In Over His Head

Chapter 5

Lexie spent the entire next day trying to do two things: not watch the clock and not think about Josh.

She failed miserably on both accounts.

Not only did her eyeballs constantly stray to her watch, but each time her mind performed a quick calculation, then registered its report. Only twelve hours and fourteen minutes till you see him again… Only eleven hours and forty-two minutes… Only nine hours and eight minutes…

If she had a nickel for every time she scanned the pool and beach areas for him, she'd be in Bill Gates's league. And it was totally ridiculous to even scan for him since he'd told her he planned to spend the day checking out sailboats. It was fortunate she knew the routine at the resort by rote, because her mind was simply not on her job. No, her mind was too busy reliving last night… and anticipating tonight.

An image of her and Josh in the shower flashed in her mind and she had to take a deep breath. He might have been going for a "ten," but he had delivered a twelve. At least. More like a fifteen. Had any man ever looked so good all wet and soapy? Felt so good? Made her feel so good?

Nope. On all counts. No doubt about it, Josh was an amazing and generous lover. She couldn't have picked a better guy to have a fling with.

But somewhere between them making mind-blowing use of the second and third condoms, her pesky inner voice had started dropping unsettling, unwanted raindrops on her parade-raindrops that soon plopped on her head like water balloons. Yes, she'd felt sated and languid and feminine and incredibly satisfied. But there was something else sneaking in-a not-so-welcome feeling she recognized with a sense of dawning unease.

Tenderness.

Damn it, she didn't want warm, cozy, tender feelings raising their unwanted heads! And she certainly didn't want this transient vacationing cowboy to inspire them. There was absolutely no room for warm fuzzies in this equation. Good grief, what was wrong with her? A couple of orgasms and she was totally losing her grip.

Knowing that the best thing she could do was to put some space between them, she'd left shortly after the fourth condom. Obviously she was incapable of thinking clearly when he was close. Especially when he was lying on top of her, naked and still buried deep in her body. He'd asked her to stay, and the fact that it would have been so easy to do so, convinced her it was imperative that she leave. But they had a swimming lesson scheduled for tonight. And as much as her mind cautioned her to remain aloof, she couldn't wait.

Without a doubt, last night had been… Holy cow. She didn't know. Incredible. Exciting. But something else. Something more and unsettling that she couldn't put her finger on. Had he felt it, too?

Don't be ridiculous. It was sex. Great sex. That's all. You're reading too much into it because it had been so long, you'd forgotten what it felt like. How good it could be.

Yet even as that thought occurred to her, her little inner voice piped up, It's never been that good. That hot.

With an effort she forced her attention back to the task at hand and stored away the flippers and masks from her snorkeling excursion, then made her way toward the Marine Patio for a quick lunch.

After placing her order for a turkey club, another image of her and Josh together in the shower, her pressed up against the tiles, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust deep inside her, flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut in a futile effort to dispel the image. If she didn't get ahold of herself and her runaway libido, she'd be tempted to track him down, looking for a nooner.

Hey, now that's not a bad idea, her unruly hormones chimed in.

She pressed her lips together in annoyance and told her hormones to sit down and shut up. Clearly she was suffering from a glandular imbalance brought on by too much sudden sex after such a long drought.

She managed to nab a table under an umbrella-lord knew she was hot enough without the glaring sun beating down on her-and had just taken a bite of her sandwich when a familiar feminine voice sounded behind her.

"There you are!" Darla slid into the bright aqua-and-yellow chair opposite her. She pulled off her designer shades, then gave Lexie's face a thorough, narrow-eyed exam. Lexie, wishing she'd kept her own shades firmly on her nose, tried her best to keep her features impassive, but clearly she failed for a knowing smile eased across Darla's face.

"I knew it," Darla said, filching a pickle from Lexie's plate. "And if it weren't for the fact that I'm happy for you and that your brain is clearly bamboozled by outrageously fabulous sex, I'd be royally pissed that you didn't call me. For crying out loud, I've been dying all morning, waiting to hear from you." She bit the pickle spear in two and raised her brows. "So… don't keep me in suspense. Clearly you decided he wasn't a wacko or a creep. And based on that neon glow radiating off you, he's stupendous in bed."

Heat rushed into her cheeks. "Yes. To all of the above."

"How stupendous?"

A sigh she couldn't contain eased past her lips. "Off the charts. He gave me goose bumps in places you can't even see with a mirror. And that's before he even took off his clothes."

Darla's eyes goggled, and the other pickle half dropped from her fingers onto the table. "Tell me he has a brother. Please."

