Truly, Madly, Briefly

5

The Paddy Wrangler: Catalog Item 216B. A bottom-shaping, poly-padded enhanced boxer for the man who likes to sit tall in the saddle. Fringed, leather-look front pouch! Guaranteed to give you a shapelier, manlier posterior or your money back. Available in Bodacious Bay and Pert Palomino.

AIDAN CHECKED the phone again. It was working just fine. Ditto for his pager, the fax machine, his e-mail account and the bell on the door. They were all silent. Completely, utterly silent.

It was nothing short of a blessed miracle.

Here it was ten o’clock on a Wednesday morning, and there’d been only one kitty rescue request and only one plea for a flat-tire repair. The only other call had come from the mayor, who merely wanted to invite him to the town picnic, wranglers’ barbecue and watermelon thump.

Whatever the heck that was.

But even with the picnic invitation, claims on his time were down by more than ninety percent.

Aidan nearly shuddered at the thought, but was it possible that the Twango-Drifter Plan was a success after only forty-eight hours?

He sank down into his chair to contemplate that and read over the background reports he’d requested on his main suspects for the underwear theft. The fact that he was actually able to contemplate it in silence said loads about his situation. It was working, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

The plan had worked. Thank heaven—as, in halleluiah.

The plan had worked. Oh, mercy—as in, he was in deep trouble. The kind of trouble that could only create more trouble.

That near-kiss a couple of nights ago in Bobbie’s kitchen had clanged bells the size of boulders in his head. Bells that warned him to put some serious miles between him and her. Still, there was immense pleasure in finally having some peace and quiet.

If he stuck with the plan, however, it’d no doubt call for even more kitchen encounters. Even more navel-ring sightings. And yep, even more near French kisses. Which couldn’t happen if he hoped to keep his life uncomplicated. But maybe, just maybe, he could have his cake and eat it too if he could stay away from Bobbie’s mouth.

And take a lot of cold showers.

The door flew open, and Aidan braced himself for a kitty-rescue request. But this was no kitty owner. He got to his feet and came face-to-face with jilting Jasper Kershaw. From the surly expression on the man’s face, it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t pleased about something. Aidan didn’t have to guess about that displeasure either. After all, Jasper had seen him at Bobbie’s house.

Jasper aimed an indignant, wagging finger in Aidan’s direction. “It’s all over town about your boxer shorts,” he accused.

Okay, of all the things that Aidan thought Jasper might say, that wasn’t one of them. Not even close. “Is there some sort of weird city ordinance that prevents me from wearing boxers?”

Jasper’s Adam’s apple began to bob at the same zealous speed as that wagging finger. “Quit playing Mr. Innocent with me. You know what I mean.”

“Uh, not really.” And even more, Aidan wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I heard it from Maxine who heard it from Henrietta who heard it straight from Crystal that Bobbie knew you wore boxers. I don’t want to know how Bobbie came about that little tidbit, but I’m here to tell you that she’s hands off to you and anybody else.”

Contemplating that chain of communication, Aidan scratched his chin. He didn’t have to contemplate long. “I’m not exactly comfortable with you mentioning my boxers in the same breath that you mention ‘little tidbit.’ And I doubt Bobbie’s comfortable with you declaring her to be hands off.”

“Bobbie doesn’t know what she wants, and I won’t have you and your boxers confusing the situation, you got that? That means you back off so I can mend some fences with my future wife.”

That idiotic-sounding ultimatum didn’t set well with Aidan, and he’d already geared up to send this dense chowderhead on his finger-wagging way when he spotted Bobbie crossing Main Street. Her eyes widened, then narrowed to slits when she looked in the window of the office.

“Jasper,” she snarled, throwing open the door. She stepped inside and propped her hands on her hips.

Man, she looked good.

Aidan wanted to concentrate just on the riled expression on her face, but that was hard to do with her wearing that well-above-the-knee pink-lemonade-colored jacket and skirt. It gloved and hugged her trim body and made her legs seem to go on forever. To his suddenly parched mouth, she truly looked like a long, tall drink…of something.

Whoa.

Not good.

Aidan gave his head a hard shake and threatened it with a good wall-pounding if it kept up thoughts like those. It wasn’t a smart idea to think of Bobbie and satisfaction of thirst, any kind of thirst, in the same sentence.

“What’s going on here, Jasper?” Bobbie demanded.

He hitched a thumb in Aidan’s direction. “I’m here to tell Mr. Paddy Wrangler boxers that you’re off limits, hands off and otherwise engaged—to me!”

