indulgences," she agreed, clinking her mug against his.
He sucked down a long, icy swallow, then set his glass on the colorful cardboard coaster, resisting the urge to press the cold mug to his forehead. He needed something hot as much as he needed a hole in his head, but he couldn't deny he liked a woman who wasn't afraid to eat something other than a salad. And there was no point denying that he liked this particular woman. Or that she turned him on just by sitting here-hell, she'd turned him on the first time he'd seen her. Or that her kiss had the impact of a horse kick to the head.
Definitely time to get a conversation started-before she thought he was some sort of gawking, tongue-tied, weirdo. Unfortunately he wasn't a great conversationalist on his best day. All those awkward pauses, and wondering what to say next. How was he supposed to carry on a conversation with a gal who all but made him forget his name?
Offering her a half smile, he asked, "How long have you worked here at the resort, Lexie?"
And it was as simple as that. No awkward pauses, no not knowing what to say. The next two hours whizzed by in a blur of laughter, conversation, fiery-spiced food, and a pitcher of ice water to accompany their beer. He couldn't recall the last time he'd enjoyed himself just talking to a woman. When he'd felt so at ease. It had been a long time. Too long.
Yet, for all the being at ease his mind was enjoying, his body was having one hell of a hard time. Literally. Sexual awareness simmered between them until he felt as if he'd been stuffed into a pressure cooker. He saw it in her eyes, felt it tingle through him when their fingers touched passing the ketchup bottle. When her foot brushed his shin as she crossed her legs under the table. He wrapped his fingers around his beer mug to keep from giving in to the overwhelming desire to drag her into his lap and run his hands all over her. But every look, every smile she gave him, pushed him a little closer to the edge.
Over chili fries and wings, he learned that Lexie lived in a small house about five miles from the resort, that she loved animals, and had a cat named Scout who was fond of salmon, popcorn-buttered only-and Doritos-nacho-cheese flavor, please. She also loved baseball and classic movies, hated horror flicks and any story with a sad ending.