"Sorry. Only child."

"Damn." She heaved a mournful sigh, but then brightened. "Well, the rest of womanhood's loss is your gain. When are you seeing him again?"

"Tonight. We have a swimming lesson."

"And after the lesson?"

A picture of Josh, naked and aroused, rose in her mind's eye. "We didn't specifically discuss it, but I wouldn't turn down the chance of a repeat of last night."

"Was Mr. Cowboy as blown away by your night together as you were?"

"I didn't hear any complaints. In fact, his enthusiasm was extremely flattering."

Something in her tone must have sounded less nonchalant than she'd hoped for because Darla's eyes narrowed. "But something's bothering you."

"Not really. It's just that…" She shrugged. "Naturally I was hoping he'd be nice. I just hadn't expected him to be so extremely nice."

"Nice as in 'nice body, nice ass, nice technique' or nice as in 'nice guy, nice smile, nice personality'?"

"Well, both. But option number two is the one that surprised me."

Darla nodded sagely. "Ah. So you like him. And that worries you." Before Lexie could answer, Darla reached out and squeezed her hand. "Listen, Lex. It's perfectly natural that you'd like him. You should like him. You wouldn't have gone to bed with him if he wasn't a decent man. So don't sweat it and get all crazed over it. He's handsome and sexy and great in bed and nice. What's not to like? You're having a fling, nothing more. Remember the rules. Fun, wild and temporary. He's Mr. Transition, getting you back into the groove, building up your confidence, so that when Mr. Right comes along, your engine's all revved up and ready. Just keep things in perspective and enjoy yourself."

Some of the tension eased from Lexie's shoulders. Darla was right. She just needed to keep things in perspective. She was simply out of practice when it came to stuff like this-although, she'd never been in practice with brief affairs. There'd only been two other men besides Tony-one in college and one during her first year teaching-and both of those relationships had lasted over a year.

Yup, she just needed to get into the swing of things, and, as Darla said, enjoy herself. And as long as she kept any emotions from sneaking into the mix, all would be well. After all, how difficult could that be?

Josh stood in the pool, arms outstretched and resting along the bumpy cement edge, cool water lapping at his waist. He refused to check his watch again, logic telling him that no more than thirty seconds had elapsed since the last time he'd looked at it, and a good ten minutes remained before their lesson was scheduled to start. And he also refused to look down at the front of his swimsuit, which, no matter how he tried to will it otherwise, remained tented.

Damn, why wasn't the cool pool water taking the edge off his ardor? A humorless laugh whooshed past his lips. Hell, cool water didn't stand a chance. What he needed was ice water. And somehow, he suspected even that wouldn't help. No doubt about it, he was hot and bothered, and it was all her fault.

He tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. The same question that had plagued him all day echoed once again in his brain. What the hell had happened last night?

Sex, you idiot. Great sex in fact. Best you've had in a while.

A frown pulled on his brow. A while? How about ever.

And just sex? Nope.

He had enough experience to know that a hell of lot more than sex had happened between him and Lexie. And, as tempted as he might be to do so, there was no point in lying to himself about it. Years ago Dad had given him some advice he'd taken to heart. Son, the biggest liar you'll ever have to face is the one who watches you shave in the mirror every morning.

Well, he might be able to squeak a falsehood past himself now and again, but this was not one of those times. The truth was like a horseshoe smacking him upside his head. What the hell had happened last night?

He'd fallen in love.

Yup, after a day spent pondering, there was no doubt. He'd fallen ass over spurs in love. He hadn't been looking, but love had bitten him right on the ass. Damn. Story of his life, gettin' bit on the ass when he wasn't lookin'. He'd been around the block too many times not to know that what he felt for Lexie was special. And different-stronger than anything he'd felt for any other woman. This was a need. A want that went beyond sex. She inspired an unfamiliar protectiveness and an overwhelming urge to know everything about her. What she'd been like growing up. Her favorite color. Favorite food. What made her laugh. During their conversation last night, he'd liked all the things he'd learned about her, and they'd just whetted his appetite for more.

Another one of Dad's sage tidbits tapped him on the shoulder. It don't take a genius to spot a Thoroughbred filly in a flock of sheep, 'cause you don't see one there all too often. Just takes a lucky man.

Lexie's smiling face rose in his mind and he shook his head. The last thing he'd been looking for when he came here was a standout in the crowd, but he'd stumbled upon one just the same. Yup, he'd been in over his head the minute he'd clapped eyes on her, and last night had just sealed the deal for him. Just like his dad, he'd fallen in love at first sight.

