Should've Been A Cowboy & Cowboy Up: Should've Been a Cowboy / Cowboy Up. Vicki Thompson Lewis

of your ex? Are you still—”

      “Hell, no, I’m not still hung up on Crystal.” He looked into her eyes and figured the truth would work as well as anything. “But I’m afraid I might get hung up on you.”

      Her pupils darkened and her full lips parted. Then she glanced away, as if she wanted to cancel that involuntary reaction.

      Too late. He’d seen desire flare in her eyes and it had created a predictable response in him. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his jeans. “Are you afraid you’ll get hung up on me?”

      Her breathing quickened, making the turquoise fabric covering her breasts quiver. A turquoise pendant nestled in her cleavage and silver-and-turquoise drop earrings peeked through her dark curls. Her outfit was sexy, but he knew that had nothing to do with him. She hadn’t expected to see him today.

      The dress, the shoes, the jewelry, the hair—they were an expression of Tyler’s style and another reason he’d been attracted to her last August. From his position on the DJ platform he’d watched her rhythmic, undulating movements with increasing fascination. When she’d appeared with champagne and an invitation, he’d been a goner.

      “I am afraid we’d become too involved.” She gazed up at him. “When I saw you in the kitchen, I had instant recall of you and me in the hayloft.”

      “I always wondered if you told anybody about that.”

      “No. Did you?”

      He shook his head. “We agreed it wasn’t going anywhere, so talking about it seemed too much like adolescent bragging.”

      “I appreciate you keeping it quiet. I saw no point in telling anyone, either. We’re consenting adults who wanted to have some harmless fun. End of story.”

      “Exactly.” But it wasn’t the end of the story. He knew it, and he suspected she did, too.

      She hesitated. “I like you, Alex. I’m worried that if we pick up where we left off, it could turn into more, and I’m leaving on Wednesday. That isn’t going to change, no matter what happens between us.”

      “I know.” He couldn’t seem to stop looking into her eyes. The hayloft had been dark and he hadn’t been able to see how beautiful they were—a deep, velvet brown that was almost black. “It might be better if we could just avoid each other.”

      “I screwed that up by offering to help you with your open house tomorrow. It was a reflex. I see a party in trouble and I’m all over it. Sorry.”

      “Don’t be.” He loved the way her lashes fluttered when she apologized. “I could tell you wanted to take that offer back, but I really could use some ideas, and I’m sure you’ve dealt with unexpected problems hundreds of times.”

      “You mean like a typhoon in the middle of a formal dinner dance?” Her full mouth curved and two tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks.

      He smiled back. He’d forgotten about the dimples. “Yeah, like that. My lack of entertainment and my canopy issues must seem pretty small compared to what you’ve experienced.”

      “When it’s your event, nothing is small. Listen, we’ll work this out. Just because we’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean we have to act on it. You may not believe this, considering our past history, but I’m pretty good at controlling those urges.”

      “No shipboard romances?”

      “God, no.”

      A surge of relief told him he was already feeling slightly possessive. Not good. “I have to believe guys have tried. I mean, you’re so...so...”

      She watched him with a bemused expression. “Sensual. I’m a sensual woman. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

      “Yeah.” Normally he had an excellent vocabulary, honed by hours behind a microphone, but Tyler had the ability to reduce his IQ by several points. “That’s what I’m trying to say. So I don’t understand, unless you hook up with somebody on the ship...”

      “That’s dangerous. The passengers are strictly off-limits, obviously, and getting involved with a staff member can result in disaster if it blows up. I’ve seen it happen and it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

      Alex gazed at her standing there in her flirty dress and come-hither shoes. “It’s none of my business, but I don’t understand how celibacy works for you.”

      Her cheeks grew rosy and her glance slid to somewhere over his left shoulder. “I haven’t figured that out yet. It’s the only negative factor in my career plan.”

      He wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare. She’d constructed the perfect trajectory for herself, except that she’d left her sexual needs completely out of the equation. She hadn’t successfully submerged them, either, despite what she’d said. Her choice of shoes told him that.

      She straightened and looked him in the eye. “But FYI, I’m not a sex-starved woman who would be grateful if a virile cowboy came along to reduce her frustration level for a few days.”

      “I would never think of you like that.” But he would think of her as a sensual, vibrant woman who needed to be loved. He sighed with regret. “It’s probably better if we don’t become involved while you’re here. No point in starting something that could lead to problems.”

      “I agree.”

      “I wanted a chance to discuss that, which is the main reason I volunteered to bring your suitcase up and direct you to your room.”

      “I thought you were doing it to be a gentleman.”

      “No, to be gentlemanly. A true gentleman wouldn’t have followed you up to the hayloft after the wedding reception. So don’t ever mistake me for a gentleman.”

      “All right, I won’t.” Her eyes sparkled.

      He wanted to kiss her, and he vividly remembered the feel of her lips on his. He resisted the impulse.

      “So, Alex.” She took a breath. “Let’s forget about whatever chemistry we have and concentrate on your event.”

      He doubted he’d be able to forget about this attraction, but he moved into safer territory because that seemed to be what she wanted. “I will only admit this to you, but I’m feeling in over my head this first time. I have a marketing degree, but in Chicago they wanted me on air, so I—”

      “Because you have such a great voice.”

      He shrugged off the compliment. He couldn’t take credit for that because he’d never worked at trying to sound good. “It fit their criteria, I guess, but consequently I didn’t get into the marketing end quite as much. I was part of the team that put on events for the station, mostly for charity, but this is my first solo effort.”

      She gazed up at him. “You’ll be fine. You have a fabulous venue and people are more flexible than you think. If you keep your sense of humor, they’ll keep theirs.”

      He understood why she was good at her job. “That’s the best advice I’ve heard all day.” He gestured toward the open bedroom door. “If you want to check out your room, I’ll bring you some sheets and towels from the linen closet.”

      “Thanks. Just leave them by the door and I’ll make up my bed later. Right now I need to change clothes if I’m going to be any good to you.”

      He could think of several ways she could be good to him, and none of them involved clothes. “Before I look for sheets, I need to see Gabe’s bed. I can’t remember what size it is.” Picking up her suitcase, he carried it into the bedroom.

      Oh, yeah. Now he remembered that Gabe’s old room was furnished with an antique four-poster and dresser, which meant the mattress and box springs were a double rather than a queen or king. Alex had Jack’s former room, which Jack had outfitted with a king-size bed set on a massive