Aidan almost intervened. Almost. But that fiery look that shot through Bobbie’s eyes made him realize she wanted to fight this battle herself.

“Aidan has no need for the Paddy Wrangler,” she said, her voice low and edgy. Bobbie took a slow, calculated step toward Jasper. “His posterior is fine without enhancements. More than fine. It’s so fine that he could be a poster model for the Full Monty.”

Jasper gasped.

“Say what?” Aidan questioned. He wasn’t sure this particular comparison was one he wanted to have applied to his gluteus maximus.

“The Full Monty,” Bobbie repeated without moving her venomous gaze from Jasper. She tapped the toe of her meringue-colored high heels on the tile floor. “‘Catalogue number 233A. See-through-front bikini brief for the man with nothing to hide. Contour-hugging, barely-there backside for a rakish and yet daring display of your manly assets. Available in Exposed Ebony and In-the-Buff Buff.’”

Jasper gasped again. “But you said no man could ever look good in the Full Monty.”

She gave her head an indignant little wobble. “I said that before I met Aidan.”

Touché. One for the lady in pink. Flattered, taken aback and slightly confused, Aidan went to the door and held it open for Jasper to leave.

“This isn’t over, Bobbie,” Jasper insisted. “We’ll talk about it when I pick you up on Sunday afternoon for the picnic and watermelon thump. Maxine will be there, and she’ll keep Deputy Full Monty here occupied while we spend some quality time together.”

Bobbie suddenly looked ready to trim Jasper’s sails. Maybe because he was feeling particular generous—and ornery—Aidan slipped his arm around Bobbie’s waist. “Actually, Bobbie’s going to the town picnic with me.”

“I am?” she questioned.

Aidan nodded. “You are. It’s Sunday afternoon around three.”

After all, he’d already agreed to the picnic, and he didn’t want to have to face Maxine and the other Liffey women alone. He figured Bobbie felt the same about Jasper. So what if it meant they had to play the Twango-Drifter game a little longer? What were a few more days in the grand scheme of things?

And so what if he’d apparently lost his mind?

To add a tad more insult to Jasper’s obvious injury, Aidan leaned in and planted a quick kiss on Bobbie’s glossy mouth.

Hmmm.

Strawberry-flavored lip gloss. It tasted as good as she looked.

“Oh, come on. You don’t fool me,” Jasper concluded. “You’re doing this to make me jealous.”

Bobbie dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Apparently wanting to add some insult of her own, she came up on her toes and gave Aidan an affectionate peck right on the lips.

She pulled back almost immediately, but not before Aidan felt the zap. It was like a mini jolt of saturated electricity from her mouth to his.

Aidan just stared at her. She just stared at him. Had she felt that zap as well?

His heartbeat started to drum in his ears, but even over the drumming, Aidan could hear Jasper drone on about Bobbie doing this only to get back at him.

Bobbie made a little sound of surprise, but it wasn’t surprise that Aidan saw in her eyes. Or even surprise that shaped her mouth when she blew out a strawberry-scented breath.

Nope.

This was something…hot.

Something smoldering.

Something fruity.

Something Aidan suddenly had an overwhelming urge to sample.

“I know you’re just trying to make me jealous,” Jasper repeated.

Without taking his hot gaze from Bobbie, Aidan latched onto Jasper’s shoulder and helped the man outside. He elbowed the door shut.

Aidan watched Bobbie’s eyelids flutter down. At first he didn’t know why she’d done that, but Aidan soon figured it out. He was making a move on her, closing the already miniscule distance between them.

Their lips touched. Breath met breath. He skimmed his hands down her back and edged her closer until their mouths met in full force. She didn’t resist. Bobbie slipped into his arms as if she’d done it a thousand times. And she kissed him. Really kissed him.

Uh-oh.

This was more than zaps. More than jolts. And even more than a bare-all Full Monty. It was a fruity-flavored blast of pure pleasure.

And Aidan felt what was left of his resolve fly straight back to Boston.

“MMM,” Bobbie moaned.

Aidan deepened the kiss, angling his mouth to hers. Bobbie did her own share of deepening and angling. Their tongues met. Fooled around a little. They just continued to fool around until she forgot she needed air to live. Gasping, she pulled away from him.

That’s when reality hit her like a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound Dallas Cowboys’ linebacker.

She’d kissed Aidan! And not just any old ordinary kiss either. A French kiss. Nothing short. Nothing sweet. It’d been lengthy and incredibly, deliciously satisfying. The kiss of a real pro.