But damn, the timing was rotten. He'd come here for one reason-to learn what he needed so he could fulfill the dream he and Dad hadn't been able to fulfill together. So he could put that part of his life behind him and find some peace of mind. Romance, let alone falling in love, had most definitely not figured into his plans or his timetable.

You know what they say about the best laid plans…

And not only did the timing stink, but the location was certainly less than stellar. Hell, he was a couple thousand miles from home. From his ranch and the people who depended on him for their livelihoods. And he was only here for the next few weeks. No, findin' a gal like Lexie here and now was a complication he hadn't banked on. And as if there weren't enough roadblocks already, there was Lexie herself to consider. He clearly sensed she wasn't looking for any sort of serious entanglement, and even if she were, she wouldn't choose a guy who only planned to be around for a few weeks. No, he'd bet his bottom dollar that to her, last night had been nothing more than a fling-a way to end her nearly year-long sabbatical from sex.

A humorless laugh escaped him. Unbelievable. For the first time in his life he'd fallen in love, and the object of his affections only wanted him for sex. How ironic was that?

Well, he could play it cool. No need to tip his hand yet. He was a patient man, willing to give her some time to fall in love with him. As long as she didn't take too damn long about it.

A soft splash caught his attention and he opened his eyes. Lexie was walking slowly down the curved steps into the water. Their eyes met, and damn if it didn't feel as if he'd taken a sucker punch to the gut. Annoyed with himself for wanting to just reach out and grab her like some primitive caveman or uncouth, horny teenager, he kept his arms spread and gripped the edge of the pool for all he was worth.

She waded toward him with a half-shy, half-knowing expression that aroused a lot more than just interest. Her dark brown hair surrounded her head in curly abandon, and he instantly recalled the feel of its silky softness sifting through his fingers. His gaze settled on her mouth and he bit back a groan. Hands down, she possessed the most gorgeous lips he'd ever seen. And God help him, he couldn't wait to taste them again.

She stopped directly in front of him and offered him a half smile. "Hi. Hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

The newly minted certainty that he'd been waiting for her a lot longer than the ten minutes he'd been standing in the pool crept through his mind. "Just arrived myself." By God, it was nearly impossible not to snatch her into his arms. But she had said she wanted things to remain businesslike in the pool. And there was no doubt that he'd be hard-pressed to let her go once he got hold of her.

"Did you have a good day?" she asked.

His grip on the edge tightened. "Yup."

"Did you find a sailboat you liked?"

"Nope."

She cocked a brow. "Something wrong?"

Nothing that a few hours alone with you wouldn't cure. "Nope. I'm just remembering what you said last night about keeping it just to swimming lessons in the pool. Wouldn't want you gettin' all mad at me." One corner of his mouth lifted. "Figured I'd play hard to get."

"Hard to get, huh?" Reaching out, she touched one finger to the base of his throat, then slowly dragged her fingertip down the center of his chest. "How hard?"

With a groan, he yanked her into his arms. "I give up."

His mouth covered hers in a demanding, impatient kiss, filled with all the overwhelming feelings and pent-up frustration he'd felt all day. His tongue explored all the sweet secrets of her mouth, while his hands smoothed down her back to her bottom, pulling her flush against him. She moaned, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer, and he was lost. Lost in the feel of her curves under his hands. Her soft breasts crushed to his chest.

Her flowery scent rose from her skin like tropical steam, invading his senses. Spreading his legs farther apart, he shifted, slowly rubbing his erection against the curve of her belly. A shudder ran through her, echoing in him, and it took every drop of his nearly depleted control to keep himself from simply yanking aside the thin barriers of their swimsuits and easing this relentless ache pounding through him. Unfortunately this was neither the time nor the place.

With an effort that cost him, he gentled their kiss, nibbling lightly on her lips, then raising his head. Her warm breath panted against him, and she looked as dazed and bemused as he felt.

"Holy cow," she said in a rough, raspy whisper. She took in two deep breaths, then blinked at him. "Okay, you've got to be the only cowboy who kisses like that."

"Like what?"

"In that liquefy-the-brain-cells, deplete-the-oxygen, knee-removing way."

A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Why do you say that?"

"Because if every cowboy kissed like you, nothing except kissing would get done on the ranch. The entire beef and cattle industries would go right down the tubes, sending the economy into a tailspin."

He wanted to make a witty rejoinder, something to make her smile, to keep the conversation light, but when he spoke, the simple, undeniable truth tumbled out.

