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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?"