Now that her chin was back up where it belonged, she found herself looking at a face that confirmed her earlier assessment of "hunk". He wasn't handsome in the classic sense-his features were too rough, too stark. But there was no denying that the dark brown eyes, the high slash of cheekbones, his firm, full lips and square jaw combined to make an arrestingly attractive face. He looked big and tall, muscular, solid and strong, and even though a small feminist inner voice scolded her for not being immune to his obvious masculinity, everything girly in her heaved out a silent, Oooohhhhh.

His gaze settled for a second on her Marlins hat, then tracked slowly downward. She suddenly felt uncharacteristically self-conscious about her pool hair, ratty cap, baggy shorts and damp shirt. Not to mention her suddenly hard nipples-which she longed to blame on a freakish cool breeze, but nothing even remotely resembling a cool breeze had wafted by.

Before she could cross her arms over her chest, he raised his gaze back to hers, then touched the brim of his hat. "You must be Lexie Webster," he said in a deep, sexy voice.

Even if she wasn't Lexie Webster, she suspected no one would have blamed her for claiming she was. Especially since most of the males who sought her out at the resort were normally accompanied by their wives and/or several children. And the rest of them were either under sixteen or over eighty.

Before she could answer he continued, "Tim at the registration desk told me to look for a gal by the pool with a shirt that read Activities And Sports Director." His gaze wandered downward once more, touching on the words emblazoned across her chest, then rose again to meet her eyes. A crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth and a dimple creased his cheek. "That would appear to be you."