"I thought about you all day."

Lexie looked into his dark, serious eyes, and her the performed a cartwheel. She certainly could say the same to him, although she briefly considered not doing so. But to lie about something so obvious, no doubt God would smite her with a lightning bolt. "I thought about you, too."

He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, the intimate gesture tingling pleasure down her spine. "During my sailboat-shopping travels today, I ran across a country-western place not too far from here. They serve food and drinks, and there's a dance floor and a couple of pool tables, too. Would you like to go tonight, after our lesson?"

"You must mean Buffalo Pete's."

"Yeah, that was the name of it. Have you ever been?"

"Many times. It's a local favorite. The wings are hot and the beer's icy cold. I'd love to go." She smiled, then forced herself to step away from him, not easy considering everything in her wanted to remain plastered against him. "Ready for our lesson?"

"I'm ready for anything you're willin' to dish out, Miss Lexie."

She cocked a brow at him. "Are we still talking about swimming?"

His dimple flashed. "For now."

Josh employed the attention-focusing ability that had stood him in good stead during years of rodeo competition to concentrate on their swimming lesson. Following Lexie's directions, he practiced his breathing, then added the kickboard. Then she showed him the arm movements for the basic crawl stroke, which they practiced side by side. She then had him add the breathing, and finally, the kicking. She was patient, businesslike, and tireless, going over the movements with him again and again. Between her determination and his perseverance, by the end of the hour, he'd made it to the opposite end of the pool and back.

He stood in the shallow and swiped back his wet hair. She gave him a broad grin, then applauded.

"Great job, Josh. Ninety percent of swimming is mastering the right kick-stroke-breathing pattern, and you now have a good feel for the rhythm. From here, all you need is practice. You're certainly ready to start sailing lessons."

Unable to control his smug grin, he caught her around the waist, lifted her up and spun her around. She grasped his shoulders and laughed.

He lowered her slowly, enjoying the slide of her wet body down his. "When can we start those sailing lessons, oh, great and wise teacher? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is my day off."

Disappointment edged through him. "So that means you're not available?"

"Actually, it means I'm available all day."

His gaze wandered down to her full lips, and his heart thumped hard. "Now that's what I call good news."

"The best news is the great progress you've made in such a short amount of time. I think you're the best student I've ever had."

"Well, I know you're the best teacher I've ever had. And definitely the prettiest."

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and shot him a teasing grin. "Oh, come on. I bet there were loads of pretty science and math teachers at the University of Montana."

"There might have been, but my teachers tended toward the bearded, gray-haired, masculine variety."

"Hmm. So, me being the prettiest teacher you've ever had isn't much of a compliment considering the competition."

"Well, you're also the sexiest teacher I've ever had."

"More so than the 'bearded, gray-haired, masculine variety.' Gee, thanks."

He shot her a mock fierce frown and tightened his arms around her. "You're a tough gal to give a compliment to."

"And you're hard-"

"Because of you-"

"-to resist."

Her wicked smile fired his blood. "Well, now," he said, "that's very good to hear. I suggest we consider this lesson officially over. You still up for our date at Buffalo Pete's?"

She leaned closer and rose up on her toes to lightly tug on his earlobe with her teeth. A fog of lust enveloped him and he nearly missed her heart-stopping reply.

"Oh, I'm definitely up for it," she whispered against his ear. "For starters."

Buffalo Pete's was in full Saturday-night swing when they arrived shortly before 11:00 p.m. Bodies pressed three-deep at the long, polished mahogany bar, and waitresses wearing denim cutoffs, cowboy boots, and white T-shirts emblazoned with the bar's logo weaved expertly between the tables and booths. Couples swirled on the dance floor to a lively Garth Brooks tune, and the smack of billiard balls from the back room rose faintly above the noise and music.

Josh took her hand, entwining their fingers, and Lexie relished the warmth of her palm nestled against his. He led her to the hostess stand where a smiling young woman greeted them. She grabbed two plastic-coated menus, then escorted them through a labyrinth of tables toward the rear where she left them at a small table tucked in a cozy, softly lit corner. Josh held out her chair for her-an act of masculine courtesy she'd thought had gone by way of the dinosaur-then folded himself into the chair across from her.

Dressed in cowboy boots, eye-riveting snug jeans, denim shirt and a cream-colored Stetson, he certainly looked at home here, and since he wouldn't be able to hear it over the noise, she didn't even try to contain the sigh of female appreciation the sight of him inspired. The top snap of his shirt was undone, inducing another sigh at the teasing glimpse of his tanned throat. It just made her want to crawl onto his lap, unsnap the rest of his shirt, and play peekaboo.

