Tall, Tanned & Texan

The man.

And so she intended to be ready when he happened along.

If he happened along.

“I shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine in the airport lounge. I think I’ll head to the ladies’ room before we takeoff.” Savannah tucked the remainder of her candy bar into her purse, popped open her seat belt, pushed to her feet and sashayed the few feet to the lavatory at the front of the plane.

Deanie glanced at her watch again. Anxiety rushed through her, chasing away the excitement. They really needed to get going. The last thing she wanted was to be late.

Camp E.D.E.N. ran a tight ship. There would be no lounging around the pool or writing post cards. Her training would start immediately after check-in with the first workshop—Shedding Your Inhibitions. There would be a thirty minute dinner break and then it was back to work with three more workshops before curfew and lights out. The strict regimen went hand-in-hand with the camp’s no-nonsense image. Camp E.D.E.N. was for the serious, self-improvement-minded individual, not the fun-seeking sort. At least that’s what the Web site and its page of testimonials claimed.

Her toes whimpered and she eased her feet out of her shoes just enough to allow some breathing room. She shifted and tried for a more comfortable position. The seat was more narrow than she’d initially thought, her legs a lot more cramped. Jet-setting to a tropical getaway wasn’t at all as glamorous as she’d imagined.

It felt more like being cooped up in the last row of a school bus with the other equipment assistants—all three of them, Deanie included—while the football players rode up front.

Then again, this wasn’t high school.

This was her life.

The new and improved version.

“This is a good day.” She murmured the words her grandmother had recited to her every morning during her summer visits before the old woman had passed away.

A great day.

A scary day.

She forced aside the last thought.

Exciting, not scary.

Of course, both caused massive bursts of adrenaline and a faint, light-headed feeling so it was understandable how she could confuse the two.

She pulled out the latest fashion magazine she’d bought at the newsstand—after reaching for Sports Illustrated and giving herself a mental hand slap—and flipped to an article that debated the benefits of lip gloss versus lipstick. Then she heard something…

It took her all of two seconds to realize it wasn’t just the cramped space that reminded her of her high school days.

It was the deep, husky voice that slid into her ears.

“…wouldn’t say I was the greatest tackle to ever play pro football. Maybe one of the top five…”

It couldn’t be.

Deanie closed her eyes for a long moment, her heart beating frantically, as the past pushed and pulled at her.

“Hey there, Teeny.”

The familiar voice echoed in her memory and she practically smelled the sharp aroma of cattle and hay that had filled the corral where she’d watched her brother and his best friend practice steer wrestling techniques every afternoon after school.

“…I managed to hold my own, but there were a lot of players just as good…”

She forced her eyes open, drew a deep breath and twisted to peer over the top of her seat.

Rance McGraw had been the hottest, hunkiest boy to ever wear a Romeo High School football jersey. He’d been the youngest and the wildest of the notorious McGraw triplets, the star of Deanie’s adolescent fantasies and a few adult ones, as well. He’d been sweet and charming and charismatic, and one of the best steer wrestlers to ever win first place at Romeo Junior Livestock Show and Rodeo. He’d also been the boy Deanie had wanted desperately to marry and live happily ever after with.

Wanted, as in past tense. She’d given up her infatuation with him a long time ago.

Sixteen years was a long time, however, and the boy had turned into a hotter, hunkier man.

The man now sitting two rows behind her.

She swallowed and tried for a deep breath. But while her brain issued the command, her lungs wouldn’t cooperate. Neither would her eyes. She willed them to look away, but they kept staring, drinking in the picture he made, his tall, muscular form barely contained in the narrow seat.

With his dark hair and good ole boy smile, Rance was the spitting image of his two handsome brothers. He had the same strong jaw, sensuous lips and sculpted nose. At the same time, there would be no mistaking him for the other two. Being a fraternal triplet, he didn’t have blue eyes like Mason or green ones like Josh. Rather, his gaze gleamed as bright, as bold, as intoxicating as a shot of Jack Daniels whiskey.

