Jacquie D’Alessandro - In Over His Head

Raising her gaze from his cast, their eyes met. Dozens of memories she'd thought she'd sorta, kinda, almost filed away under "the past" bounced through her mind. Damn it, why did he have to darken her doorstep and resurrect those images she'd worked so hard to bury?

A sheepish half grin pulled up one corner of his mouth, flashing that damn sexy dimple. "Are you going to invite me in?"

She wanted to say no. Wanted to slam the door in his face, to shut him out of her life and mind. Whatever his reason was for blowing through town and stopping by and flashing his dimple, she didn't want any part of it. Because he would just leave again. How many times was she expected to bear the pain of saying goodbye to him?

Raising her brows, she lifted her chin and forced a coolness into her voice. "I suppose I'd better invite you in. If I don't you might lose your balance on those crutches and topple into the flower bed." She stepped back to give him room to enter the foyer.

"Thanks." The rubber tips of his crutches sounded a soft splat against the ceramic tile.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, closing the door, trying her darnedest to ignore her traitorous heart, which seemed to thump out in Morse code, He's here! He's here!

"Coffee would be great."

She followed him into the kitchen, absolutely not noticing how at-home he looked in her house, instead forcing herself to note the fact that he handled himself on those crutches like a pro. No doubt due to lots of past practice from a long line of rodeo-related injuries. Yup, good thing he was no longer her problem. She might love him, but that would fade in time.

Yeah, like in a hundred years , her inner voice snickered. While he settled himself in the kitchen chair he'd always occupied during their fling , she measured out scoops of fragrant grinds into the filter. Why was he here? And why didn't he say something? She at least had a reason for her silence-the big lump blocking her throat. What was his excuse?

She added water, then switched the coffeemaker on. Unable to put it off any longer, she turned around and faced him. Their eyes met. Just looking at him, her heart tumbled down to her toes, taking her stomach and a few other vital organs along for the ride.

When he still remained silent, annoyance trickled through her. Whatever he wanted, it was time he spoke up. Then left her alone. And clearly she was the one who was going to have to get things moving along here.

She cleared her throat. "So you injured yourself in the rodeo. I have to admit, I'm having a very hard time not saying 'I told you so.'" Humph. Take that and stick it in your Stetson, hotshot.

"Didn't get hurt in the rodeo."

She pointedly eyed his cast. "Slipped on the deck while sailing the Mediterranean?"

"Nope. I fell at the airport. Here. Last night. Tripped over my damn duffel bag." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Was all your fault, I'll have you know."

Her eyes goggled. " My fault? That you tripped?"

He nodded solemnly. "I'd set down my bag to dig out my cell phone. I was dialing your number when, through the windows, I saw this gal getting into a cab. I didn't see her face, but she had your curly brown hair. I thought it was you-"

"It wasn't."

"I realized that when she turned her head, but unfortunately I'd already started forward. I tripped on my duffel and went down like a hog-tied calf. What followed was more embarrassing than anything I've ever faced. People all gatherin' around and starin', then the ambulance arriving. Talk about feeling like the south end of a horse." He shook his head. "I spent the whole friggin' night in the emergency room getting X-rayed and outfitted in this cast. Definitely not the way I'd hoped to spend the evening. I would have called you, but I, uh, know how you feel about getting calls from the hospital. So I waited until I was discharged, and… here I am."

"Yes, here you are." Looking big and vital and wonderful, albeit bruised, making her heart perform acrobatic leaps. "May I ask why you're here?"

Without taking his gaze from her, he slowly rose, then hobbled toward her. He stopped when only a foot separated them, then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the countertop on either side of her, caging her in. She pressed her backside harder against the counter, but there was no escaping, unless she wanted to give him a shove. Given the facts that he was injured, and her traitorous body was very happy to have him standing so close, she opted against the shove. Instead she gazed into his serious eyes and prayed he couldn't hear her heart pounding.

"I'm here," he said in a low, husky voice, "because this is where you are. And where you are, is where I want to be."

Elation and something akin to panic collided in her. Clearly he wanted to continue their fling. And while her body and mind were all for it, her heart wanted no part of the inevitable battering it would receive when he left again. And damn it, she resented that he obviously believed he could just pop into town and drop by. As if they were still involved. As if their fling hadn't ended.

Forcing a calm detachment that surely deserved an Academy Award, she said, "Is that so. And how long are you in town for this time, cowboy?"

His gaze never wavered. "That depends."

"On what?"

"You."

The intensity of his gaze burned her. Heat emanated from his body and although he hadn't touched her, she still felt scorched. His clean, masculine scent filled her head, notching up her temperature another few degrees. She had to resist the urge to fan herself.

No doubt about it, he was potent, and his nearness was nearly impossible to resist. It would be so easy to fall back into his arms, to touch him and to be with him, to resume their fling. But nothing between them had changed.

She raised her chin. "I fail to see how I would affect the length of your stay. Our relationship ended a month ago."

"No. A month ago, I had to leave. Now I don't have to. Unless…"

"Another rodeo comes along?"

"No. Unless you want me to. And even then, I gotta tell ya, you're going to have a hell of a time gettin' rid of me."

A flicker of hope sparked in her chest, but she ruthlessly extinguished the tiny flame like a blown-out candle atop a birthday cake. "Look, Josh. I'm not interested in another temporary fling."

Whatever reaction she'd expected from him, it certainly wasn't the relief-filled smile that relaxed his features. "Well, now that's exactly what I wanted to hear. 'Cause I'm not interested in another temporary fling, either. And not to put too fine a point on it, but I believe we'd agreed at some point that we were dating ."

"And it didn't work out. And nothing about our situation has changed. I don't understand-"

"Oh, but everything about our situation has changed," he broke in.

"Really? How do you figure that?"

"Well, for starters, I've hung up my spurs for good." Clearly her doubt showed, for he added softly, "And I can only ask that you take my word on that, Lexie. I don't make promises I can't keep, and my rodeo days are done. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I beat Wes Handly in Monaco, and set a new record while I was at it. I'll always love the rodeo, but it's time to move on." His gaze rested on hers. "To other things I love."

Her heart and breath seemed to stall. Good thing her lungs knew how to operate on their own, because all her faculties appeared frozen.

"While I was in Monaco, I rented a sailboat," he continued. "Hired myself an experienced captain, and spent an entire day sailing around the harbor. Under his watchful eye, I operated the boat, then I let him take over while I just watched the water and thought about how much I wished my dad was with me and how he would have loved being there."