Prying her gaze away from that fascinating fantasy-inducer, she took in the tanned sinew of his forearms where he'd rolled back his sleeves. The man definitely had great arms. And the fact that they were half-covered again made her want to remove his shirt-with her teeth.

And there was no denying that the sight of him wearing that Stetson did weird things to her pulse rate. The way it shadowed the upper part of his face, obscuring his eyes, yet giving her an unimpeded view of his beautiful mouth-a mouth he most definitely knew how to use-lent him an unnervingly predatory air that kicked up her temperature a good ten degrees.

Removing his hat, he set it on the empty seat next to him, then skimmed his fingers through his thick, dark hair. His gaze roamed over her with an appreciation that zoomed a feminine tingle right down to her toes. Good grief, he had a way of looking at her that made her feel absolutely beautiful. Feminine. And desirable. Reaching out, he captured her hand, then pressed a warm kiss in her palm. "You did it again, and I've got to know how."

She didn't have a clue what she'd done, but based on his heated expression, she was damn glad she'd done it. "How I did what?"

"Managed to get yourself so gorgeous in less than half an hour."

Humph. It might not have taken her long to get ready in the employee locker room, but before leaving her house this morning, she'd agonized over what outfit to bring-something she never did. After trying on a dozen different things, she'd finally decided upon a simple turquoise sundress and matching sandals. The sleeveless dress was fitted on the top, dipped low in the back, and flared into a full skirt that ended several inches above her knees. Of course, he didn't need to know she'd fretted and worried over what to wear as if they were attending a state dinner at the White House.

She smiled across at him. "I've never been the spend-an-hour-getting-ready type. I wear more sunscreen than makeup, and I gave up long ago trying to tame my hair since it does whatever it wants no matter how much I fuss with it. With the heat and humidity here in Florida, in order to keep my sanity, I've become pretty low maintenance. What you see is what you get."

He touched his tongue to the center of her palm. "Promise?"

The waitress suddenly appeared at the table, sparing Lexie the need to reply, which was probably just as well since his question and the touch of his tongue had rendered her mute. While Josh ordered beer, wings and nachos, Lexie nodded her assent and took several much needed deep breaths. Good grief, at this rate, with the way he affected her breathing, she'd hyperventilate before their drinks arrived.

She glanced up at their waitress, and noticed that the young woman was staring at Josh with an odd expression, one that almost seemed to border on awe. Not that Lexie could blame her-he was pretty awe-inspiring. But really, this woman was being just a tad obvious.

Josh, however, appeared oblivious, and handed her the menus with a friendly smile, then returned the full wattage of his attention back on Lexie.

"So tell me," he said, recapturing her hand, "is what I see really gonna be what I get? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Miss Lexie, you look so hot in that dress, Buffalo Pete is going to have to take the batteries out of his smoke alarms." His eyes again wandered over her. "How is it that a gal like you has remained unattached for a year? I can only figure there's something wrong with the men around here-sunstroke or hit on the head with coconuts or something."

Warmth spread through her at his compliment. "My energies have been focused on things other than my social life. But I've managed to work in a few dates, compliments of my friend Darla who keeps trying to fix me up. Disasters, all of them." She looked toward the ceiling and shook her head. "Yes, I'm quite the expert on first dates. Unfortunately, I know next to nothing about second dates."

"This is our second date, and you're doing just fine."

"I suspect you're just easy to please."

"Actually, I'm extremely choosy."

"Besides, we're not really dating."

His brows shot upward. "No? Where I come from, this is called a date."

"Well, I suppose technically this is a date, but I wouldn't say we're dating."

"What would you say we're doing?"

There was something in his tone, in the underlying seriousness, watchfulness, lurking behind the playfulness that set up a fluttering in her stomach. "Well, the very temporary nature of our… arrangement… places it more in the category of a… fling."

He studied her for several seconds with an unreadable expression, and she found herself holding her breath. But then he said, "I see. I suppose you're right."

For reasons she couldn't explain and refused to examine, his agreement disappointed her.

Oh, come on, Lexie. What did you expect him to say? That he'd chuck his life in Manhattan, Montana, and stay here so you could date?

His fingers lightly caressed the length of hers, recalling her attention. "So tell me about one of these disastrous first dates."

"Ugh. They were all bad. But the worst was this past winter." She leaned forward and confided, "He had this weird breast fetish."

"I hate to break this to you, sweetheart, but lots of guys do."