Even more, Rance had his own style that set him apart. He wasn’t the classic clean-cut cowboy type like the other McGraw men. Rather, his dark hair hung down to his shoulders. He wore a bright Hawaiian print shirt unbuttoned, a white NASCAR T-shirt beneath. She couldn’t see without giving herself whiplash, but she’d be willing to bet that he wore his signature board shorts, long and frayed around the edges, and a pair of flip-flops.

The only indication of his cowboy roots was the beat-up straw Resistol that he’d been wearing since the age of sixteen. It had belonged to his father who’d died that year. The hat looked worn and faded now, a Coors Lite patch stitched to the brim in between a patch for last year’s ESPN Extreme Sports Games in Colorado and another advertising the bungee jumping finals in South America.

The media still referred to him as a cowboy, however, because of his do-anything attitude and I-don’t-give-a-damn appearance. Rance was an ex-pro football player who now owned a chain of extreme sporting good stores and still made the news with his passion for the outrageous. Just last year she’d seen him on TV hang gliding over a sea of hungry sharks.

Crazy.

Not Rance, mind you. She understood his competitive drive better than anyone because she knew the circumstance behind it. His parents had died when he’d been sixteen, and a little of his heart had died with them. He’d been trying to revive it ever since with a constant supply of adrenaline rush.

No, Deanie was the crazy one.

Her heart pounded. Her vision blurred. Her hands even trembled.

And all because of the fact that Rance McGraw was this close and, despite every argument to the contrary, Deanie still wanted him more than her next breath.

She didn’t know whether to crawl across the seat and kiss him for all she was worth, or kick his ass sixty ways to Sunday.

On the one hand, she’d vowed to abandon her hellion ways and conduct herself in a more ladylike fashion from here on out.

On the other hand, she’d offered herself to Rance once before and it had gotten her the ultimate rejection.

She weighed the two options for several frantic heartbeats.

Better to go with plan B.

Deanie unfastened her seat belt and pushed to her feet.

2

WHEN IT CAME TO WOMEN, Rance McGraw had never been a man to turn tail and run the other way.

He liked women. Hell, he loved ’em and he wasn’t the least bit shy about it.

He loved the silky feel of a woman’s hair trailing between his fingers. The softness of her skin against his lips during a deep, hot kiss. The rasp of her nails up and down his back as he plunged deep inside her body. The soft, sweet, breathless sound of her voice as she begged for more…

Yep, he loved women, all right. As thoroughly and as often as possible. And they loved him.

Deanie Codge, in particular.

She’d been head over heels for him since the day he’d paired up with her brother, Clay, for the annual steer wrestling competition.

Rance had been eight years old when he’d gone home with Clay to practice. Deanie had been four, and hell-bent on joining in the wrestling match. When Clay had captured her in a headlock to teach her a lesson and force her to leave them alone, Rance had gone to her rescue.

It was the biggest mistake of his life.

Free of her brother’s hold, Deanie had stared up at him with wide, adoring blue eyes, and the damage had been done. She’d followed him around from then on, clear up until the night he’d graduated high school and left for college.

A vision pulled him back and he saw her standing on the grassy bank of McGraw River, her long, dark hair hanging down around her shoulders, her pale, naked body shimmering in the moonlight.

He didn’t remember much about that night except that he’d started out at Dorie Jackson’s graduation party with his buddies and a keg of beer. He wasn’t sure exactly how he made it out to the creek or what happened to the dozen or so guys he’d been party-hopping with. The evening was just a blur up until that moment when he found himself alone on the riverbank with Deanie.

His senses had sharpened then and he’d drank in the sight of her, from the faint stirring of her hair to the goose bumps that had chased up and down her pale arms, to the pucker of her ripe, rosy nipples. He’d heard the slight gurgle of water where it fed from the underground spring, the buzz of crickets and the thunder of his own heartbeat. He’d smelled the vanilla and sugar scent of her Sweet Honesty perfume. He’d tasted the surprise on his own tongue and he’d felt the sharp tightening of his groin.

That had been the first time he’d ever seen her naked. And the last.

