"Yes, ma'am. I just checked in, and I'm ready and eager to get started. And please call me Josh."
She couldn't recall the last time someone over the age of twelve had called her "ma'am." "Which classes were you interested in taking, Josh?"
"All of them."
"All of them? We offer nearly two dozen." She smiled up at him. "That won't leave you much vacation time for relaxing."
"I'm not here to vacation. I'm here to learn."
"I see." Her lips twitched. "In that case, I'll be sure to sign you up for the Make A Basket From Palm Fronds craft session."
A frown formed between his brows and he settled his hands on his hips, dragging Lexie's gaze involuntarily downward. His long fingers spread out across his hips, pointing like arrows toward his groin. She cleared her throat and instantly jerked her attention upward. Good grief, she was turning into a pervert. Anyone would think she was a sex-starved nympho who'd never seen an attractive, hunky cowboy with a killer dimple.
You are sex-starved, her inner voice taunted. And you never have seen such an attractive, hunky cowboy, let alone one with a killer dimple.
Hmm. Well, at least she wasn't a nympho. Probably. And just because it had now been eleven months, three weeks and five days since she'd had sex, that didn't mean she was starved. Heck no. She was merely a bit… peckish. Darla's words flitted through her mind. You are primed…
"I reckon the palm frond basket-making is one I can skip," he said, yanking her attention back to the conversation. "What I need to learn is how to sail."
She noted he said need as opposed to want. "We offer beginner lessons here at the resort, and I can recommend several excellent sailing schools in the area for more advanced lessons. Do you have any sailing experience?"
"No, ma'am. But I'm a quick learner, and I've read up on the subject. What I need is practical, hands-on instruction." He looked around, as if trying to see if anyone was listening to them. Then he stepped closer, leaning toward her. Warmth that had nothing to do with the bright sun enveloped her, along with his scent-a combination of freshly laundered clothing and some sort of woodsy musk that tapped her hormones on the shoulders and proclaimed, "Boy, does he smell good." She firmly told her hormones to sit down and shut up. Sheesh! She'd taken one look at this guy and lost her marbles. He was probably married with three kids. Or engaged. She glanced down. No ring. But that didn't prove anything.
Lowering his voice he said, "The problem is, Miss Webster-"
"Lexie."
"-yes, ma'am, is that before I learn to sail, I need some more-" he cast another quick look around "-basic type of instructions."
"In what area?"
"I'm, uh, well… this is embarrassing to admit, but I'm not a real good swimmer."
Understanding dawned, and sympathy tugged at her. Had he suffered some childhood water-related trauma? Such was often the case when adults couldn't swim. "I see. Well, that's not a problem, Josh, nor should you be embarrassed. I've taught many adults how to swim. We offer classes twice a week-"
"I need more than twice a week, and to be honest, I'd prefer not to take lessons with other folks around-at least not until I develop some proficiency."
"So you want private lessons?"
"Yes, ma'am. I shouldn't need too many. My coordination and strength are good. What I don't have is experience." He laid his hand over his heart and dipped his chin, looking at her with soulful puppy-dog eyes. "Please say you're available to help me. You'd be the answer to my prayers."
Yikes. Was there a woman currently breathing who could resist that look? That heartfelt plea? If so, God bless her.
Lexie quickly mulled over his offer, and just as quickly decided to accept. With the extra cash she could earn teaching Mr. Cowboy, especially now that the tourist season was approaching a lull, he could be the answer to her prayers, as well.
She quoted her hourly rate and he agreed without batting an eye. "When do we start?" he asked, casting an askance glance at the crowded pool.
"The pool is open twenty-four hours, but it's normally unoccupied in the evenings. Why don't we meet here tonight at nine?"
"Nine sounds great. Thank you."
"You're welcome." She glanced down at her watch and realized her lunch break was over. "I have a snorkeling session now, but I'll see you this evening."
He touched his hat and nodded. "I'm looking forward to it, ma'am."
Josh watched her zigzag expertly around the lounge chairs on her way toward the beach. His gaze traveled down her back, noting the smooth muscles in her golden-tanned thighs and calves. She was fairly small and compact, but very nicely put together. Between her dark sunglasses and baseball cap, he hadn't been able to see much of her face or hair, but she had a beautiful, friendly smile. And great lips.
A bunch of his buddies were leg men, and some were breast men, some a combination of both, and most possessed an appreciation of the female posterior, as well. While Josh easily admired all those feminine attributes, he was definitely what he'd term a lip man. And Lexie Webster possessed just the sort of well-shaped, full, moist-looking mouth that made him groan.
And by damn, her legs, breasts and posterior were fine-looking, too. And she smelled like one of those long, cool, tropical drinks. The kind that made you want to take a nice big… lick.
To top it all off, he especially liked the fact that she had no idea who he was. Yeah, she'd given him the once-over, but clearly his name and face didn't ring any bells with her, which suited him just fine. A lot of the women who followed the rodeo circuit made big plays for him and, while the attention had been flattering at first, he'd eventually reached the point where he didn't know if a woman liked him for himself or because of his championship titles. He hated to be cynical, but there was no denying that the more competitions he'd won, the more attractive he'd become to the ladies.
But unlike the women from the circuit or from home, Miss Lexie Webster didn't know him from a hole in the ground. And that was perfect. He needed to keep his mind on the task at hand. Learn to swim. Then learn to sail a boat, and then, by damn, sail it, and see something of the world while he did. For himself, and for Dad. After that, he wasn't sure what the future would hold, but for right now, he wasn't looking any further than mastering this water stuff.
Making his way back toward the lobby, he debated the wisdom of hiring an attractive woman to teach him. He recalled the tornado of images that had whirled through his mind when she'd said So you want private lessons-images that had nothing to do with swimming or sailing. But he forced the worry aside. He could do anything he set his mind to. He'd just pretend Lexie Webster was one of the guys.
After all, how distracting could one small woman be?
At eight forty-five that evening Josh walked along one of the winding flagstone paths leading toward the pool. Lush vegetation surrounded the meandering walkway. Palms towered overhead, their long curving leaves rustling in the gentle, tropical-scented breeze. A full moon glowed, casting shimmering silver ribbons on the calm ocean, and the soothing splash of one of the grounds' many waterfalls reached his ears.
He nodded to a hand-holding, strolling couple, then, as he crossed over a small wooden bridge, he spied another couple embracing on the beach, backlit by the moon's glow. He could easily see how this setting, with its potent combination of the ocean, the salt air, the swaying palms and the need for very little clothing could turn one's thoughts to romance.
But not him. No sirree. His agenda left no time for canoodling. In fact, romancing of any kind was the furthest thing from his mind. Every last ounce of his concentration was firmly focused on the pool and his upcoming swimming lesson.