Delores Fossen - Truly, Madly, Briefly - Truly, Madly, Briefly / Tried And True

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.