Mr. Cowboy's physique definitely fell into the sigh-inducing category she called "came by it honestly"-from hard work and physical labor-as opposed to the "pretty-boy-perfect" body gained by lifting weights while admiring oneself in the mirror at the local health club.
He neatly folded his shirt, then bent to untie his sneakers. With his attention focused on his shoelaces, she allowed herself a quick peek at his butt. No surprise that his ass was as fine as the rest of him.
Last week's conversation with Darla tickled her memory, and she frowned. Based solely on his looks, Josh Maynard was definitely fling-worthy. But just because the guy's physique hardened her nipples didn't mean he was a good choice. There were a few other things to consider-such as did he harbor homicidal-maniac tendencies?
After setting his Nikes down next to the lounge chair where his shirt and towel rested, he approached the pool. His gaze skimmed intently over the entire surface, as if looking for something. After a moment, apparently satisfied with what he'd seen-or hadn't seen-he appeared to brace himself, then walked down the steps to join her.
"Okay," he said, stopping when several feet separated them. I'm ready." A crooked grin pulled up one corner of his mouth. "Bring it on."
The moon and the muted overhead lights cast a soft glow over him, accentuating his wide shoulders. Height-wise, he was just right-not too short, not too tall. Her eyes were level with his mouth. His firm, strong, very attractive mouth.
She huffed out a breath. Good Lord, get a grip on yourself, Lexie. So he's good-looking. So he's built like a god. You don't know anything about him. He probably has five ex-wives. Or five girlfriends. Or is married. Or gay. Or out on parole. And even if he isn't, what difference does it make? He's a transient vacationer. He'll be gone in a week, two weeks tops.
The third rule of flings suddenly flashed through her mind: temporary.
A transient vacationer certainly met that criteria.
She flexed her fingers, pushing the thought aside-for now. Right now she needed to stop behaving like a hormonal teenager, to act in a professional manner and to get on with the lesson. For the next hour he was a paying customer. She needed the money. Period. After that… well, she'd see how things progressed.
"Tell me, Josh, are you afraid of the water? Have you had a bad experience in the past?"
He hesitated, then said, "I like the water well enough. Pool water, and clear, tropic-type ocean water, that is. The sort where you can see the bottom. But I've never lived near the ocean, and I've rarely had the occasion to use a pool. There's lots of creeks, streams, rivers and watering holes at home, so I had the opportunity but never the… inclination."
"Where is home?"
" Manhattan."
Creeks and watering holes? In Manhattan ? Who did this guy think he was kidding? He was from Manhattan like she was from the Enchanted Forest. Trying to hide her blank disbelief she said, "You, uh, don't sound like a New Yorker."
" Manhattan, Montana."
"There's a Manhattan in Montana?"
"Yes, ma'am. Right in the southwest corner. Proud to call our town The Little Apple, and it's some of the most beautiful land you'd ever want to see. I was born and raised there."
"So are you a cowboy?"
"I am."
"You mean, like a real cowboy? Horses and ranches and cattle and stuff?"
"Yes, ma'am." A slow smile creased his features, coaxing his dimple to appear, while unmistakable mischief danced in his eyes. "Would you like to see my chaps and spurs?"
Would I ever. Heat slivered down her spine and she bit the inside of her cheek. Good grief. If this hunka-hunka gorgeous real cowboy was going to flirt with her, they'd never get this lesson started.
"I'll take your word for it," she said in her most brisk, teacher-like voice. "Now tell me, how much experience do you have in the water?"
His eyes continued to twinkle. "You mean, with regard to swimming?"
The devil inside her actually toyed with the thought of matching his flirtatious demeanor and answering in kind, but she quickly abandoned the idea. She prided herself on her professionalism and commitment to her job. There'd be plenty of time for flirting later-if she decided she actually wanted to indulge.
Shooting him the same warning look and using the same no-nonsense tone she'd perfected on hundreds of adolescent swimming students, she said, "Yes, with regard to swimming."
He sobered, then stroked his chin. "Not much experience, I'm afraid. You see, there was this incident when I was a kid…"
His voice trailed off and sympathy immediately crowded aside any other feelings. Just as she'd suspected. "Did you almost drown?" she asked gently.
"No, ma'am. I was bit."
"Bit?"
"By a snake. We were visiting my uncle in south Texas. I was standing in this creek, in murky water up to about here." He indicated his hips with his hands. "I grabbed for a log floating by, can't think why I did it except it was there. Unfortunately I didn't see the cottonmouth swimming alongside the log, but he saw me. And he let me know it."
"Cottonmouth! They're poisonous!"
"They sure are. Lucky for me, the hospital was close by. Even luckier, the doctor was experienced with snakebites. Turned out the snake had delivered a defensive strike and no venom was injected." A sheepish grin pulled up one corner of his mouth. "I recovered just fine, but I'm afraid that experience sort of soured me toward rivers, lakes, streams and such, so I never learned to swim."
"Perfectly understandable. How old were you?"
"Six. And while I can't say I'd ever want to splash around in another fresh-water location, I'm fine with the prospect of swimming in a pool or the ocean-as soon as I learn how, that is."
This probably wasn't a good time to inform him that creatures more dangerous than snakes populated the ocean. Instead she said, "I'm so sorry that something so traumatic happened to you."
"Well, thank you. That's certainly nicer to hear than the razzing I'm used to gettin' about it from the boys." He shook his head. "Nuthin' worse than jawing with a bunch of cowboys trading snakebite stories and you having to admit that instead of getting tagged on the boot or the ankle or even the hand, you got bit in the butt. Embarrassing, that's what it is."
She pursed her lips to keep them from twitching at his disgruntled tone. "Look on the bright side," she suggested. "If the snake had been in front of you instead of behind you, the entire situation could have been a whole lot worse."
A shudder shook him. "Don't I know it. Can't tell you how many bad moments the mere thought of that scenario inspired."
Hmm. Did he have a cute little scar on his butt? Wouldn't you like to know, her inner voice jeered. Lexie mentally thunked herself in the forehead. Good Lord, now she was fantasizing about scars. Definitely time to get this lesson started.
Offering him an encouraging smile, she said, "The fact that you're not afraid to be in the pool puts you further along than many people I've taught. One-on-one lessons with an experienced instructor always close by will give you the confidence to overcome your fears. The first thing we need to work on is getting your face in the water and learning to breathe."
He shot her a wink and a smile. "Seeing as how I'm already a first-rate breather, this is fixin' to be easier than I thought."
She firmly ignored the flutter his teasing roused in her. Indicating he should follow, she moved toward the middle of the pool, stopping when the water reached his waist. "I want you to breathe in, then bend forward and put your face in the water. Blow your breath out through your nose, then straighten up." She demonstrated, then asked, "Ready to try?"