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.