Hell, that had been the last time he’d seen her, period. He’d been back in Romeo only a handful of times over the past sixteen years and he’d always made it his business to steer clear of Deanie Codge.

He’d succeeded up until a few months ago when he’d come face-to-face with her at the double wedding of his older brothers, Josh and Mason. Rance was the third and youngest of the McGraw triplets, and the only remaining bachelor. A title he intended to keep for as long as possible. His living-on-the-edge lifestyle wasn’t conducive to a long-term relationship and so he’d avoided them.

Much the same way he’d avoided Deanie.

She’d caught up with him, however, and confirmed what he’d started to suspect months before, when he’d come home to mend after breaking his leg en route to an alligator wrestling competition in Australia. Namely that she no longer carried a torch for him.

As owner and spokesperson for Extreme Dream, the South’s largest chain of extreme sporting goods stores, Rance competed in everything from snowboarding to offtrack dirt bikes. He’d skiied down the Riviera, base-jumped off the Empire State Building and parasailed over piranha-infested waters off the coast of Thailand.

Scary stuff, but not half as frightening as meeting up with Deanie, and so Rance had kept his return a secret from any and everyone.

At least he’d tried.

But then a sudden craving for something sweet had forced him to make a midnight run to the local diner. Word had traveled in the time it had taken to eat one slice of Miss Mona’s unforgettable cherry pie and he’d been screwed.

Or so he’d thought.

But in the days that had followed, Deanie had made no attempt to contact him.

Until the wedding.

She’d spotted him and he’d spotted her. They’d exchanged the usual pleasantries. And then…

Nada.

No stealing glances at him during the ceremony. No bugging him to dance at the reception. No following him home with his favorite pepperoni and jalapeno pizza. No showing up on his doorstep with his favorite silver dollar blueberry pancakes the next morning. No inviting him to the local Friday night football game or Saturday bingo or Sunday morning church.

That had been a week ago. The longest week of his life. He hadn’t slept. He’d barely eaten. He’d spent his time thinking. Worrying. Wondering. What the hell had happened?

Suddenly, his gaze collided with a pair of sizzling blue eyes fringed in dark black lashes. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her full, pink lips pulled into a tight frown. Her shoulders were rigid, her movements stiff as she sidestepped in front of the seat next to her and stepped purposely into the aisle.

She looked ready to explode, and not in an orgasmically good way.

That’s it, buddy. She’s over you. And once she gets in touch with her sexuality at Camp E.D.E.N., she’ll be on to bigger and better things and she’ll really be over you.

His gut tightened and it took all of his effort to keep the smile on his face from hardening into a frown. So she wasn’t tagging along after him like she used to? It didn’t mean she wasn’t still wildly attracted to him.

She still wanted him, all right.

He knew it. He felt it.

Even if she was doing a damned fine job of hiding it.

Remember your objective—intercept and turnaround.

While Deanie had every right to lead her own life the way she saw fit, her older brothers felt differently, particularly Rance’s longtime friend and best bud, Clay. The man was frantic. Not because his baby sister couldn’t make her own decisions and switch jobs, or even cities, if she felt like it.

But enrolling in a sex camp?

Clay had been ready to follow her himself, despite the fact that he was going to be a father any minute. But then Rance had shown up and volunteered for the job.

“You don’t have time for this.”

He could still hear Shank Murphy when Rance had dialed him up en route to the airport. Shank was the chief marketing director for Extreme Dream and Rance’s business partner. He’d had a fit when Rance had told him that he wouldn’t be flying back to Austin today because he had to do a favor for an old friend.

“You have to come back today. You’ve got to pick up your gear and catch a plane tomorrow in order to make personal appearances for the upcoming competition.”

“Pack and ship my gear and I’ll pick it up when I get there.”

“Tomorrow. You have to leave tomorrow. I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing.”

“I’ll be there.”

Which meant he had twenty-four hours to talk some sense into one very stubborn Deanie Codge.

He’d wanted to sling her over his shoulder and haul her off the plane the moment he’d set eyes on her, but that would have just made her mad. He didn’t want her mad. Mad meant stubborn, which meant she would do anything just to spite him. Including booking herself on the next flight out the minute his back was turned. No, he wanted her stuck so that she would have no choice but to listen to reason.