Oh boy, she was in trouble.

Aidan didn’t appear to have fared much better. He looked poleaxed, out of breath and a little dizzy.

“Wow. Guess we showed Jasper, huh?” Bobbie commented as casually as she could. Which wasn’t very casual considering she was breathing heavily and trying to lick the taste of Aidan off her lips.

“Yeah, guess we did.” Aidan was doing his own share of heavy breathing.

“Maybe he’ll finally get the message that I’m through with him.”

He nodded. “Maybe. And if this didn’t work, the picnic on Sunday will do the trick for sure.”

She nodded. “It should help you with your kitty rescue woes too since just about everybody in town will be there to see us together.”

Aidan nodded again. “This will help both of us in the long run.”

Bobbie didn’t dare return the nod. She was starting to feel a little like one of those bobblehead dolls. Besides, all the nodding, breathing and bobbling in the world wouldn’t ease the awkwardness—or the startling reality—of the situation. With that kiss, they’d moved well past the faux-pas stage and had done a Full Monty-ish blunder. The only way she could save face was to brush it off as part of their plan to make their lives romance-free.

But she didn’t have time to brush off anything. By the time she managed to gather some of her breath, Aidan had already gathered his.

“Uh. How’d you ever get hooked up with Jasper anyway?” Aidan asked. “He doesn’t really seem your type.”

Small talk. It was a good start while she tried to get her heart rate back under control. Bobbie stepped away from him, hoping a little distance would clear the pea soup in her head. “I blame it on Pavlov’s dog.”

Aidan quit looking uncomfortable long enough to look thoroughly confused. “Beg your pardon?”

“In hindsight, I think Jasper was just a conditioned response like Pavlov’s dog. I used to spend hours staring at all those posters in the window of his dad’s travel agency. Jasper was always there, sandwiched between the Parthenon and the Pyramids. I guess I just started to associate him with all those other feelings of wanderlust.”

“Wanderlust, huh?” Aidan commented. He put some distance between them as well. He went to the other side of the room and gave the visitors’ chairs an unnecessary adjustment. “That’s certainly a powerful stimulus.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, for me it is. And obviously for you too since you spend your life traveling around.” She checked her watch. Why, she didn’t know. Her vision was still too blurred to see the tiny numbers. “Where has the time gone? I really need to get back to the factory.”

“You didn’t say why you dropped by.”

She stopped midway to the door. “Didn’t I? Must have slipped my mind when I saw Jasper here.” And it was continuing to slip her mind.

Bobbie finally snapped her fingers. “The missing Gigolos? That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. My assistant said you stopped by the factory this morning when I was in a conference call with our suppliers.”

“I was just asking a few questions. No one seems to know anything about the merchandise, but I’ll keep digging.” He picked a manila folder from his desk and handed it to her. “I requested background checks on several of your employees. It’s routine procedure.”

Bobbie thumbed through the papers in the file to find the names of all the supervisors and several newly hired warehouse workers. “You think one of these might be our thief?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I want to add Jasper to that list. After all, the underwear vanished the very day he returned to Liffey.”

Bobbie nodded and handed the file back to Aidan. “Good job. Maybe you’ll catch this person before they strike again.” She opened the door. “Don’t worry about picking me up for the picnic. I’ll ride over with my uncles and just meet you at the park.”

“Sure.”

Since there was no way she could hold onto her faux composure a moment longer, she issued an overly perky goodbye and went on her way.

This was the last time she’d play kissy kissy with the studly Aidan. The absolute last. She had to be smart about this. No more Pavlovian conditioned responses. No letting wanderlust get in the way of common sense.

But that left Bobbie with one burning question.

Wanderlust aside, how was she supposed to get rid of this sudden bout of regular lust that she felt for Aidan?

“AIDAN, we’re sure glad to have you with us here in Liffey,” Sheriff Cooper commented. He downed another half cup of coffee and tackled the remainder of his Blue Plate Special—a hamburger just slightly smaller than Aidan’s head and a platter full of thick chili fries.

“I’m glad to be here. And I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Of course, with the volume of food the sheriff had just consumed, that feeling better status might not last much longer. After all, the man had only been out of his sickbed two days.

Both Sheriff Cooper and Aidan sat in the window booth at the Chew and Chow, the tiny but bustling diner on Main Street. Since the sheriff’s return to work, he’d insisted that Aidan join him for the cholesterol-laden lunches that were the diner’s trademark.