"Not my breasts. His breasts. He kept touching them, feeling and pinching them. Like he was tuning in the knobs on an old-fashioned radio. He wanted me to suck on them."

"Well, him wanting you to suck them isn't that weird."

"We were on the dance floor at his company's holiday party."

"Oh. That's weird."

She shook her head. "Being with my ex for so long, I was out of practice in the dating pool. But every time I attempted to dip my toe back in, I found myself surrounded by sharks and other assorted bottom feeders. I finally decided it wasn't worth the hassle-at least until someone who seemed normal happened along."

A slow smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "So I guess I seemed normal, huh?"

"Well, at least you don't have 'pyscho' stamped on your forehead. And we've been here a good ten minutes without you asking me to suck on your boobs."

"Night's still young."

She shot him a stern look, then added, "And you haven't asked me to bungee jump, shoot the Amazon, or swim with the alligators. Yeah, you seem normal enough."

"Well, there's no denyin' I'm glad I happened along. But what's this about bungee jumping and alligators? More first-date disasters?"

"No. I was referring to my ex-fiancé. I'm afraid he was something of a daredevil."

"He swam with alligators?"

"Yup. Wrestled them, too. And dove off cliffs. Jumped out of airplanes. Mountain climbed. Surfed during hurricanes. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. He was a total adrenaline junkie. Made Evil Knievel look like a preschool act."

"And he broke things off with you because you wouldn't join him in his crazy adventures?"

"No, I broke off with him because I couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't stand spending any more nights in the emergency room. Couldn't handle my heart stopping every time the phone rang because I knew the next phone call would be the one from the police telling me he was dead. Or paralyzed. He tried, he really did, for me, to confine his adventures to less dangerous activities, but within a month he was miserable. And that made me miserable. So he went back, with a vengeance. Won some regional competitions in a variety of extreme sports-nearly killing himself in the process. When he fell in with a lifestyle that included other women, I couldn't tolerate it any longer."

"If he wasn't your type, why'd you get engaged to him?"

"When we first started dating, then fell in love, he wasn't so… intense. He was sweet and thoughtful. But as his thirtieth birthday approached, he went through some sort of early midlife crisis. He took on increasingly reckless, dangerous adventures-as if he had to prove something to himself. I loved him, but I knew he'd never change. He'd always be wanting, needing, searching for the next challenge, while I'd always be worried and filled with dread. Success changed him, and once the womanizing started, that was it. For both our sakes, I let him go."

"Do you still love him?" he asked quietly.

"No. I pray for his safety, but I've never regretted breaking our engagement." A self-conscious laugh pushed past her lips. "And that's no doubt more about me than you ever wanted to know."

"Actually, that doesn't even break the surface of what I'd like to know about you."

His intense look arrowed fire down to her toes, and she forced herself to keep the conversation light, not to read too much into his words or expression. "Well, that's all you get to know for now 'cause it's your turn. How come a guy who looks like you doesn't have a girlfriend? Or do you have one?"

He lifted a brow, and said in a cool voice, "I don't have a girlfriend. I'm not the sort of man who would have a fling if there was someone waiting at home for me."

Heat rushed into her face at her obvious faux pas. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that men who look like you are usually attached."

"I am completely unattached."

"Never been married?"

"Never even come close."

Hmm. Clearly commitment-phobic. Typical. As if he'd read her thoughts, he said, "Not because I'm afraid of commitment. I've just never met the right woman. And in my line of work, with all the traveling, it's pretty hard to maintain a steady relationship." He chuckled. "I've had my fair share of bad first dates, too."

Confusion tugged her brows down. "Traveling? Where do cowboys travel to? Other ranches?"

Wariness entered his eyes, and he scraped his free hand through his hair. "Well, actually, I haven't been doin' much ranching the past few years. I've spent the bulk of my time-"

The waitress's arrival cut off his words and Lexie's imagination ran wild. What had he been doing? Something involving traveling. Great. He probably worked for the CIA, going undercover to unearth crimes in America 's heartland. Probably got shot at on a daily basis. Or maybe he was a pilot-and had three wives in different cities around the globe.

Or maybe he's simply a nice, decent man, who, incredible as it may seem, is single, heterosexual, and interested in you.

As the waitress set their drinks and plates of food on the table, Lexie couldn't help but again notice that she was staring at Josh as if he were a succulent morsel and she was starving. When she'd laid down the last dish, she said in a breathless rush, "You're Josh Maynard. I'd recognize you anywhere."