A sex camp, of all things. While the setup had looked respectable enough when he and Clay had looked it up on the Internet, Rance could only imagine what really went on at a place like that.

In fact, he’d spent the better part of the cab ride to the airport imagining it, and so he’d been pretty worked up before he’d seen her board the plane in her skimpy dress and do-me high heels.

Seeing her up close and personal, smelling the sweet sent of vanilla and sugar that still clung to her, hearing the slight breathlessness in her voice when she spoke worked him up even more. He knew then as he stared up at her that he wasn’t just here because of his friendship with Clay.

Deanie had been the one constant in his life. The one person he could count on to always be there. The one person who’d really liked him. The one person who’d cared.

The only person.

She couldn’t not be attracted to him anymore.

Particularly since he was about to bust his pants at the sight of her.

He tamped down his lust, shifted in his seat and put on his game face.

“Hey, there, Teeny.” He grinned when she reached him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She glared down at him. “I’m going to kill you. First I’m going to shoot you, then I’m going to skin your sorry hide, and then I’m going to hang what’s left for the buzzards.”

“Careful with the sweet talk.” He winked. “Otherwise, I’m liable to think you’ve still got the hots for me.”

Her eyes softened and he knew then that she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended to be. But then her expression hardened again. “In your dreams.”

He grinned, slow and sure. “Amen.”

AMEN?

As in he actually dreamed about her?

Deanie entertained the possibility for several fast, furious heartbeats before reminding herself that this was Rance McGraw.

As in the Rance McGraw who’d never so much as glanced her way romantically while growing up.

As in the Rance McGraw who’d turned her down cold the night she’d offered her body to him.

“I can’t do it,” he’d told her.

Unfortunately, rumor said he’d done it with every cheerleader who’d shaken a pair of pompoms his way and so Deanie knew that it wasn’t so much the fact that he couldn’t do it, but that he couldn’t do it with her.

Or rather, he wouldn’t.

Because Deanie hadn’t been a cheerleader. Or a twirler. Or even a pep squad member. Heck, she hadn’t been a member of anything except the auto shop club and she’d only joined that because her brother, Clay, had served as president to earn extra credit in shop class. He’d promised to rally for the club and boost its membership, and so he’d recruited his best friend, Rance, to help him. That had been enough incentive for Deanie and she’d gladly forked over two dollars in dues and worked her buns off to help Clay pass his senior elective.

Clay.

The name stuck in her head and Rance’s sudden appearance started to make sense. Her brother had a wife who was nine months pregnant. He couldn’t come running after her. So he’d asked his oldest friend to do it for him.

“Clay put you up to this, didn’t he?” she asked with tight lips.

“Up to what?”

“This.” She gestured around. “You’re following me.”

“You’re the one who came to me, Teeny. I don’t recall jumping out of my seat to walk over to you.”

“You know what I mean.”

He gave her a wide-eyed look that might have hinted at innocence if the Devil himself hadn’t danced in the bright gold depths of his eyes. “I don’t have a clue.”

“Okay, if you’re not following me, then what are you doing?”

He held up a bag of pretzels. “Just having a damned fine snack, darlin’.”

She ignored the shiver that rippled through her at the endearment. “I mean, what are you doing on this plane? On this flight?”

He winked. “I’m on my way to camp.”

“ You’re going to Camp E.D.E.N.?”

“Sure am.”

“But why? It’s a…” The word sex stalled on the tip of her tongue and her mouth went dry. She swallowed. “It’s not the sort of place you would want to go.”

“Actually, I think it’s exactly the sort of place I’d want to go.”

“Why? Because you need sex lessons?”

“I was thinking I could give a few.”

“You’re going as an instructor?”

He must have read the disbelief in her voice because his grin faltered just a little. “I’m truly hurt, Teeny, that you don’t think I have anything to offer by way of sexual expertise.” He stared up at her, into her, and his gaze added, I seem to recall a time when you felt completely different.