“You probably miss all the noise of the city,” the sheriff continued. “I guess you’re used to a little more activity than this, huh?”

Aidan shrugged and sipped his coffee. “It depends. Each assignment is different. Some are quiet like Liffey. Others are nonstop.”

And therein was the lure of his job in a nutshell. For him, different was good. Variety was even better. And in just four short weeks, he’d be gone from Liffey, and the Twango-Drifter Plan—and Bobbie—would be a dimming memory.

Well, probably.

She’d be as much of a dimming memory as he could manage to dim. Too bad he hadn’t had much success in dimming anything when it came to her.

Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see her. Bobbie, in one of those snug little business suits. Bobbie, smiling at him. Bobbie, her mouth poised for him to kiss. And Bobbie, as she made those sounds of pleasure as he did all sorts of things with her.

Of course, that last part was pure imagination sprinkled with some fantasies, but he hadn’t been able to dim those raunchy musings either.

“I’ve been giving all this stolen underwear business some thought,” the sheriff went on, pulling Aidan out of his sprinkles and fantasies. He waved at a couple of elderly ladies who strolled past the window. One of them winked at him, and then at Aidan. “My thoughts have been straying in the direction of Rudy Tate, the floor manager at Boxers or Briefs. Call me old-fashioned, but there’s just something a little unnatural about a man who likes being surrounded by butt-enhancing underwear.”

Aidan nodded. It certainly wasn’t one of his top ten job choices. “Nothing came up on his background check, but I’m looking into his past employment records.”

The sheriff grinned and stuffed some more fries in his mouth. “I figured you’d be right on it. My detective skills are a little rusty since we hadn’t exactly had a real crime here in a dozen years or so, but I’m hoping you’ll put this to bed before your time with us is up.”

Aidan hoped the same thing. And that time was practically ticking away. Four weeks and counting. “What about Maxine Varadore? You think she could have done something like this?”

“It’s a good possibility,” the sheriff agreed. “She’s riled because Bobbie fired her, but from what I heard the woman just couldn’t sew a fly on straight. A man can overlook plenty of things in his Skivvies, but that’s not one of them. Seems Bobbie did us all a service by letting Maxine go.”

Aidan just nodded and moved on to his next suspect. “And then there’s Jasper Kershaw. He’s at the top of my list.”

Sheriff Cooper grinned some more. “Now, you sure that’s your badge talking, or does that have something to do with all the personal attention you’ve been giving Bobbie Fay?”

It seemed a good time to nod again and continue with the business at hand. “What does concern me about this case is that none of the stolen merchandise has surfaced.”

“Oh, it’ll turn up somewhere I’m sure. Hard to keep magenta Gigolos a secret for very long.” The sheriff finished his last French fry and eased out of his side of the booth. “I think I’ll head over to the counter to chat with Esther Lynn. Wanta come?”

Aidan glanced at the woman in question. She had more facial hair than he did and could probably arm-wrestle him into traction. “No thanks. I’ll just stay here and finish up my chili.”

“Suit yourself. I won’t be long.”

With the same easy pace as his drawl, Sheriff Cooper moseyed toward the counter. He’d hardly gotten there when Aidan’s cell phone rang. He unclipped it from his belt and answered it.

“Hi, Aidan. It’s Mom.”

It was one of those good news–bad news sort of deals. He loved his mother dearly, but she never called in the middle of the day unless she had matchmaking on her mind.

Aidan checked the time—something he usually did when he experienced one of her impromptu calls. Just how long would it take for her to let him know that she’d found him the perfect woman?

His mother started the covert attack with some chitchat about the weather in Boston. Aidan listened and watched as the second hand on the clock ticked on. He was betting she couldn’t make it a full minute.

“It’s been muggy…”

The sound of her voice faded when he spotted Bobbie coming out of the bank across the street. Aidan smiled before he could stop himself. Sweet Nantucket, she had on one of those short skirt sets again. Somehow, he had to find a way to make himself immune to her fashion choices.

“By the way,” his mother continued. “Did I mention that my new kick-boxing instructor is a woman? Her name is Tracy Hillman…”

Aidan checked the time. Thirty-nine seconds. His mother was obviously in a hurry today.

He just listened to the droning explanation about the toned and perfect Tracy while he watched the rather toned Bobbie make her way up the street. She stopped to say hello to a couple of people and even stooped down to give Mrs. Fortenberry’s poodle an affectionate rub behind the ears. The poodle looked ready to start drooling. Since Aidan had been on the receiving end of some of Bobbie’s attention, he knew how the pooch felt.