Lexie's brows crept up in surprise. Oh, boy. Hopefully this woman didn't recognize Josh from the FBI's Most Wanted poster at the post office.

Josh smiled at the young woman and stuck out his hand. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Josh Maynard. Nice to meet you, Miss-?"

Lexie feared the girl might go down like a tenpin as she clasped Josh's hand. "Baker. Vickie Baker. Ohmigod. I told Sally and the other girls it was you, but they didn't believe me. Can I have your autograph?"

"I'd be honored, Vickie. 'Fraid I don't have a pen, though."

"I have one." She yanked her apron askew in her zeal to remove it from her pocket. A frown creased her forehead. "But all I have is my order pad to write on. Would you wait while I get a decent piece of paper?"

"I'll be right here."

Vickie gushed out another, "Ohmigod," then sped away. Josh turned to Lexie with a sheepish grin. She stared at him for several seconds until she located her voice.

"Okay, so what are you, a country singing star?"

"No. Remember how I mentioned last night that I'd done some rodeo?"

"Yes. That's how you got your scar."

"Right. Well, truth of the matter is, I've spent a fair amount of time on the rodeo circuit, and managed to make a bit of a name for myself."

"What's a 'fair amount of time'?"

"I rode some in high school and college, but except for that year doing research, the rodeo is how I've made my living since college."

"And you're how old now?"

"Thirty-four."

"And I'm guessing that since Vickie recognized you and gushed over you as if Mel Gibson and Brad Pitt had just strolled in, you did a little more than make a 'bit' of a name for yourself."

He shrugged. "I won a few."

"A few what? Blue ribbons?"

"World championships."

Her eyes widened. "So you're some sort of rodeo celebrity?"

"I suppose. In certain circles." He flashed her a grin. "But hey, how famous can I be? You'd never heard of me."

"Maybe because I know squat about the rodeo."

"I'd be happy to tell you anything you might want to know."

"Why didn't you mention this before now?" His gaze searched hers. "It hadn't really come up in conversation. I retired from the circuit a few months ago. And to tell you the truth, it was nice to be with someone who didn't know. Who didn't make a fuss about it."

An image of adoring female fans "making a fuss" over Josh flashed in Lexie's mind, followed by the taunting phrase "been there, done that." "Does the rodeo have groupies-like rock and roll bands?"

"Groupies, fans, corporate endorsers," he said.

Any further elaborations he might have planned to make were cut off by the arrival of Vickie and three other young waitresses.

"I told you it was him," Vickie said with a smug grin to her cohorts. She turned to Josh. "This is Sally, Trish and Amy."

Josh nodded at the women and smiled. "Nice to meet you, ladies. And this is Lexie."

All four women said, "Hey," in greeting, but their attention was focused on Josh with the sort of zeal a jewel thief would bestow upon the Hope diamond.

"I told Ben, the bartender, that you were here," Vickie said, "and he about split a gut. He's holed up in the boss's office, printin' off some pictures of you from the Internet so you can sign 'em and we can hang 'em behind the bar."

One of the other women-Lexie believed it was the one named Amy-craned her neck around. "Are you wearing one of your All-Around buckles, Josh?" she asked in a breathless voice.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Oo-hh! Can we see it?"

"Sure." He scooted his chair out, then stood. Lexie noted that four pairs of female eyes zeroed in like laser beams on his big belt buckle. And all four women looked as if they'd like to polish that big brass buckle-with their tongues.

With a flip of his wrist, he removed the buckle and handed it to Amy who accepted the shiny piece as if it were the Holy Grail. The four women crowded around, oohing and aahing. Josh shot Lexie a sheepish grin and mouthed "Sorry." She waved her hand, indicating it was no problem, then she simply sat back and watched, half amazed, half amused, as he proceeded to charm the women with several rodeo anecdotes while signing autographs for them. Ben the bartender joined the group, Internet print-out pictures in hand, and Lexie watched Josh scrawl his name across images of himself atop huge, bucking Brahman bulls.

Her stomach flipped at the eye-widening images in those photos, and she gave herself a mental slap on the forehead. Good grief, so much for meeting a man who wasn't another adrenaline junkie! She could sum up what was depicted on those printouts in two words: in sane. The thought stilled her. Yes, it was insane. And dangerous. And based on the behavior of these waitresses, woman clearly flocked around him like geese. Good Lord, he was just like Tony.

But did it really matter? No, of course not. She wasn't going to marry him. She wasn't even dating him!