“You already have a job,” she said, eager to ignore the sudden memory that rushed at her. Of a moonlit creek bank and a desperately hopeful girl and… Uh, uh. She wasn’t going there.

Not now. Not ever again.

“This is just a little side project to break the monotony. I need some variety in my life.”

“You’re an extreme sports fanatic. Your life is nothing but variety.”

“Too much of anything can become routine.” He winked. “Say, maybe you’ll end up in one of my classes.”

It took everything she had not to give in to the sudden shiver that raced through her at the prospect.

First off, if he were an actual instructor, she wouldn’t get lucky enough to wind up in his class. Second, she knew full well that Camp E.D.E.N. only employed educated professionals. While Rance had the experience and know-how, he didn’t have a Ph.D. in sex education. Which meant he’d cooked up the story to cover the real reason for his presence.

Clay.

She planted her hands on her hips. “If Clay thinks I’m going to change my mind just because you’re here, he can think again. I’m going to Eden.”

“Then so am I.” He grinned. “After all, duty calls.”

SHE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN better than to leave a note.

Deanie spent the entire trip to Miami mentally kicking her own ass for being so stupid. But she hadn’t wanted Clay to worry. Unfortunately, she hadn’t wanted to lie to him, either, and so she was stuck with Rance for the entire flight.

It was bad enough that he sat just a few rows behind and she had to hear his voice. But what made things worse was that she could feel him. Her nerves tingled, her hands shook and her heart pounded with awareness. She tried to talk to Savannah, but the woman was more interested in taking a nap before they arrived. Likewise, Mavoreen was snoring away in the row in front. Deanie was left with her magazines.

Unfortunately, makeup and clothes and Fifty Ways to Make Your Man Say Wow wasn’t enough to distract her from the knowledge that he was there.

Behind her.

Watching her.

Even more, Rance himself reminded her every hour or so by heading to the men’s restroom near the cockpit. On his way back to his seat, he made it a point to meet and hold her gaze. And he grinned at her. And forced her heartbeat faster with the twinkle in his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel like the last barbecue rib at an Elks luncheon, and Rance was one hungry Elk.

Right.

No way did Rance actually hunger for her.

She told herself that as they flew the hundreds of miles to Miami, and she actually believed it by the time the plane touched down to pick up more passengers. But then they took off again and he made another bathroom trip, and the way he looked at her sparked the thought all over again.

Maybe he was telling the truth.

Maybe fate had orchestrated this chance meeting. Maybe they’d been thrown together so that their unspent lust for one another could be rekindled. At least her own would be rekindled. He hadn’t carried a torch for her back then, so his lusty fire would have just ignited at the sight of her. Maybe he’d realized what he’d been missing all these years and he would do any and everything to make it up to her.

Forget Mavoreen. Deanie was the seriously delusional one.

He was following her, checking up on her, plain and simple. Reason told her as much.

If only Rance didn’t keep stirring her doubt with his sexy-enough-to-be-a-sex-instructor grin.

Thankfully, the trip from Miami to Escapades Island was short. The Fasten Seat Belt light stayed on the entire time so Rance stayed in his seat. And Deanie managed to shake the whole attraction/fate theory.

“We have exactly twenty-two minutes before we take off for Eden,” the flight attendant announced once they’d rolled to a stop at the main gate at the Escapades airport. “Until then, everyone is free to move around the cabin.”

Uh, oh.

“This is where I get off,” Savannah declared as she gathered her purse and pushed to her feet. “Nice meeting you and happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Thanks. You know,” Deanie unfastened her seat belt and pushed to her feet, “I really need to stretch my legs. I’ll walk you out.” She followed Savannah down the aisle and up the terminal gate.

She wasn’t going to be a sitting duck for Rance and her own crazy fantasies.

And if he follows you?

She didn’t chance a glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t risking even more eye contact if he was following her. She said goodbye to Savannah once they reached the gate and headed into the small but busy terminal that serviced all flights to and from Escapades Island. She passed a newsstand and a bagel cart before she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

He was following her, all right, and she knew just how to prove it and kill the maybe’s once and for all.