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Standing out in the hot sun for the past three hours had come close to draining him. Joe suspected that was exactly the intent of the reality program’s talent scouts. It served as the first round for weeding out the lesser contestants, separating the starstruck from the serious.

The next few rounds, he had a feeling, were going to be far more grueling.

By the time he got into the shade of the building, he felt as if he’d lost five pounds of water weight. He and the others who were admitted at this point were all given bottled water to quench their thirst. He drank his sparingly. His whole life had been about pacing himself and this was no different.

As the oldest in the family, he’d been born older than the others. More serious than the others. It was his job to set an example, his job to shoulder responsibilities and if, at times, he grew damn weary of his “job,” at other times he realized just how lucky he was to have a family that looked to him for support, that offered support to him those few times he found himself in need. He thought of his mother, trying to ease his burden by keeping the news about the ranch’s reassessment to herself.

There was no way he was going to allow the ranch to be taken from her, he thought.

Joe took in his surroundings. The woman who he’d collided with was still there. By her bearing and manner, he’d already figured out that it would take a lot more than just discomfort to make Theresa Knight voluntarily drop out the way about a hundred or so would-be contestants had before they ever reached the physical fitness center’s red double doors. There was a determination about the woman he recognized. It was the same look he’d seen in his own mirror.

Once inside the building, they were herded into a large communal room, a hundred candidates at a time, to await the first of several interviews with the talent scouts, followed by a battery of endurance tests to see if they had the stamina for the contest.

As he found himself being shuffled from one place to another en masse, he began to understand what cattle went through as they were being herded. He was glad the ranch he’d grown up on raised racehorses.

Not for much longer, he thought ruefully as he staked out a place for himself and sank down to the floor. Not if he couldn’t win this.

Taking another swig from the water bottle he was holding, Joe looked around, trying to get a feel for what was ahead for him. The article Jesse had found had summoned one and all to an old-fashioned test of “grit.” “Grit” didn’t begin to describe the kinds of things he was going to be up against. The only other clue was that they wanted contestants who could hold their own outdoors. And he could do that.

“Scoping out the competition, cowboy?”

He didn’t have to turn around to know that the question came from the woman who was already critical of his choice of music.

“Just getting the lay of the land.” Since she had initiated the conversation, he decided to try to satisfy his own curiosity. “You have any idea what they expect us to actually do in this contest? Exactly what are we up against?”

“Each other.” For a moment, she looked as if she was going to leave it at that. And then, thinking better of her quip, she added, “I heard there’re going to be twenty people, broken up into teams of five. You work with your team and against it.”

That sounded like a direct contradiction. “What does that mean?”

She wondered if this man had any true idea of what he was getting himself into. Most of the people trying out today didn’t. But then, they didn’t have her advantage. Theresa sat down next to him. “It means, cowboy, that only one person, not a team, gets the prize money. You work with your team to beat out the other three teams, then you work for yourself to beat out the other four people in your group, some of whom, if you’re lucky, have already been disqualified by that time.”

He’d never subscribed to the every-man-for-himself theory of operation. “Not exactly the great American way, is it?”

Just how innocent was this guy? He wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes in her old neighborhood. Fairness was seen as a weakness, not a plus. Still, she had to admit that on him, it seemed a little sexy.

But if he was a stickler for being fair, Theresa judged she was going to be able to beat him easily. It was almost a shame, given that he was one of the better-looking specimens of manhood she’d seen here so far. “Sure it is. It’s looking out for number one.”

Joe frowned. “That wasn’t the principle on which this country was built.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, she stared at him. “Where did they find you?”

“They didn’t. I found them. Or Jesse did.” And if it wasn’t that he was convinced that there was no other way to save the ranch, he would have been out of here like a shot. Hell, he would have never been in here to begin with.

“Jessie,” Theresa echoed. “That your significant other?”

“In a manner of speaking.” At least, there was no one else who figured more significantly into his life than Jesse. “Jesse’s my eight-year-old son.”

Was he kidding? What cave had this man come out of? “‘Significant other’ means mate, cowboy, not kid.”

Pausing, Theresa gave the man beside her a long once-over, taking in the fact that even though the man sounded like a throwback to another era, maybe even another planet, he was damn good-looking in a very rugged sort of way. She wondered if he knew what to do with those muscles of his.

And if there was anyone to appreciate them.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she decided. “Is there a Mrs. Cowboy waiting somewhere around here?”

Even after all these months, it was still hard not to think of Sandra in the picture. He could feel the ache forming in his chest even before he said, “I’m a widower.”

The way he said it, he hadn’t been one all that long. Theresa felt a little uncomfortable that she’d intruded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up any bad memories.”

“You didn’t. All my memories of Sandra are good ones. Except for the end,” he added quietly.

Restless, he looked around. At the other end of the large room, people were trickling out through a door one person at a time. Probably to be interviewed. At this rate, he was going to be here until after the county seized his mother’s ranch.

He looked back toward Theresa. “So you don’t know what kind of things they’re going to have us doing?”

She shrugged, her shoulders moving the straps of her white tank top. She moved them back into place. “Hiking, fishing, climbing, things like that. Audiences like to see people sweat.”

He really didn’t care for that part of it. For being on display. But his back was to the wall. “Is the whole thing going to be televised?”

“The best parts. Ratings.” She paused, studying him. She knew a little something about the kinds of people who turned out for these things. And he didn’t fit the category. “Why are you doing this? You don't seem like the type. I mean, you look rugged and all, but you look more like the forest ranger type.”

He didn’t see the contradiction. “Isn’t that what you just said they were looking for?”

“Forest ranger,” she elaborated, “as in working somewhere with a lot of trees and not that many people.”

Joe shrugged, not wanting to get into his real reasons. “I want the prize money.”

She laughed shortly. “Don’t we all?”

Joe crossed his arms before him, taking measure of the woman. She was wearing a white tank top, hiking boots and denim shorts. Her body was taut and sinewy. She was right about him. He generally kept to himself. Questions about other people rarely occurred to him, but they were occurring now, about this feisty, sensual woman. “What would you do with it if you won?”

Theresa’s answer was honest. “I’ve got a personal-training business that could use a jump-start.”

“Is that what you are, a personal trainer?” She certainly had the body to advertise her techniques.

Because she’d grown up the hard way, with failure grasping to pull her down at every turn, she was immediately defensive. “Why? Don’t I look it?”

He held up his hand. “Every inch. But your short fuse could use some work,” he added.

So the quiet cowboy thing was just an act. She’d met guys like him before. “And you’d be just the guy to help me work it, right?”

“No,” he said. His answer caught her off guard. “But you might do well to know that not everything someone says is a challenge.”

“Cooper, Knight, Jones, Conrad, Swartz.” The names were announced over the loud speaker.

Their discussion tabled, Theresa rose to her feet quickly, ready to head out. “Looks like we get to hang out a little longer. Until you wash out,” she added with a grin.

Joe said nothing as he followed her toward the man standing in the doorway with a clipboard in his hand. He saw no point in declaring that he had no intentions of washing out. Actions, he felt, always spoke louder than words.



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