He was temporary. A fling. A way to regain her confidence and to ease herself back into the singles scene, and as an added bonus, to pick up some extra money for teaching him on the side. It didn't matter that he'd spent years being tossed onto the ground by two-ton beasts, or that women hung on him like mold on cheese. Her heart was not involved. Yup, everything was now settled back into its proper perspective.

It wasn't long before curious patrons started looking toward the group gathered around their table and came over to check out what was happening. Soon a crowd had formed, men and women alike, all anxious to get an autograph and to shake Josh's hand. He was unerringly polite and patient, chatting, signing, even posing for pictures with several people who had cameras with them. He frequently squeezed Lexie's hand, smiling at her in an apologetic way, but she assured him she was fine. He introduced her to the crowd as "his friend" Lexie, and she noted that several women in the crowd raked their gazes over her in a way that indicated they'd like to take her out back and fling her in the Dumpster.

She couldn't help but admire his attitude toward all these strangers. He was charming and friendly, but even though, in spite of her presence, a number of the women flirted outrageously with him-what was she, invisible?-Josh remained merely friendly and polite in return, not rising to any of the overtures, innuendos or invitations issued to him. She couldn't deny she appreciated the courteous gesture. It definitely wasn't the way Tony would have handled a similar situation.

After he'd signed an autograph for everyone who wanted one, and Vickie had shooed off the crowd, saying, "Okay, let's leave the poor man to his evening," he turned to Lexie.

"I'm sorry that took so long, but I hate to disappoint fans. They're a loyal group, and without them, I wouldn't have had a job."

"Please, don't apologize. I enjoyed watching you." She shook her head. "It's like being out with a movie star. That one man referred to you as the Michael Jordan of rodeo!"

He shrugged. "A reporter called me that once, and after the media picked it up, it sort of stuck."

Leaning forward, she looked into his eyes. "That entire thing was amazing, but what I find most amazing of all is how modest you are about your accomplishments."

"I can't deny I'm proud of them, but I guess I don't talk about them much, especially away from the circuit. If I talk about it with other cowboys, it's business. If I talk about it with anyone else, it seems like braggin'."

"Certainly no one could blame you-you have plenty to brag about."

He reached out and clasped both her hands. "Let me tell you something. The first few years I was on the circuit, I played it for all it was worth. I was young, talented, and I enjoyed all the perks that came with winning-including the adoration. But the more I won, the more my celebrity grew, and it eventually got to the point where I didn't know if someone liked me for me-or because of my fame.

"I stayed with the rodeo because I love it. Love the challenge and competition. But I realigned my priorities, and a few years ago I took a big step backward from the 'fame' side of it. I'm grateful for the fan support and I'll always take the time to chat or sign an autograph. But I have to admit, it didn't bother me one bit that you didn't know who I was."

"Does that mean I shouldn't ask for your autograph?" she teased.

He slipped his hand under the table, then ran it up her thigh. "I can think of a few places I'd like to sign my name on you."

And she could think of a few more. "Why did you retire?"

"It was time. I'd accomplished everything I'd set out to-even more. Besides, my body couldn't take it much longer. My dad had died, leaving me solely responsible for the ranch we'd bought together…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged. "Like I said, it was time."

"I heard one man ask you if you planned to come out of retirement to 'even the score.' What did he mean?"

"He was referring to my last competition. I came in second place to Wes Handly, one of my biggest rivals."

"Which you didn't like."

"Can't say I did. Not that Wes didn't deserve to win. He's a good man and he outrode me. It was just hard to go out that way."

"So, would you come out of retirement?"

"Nope. I've hung up my spurs for good."

A sense of relief she didn't want to feel or examine eased through her. But a small inner voice whispered, Yeah, and Michael Jordan retired for good, too. Several times. Oh, yeah, it was a very good thing that her heart wasn't involved in this fling. Fun, wild and temporary.

Her gaze fell to their plates of uneaten food. "I think our hot wings are way cold."

"Would you like me to order a fresh batch?"

She shook her head. "Why don't we have Vickie wrap these up, then we can reheat them." She raised her gaze to his. "At my place."

His eyes darkened and his fingers tightened around hers. "That's an invitation I'd be an idiot to turn down."

"And we both know you're one of those smart-guy chemical engineers."

"Ah. So you're only interested in my mind."

"Not exactly." She allowed her gaze to wander over him in a very suggestive way. "Actually. I was thinking we could play a little game."

"Mmm. You know I like games. What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking we could play Ice Cream."

"Can't say I'm familiar with it. How do you play?"

"I lick. You melt."

He went perfectly still, smoke all but emanating from his eyes. "Let's go."