"I always rewrite the sad ending in my head so it's not sad anymore," she said, nibbling on a chili fry.
Watching those gorgeous lips wrap around that fry raised his temperature a good ten degrees. Feeling as if he'd burst if didn't touch her, he reached out and gently tugged on one of her chin-length, riotous curls. The soft, silky strands slid between his fingers.
"Happy endings, huh?" he murmured. "So at the end of Gone With the Wind…?"
It took her several seconds to answer, a fact that pleased him. Clearly she found his touch distracting. Good. Because for the past two hours she'd distracted the hell out of him.
Finally she said, "Um, Scarlett gets her man."
He continued to play with her hair. "And West Side Story?"
"Ah, Maria gets Tony-who, of course, doesn't die."
"What about Hamlet?"
"In my version, Ophelia-who, of course doesn't die-gets Hamlet-who-"
"Of course doesn't die. I'm beginning to see a pattern." He tucked several curls behind her ear, then slowly traced her jawline with a single fingertip.
She swallowed. Hard. "So, um, do all cowboys read stuff like Hamlet?"
"They do if it's a college course requirement."
"I remember you wore a University of Montana T-shirt the other night. Is that where you went?"
"It is." Clearly she still wanted to chat. That was fine-he liked talking to her. But no law said he had to continue making it easy for her. His finger resumed its leisurely path across her chin. "Managed to graduate, even in spite of Hamlet."
"What is your degree in?"
"Chemical engineering."
She blinked twice. "You, uh, get to make much use of that expertise on the ranch?"
He laughed. "Hardly ever. Although after graduation I worked for a year at a research lab on a project geared toward developing alternate energy sources."
Her brows hiked upward, and he skimmed his fingertip over the arches, then down her smooth cheek.
"Mmm, why did you work in the field for only a year?"
"Turned out I'm not much of a nine-to-five guy. I enjoyed the challenge of research, but after a while I found being cooped up in the lab too confining."
"Office work isn't my cup of tea, either. I love being outdoors too much." She shifted slightly in her seat and her eyes drifted half-closed. "That feels… nice."
"Good." He moved his explorations lower, over her throat, to dip into the vulnerable hollow of her collarbone. Enjoying her quick intake of breath, he said, "Actually, the main reason I went to college was because my mom always wanted me to. She'd drummed the importance of education into me as early as I could remember. By the time I was in high school, I realized I wanted to go to college, wanted to try something other than bein' a cowboy. I did love the challenge and broadening my horizons, and it's nice to have a degree to fall back on, but being a cowboy is in my blood."
"That's very distracting, you know."
"What-me bein' a cowboy?"
"The way that you're touching me."
He studied her for several seconds, absorbing the delicate shiver vibrating beneath his cruising fingertips. He liked the way her skin looked next to his. Liked the soft feel of her skin under the glide of his thumb.
"Do you want me to stop?"
She shook her head. "No. I want you to tell me why a chemical engineer cowboy wants to buy a sailboat."
Taking her hands, he turned them palms upward, and while lightly caressing the pale blue crisscross of veins on her wrists, he told her. All about his dad, and the dream they'd shared to someday sail around the Mediterranean together, and how that dream was cut short by his father's death.
"So I'm going to do it myself," he concluded. "For me, and for my dad. It won't be the same without him, but I know he'll be up in heaven cheering me on."
She entwined her fingers with his and gently squeezed. "You really loved him."
"I did. He was a great man. If I manage to be half the man he was, I'll consider that I've done real well."
An expression he couldn't decipher flickered in her eyes. "You realize that attempting such a voyage is dangerous, even for an experienced sailor."
"And that's why I'm here. To gain the experience I need."
"You'll require more knowledge than you can cram into a few weeks, Josh."
"Maybe. But I have to start somewhere. And you're just the gal to teach me everything I need to know."
Her gaze flicked down to where his thumbs drew slow circles on her palms. "I suspect that you already know plenty."
He pulled their entwined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I know what I want."
Heat, mixed with a wicked gleam, kindled in her eyes. "Do you want to know what I want?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
She leaned forward, pulling their joined hands toward her mouth. "I want to play a game. Do you like games?" she whispered against his fingers.
"I do. What kind of game did you have in mind?"
"It's called 'now it's my turn.' Would you like to know how I ended up working here at the Whispering Palms?"
"Darlin', I want to hear anything you want to tell me."
Pure deviltry stared back at him, and she began caressing his fingers, one by one, gently stroking their length. Her action was so blatantly sexual, she might as well have been stroking his penis. 'Cause for damn sure his body's reaction was the same.
"I landed here by way of almost a dozen air force bases all around the country," she said, and it took all his concentration to focus on her words. "My father was a career man, so every couple of years, phffft!-" she snapped her fingers "-we moved. The older I got, the more I hated being uprooted. Of all the places Dad was stationed, Florida was my favorite. I love the outdoors, the weather, the beach-all of it."
She paused, and with her eyes steady on his, she brought his palm to her lips. He held his breath, anticipating the feel of her lips against his skin. Instead she touched her tongue to his palm, forcing a moan from him.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Hell, no."
He could actually feel his eyes glaze over as she continued her story, all the while alternately kissing, nibbling and flicking her tongue over his fingers.
"I attended the University of Miami and earned my teaching degree. But after three years teaching elementary school, I accepted the job here." With her gaze locked on his, she sucked the tip of his index finger into the heat of her mouth, damn near stopping his heart. He endured her tongue circling his fingertip until he thought he'd explode, then he slipped his finger from her mouth and skimmed it over her bottom lip.
"Working at the resort is perfect," she said, her soft lips brushing against his finger with each word, "because I can combine teaching, which I love, with the outdoors and sports."
"Is your dad still in the air force?"
"No. He retired three years ago. He and Mom 'live'-" she made air quotes with her fingers "-in Maryland, but they're rarely home. They bought an RV and spend most of their time traveling around the country. This week they're in Arizona."
"Sounds like fun."
"They enjoy their nomadic lifestyle. Me, I've done enough wandering around to last me a lifetime."
She settled his hands palms up on the table, splayed his fingers, then proceeded to slowly trace her fingertips over calloused skin that he'd never known was so sensitive.
Silence fell between them, which was just as well because her "now it's my turn" game had shot his ability to make chitchat all to hell. Unable to endure the sweet torture she was inflicting on his palms any longer, he captured her hand and raised it to his mouth, pressing a heated kiss to the flower-scented inside of her wrist. Her lips parted and he absorbed the quickening of her pulse against his lips.