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

He cleared his throat again. “You travel often?”

“No.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I rarely go anywhere because I work six days a week. That’s why it’s an obsession—I only get to dream about it. I guess you’ve been a lot of places, huh?”

“Some. I joined the law-enforcement exchange two years ago. The first place they sent me was London to work at Scotland Yard.”

A wistful, longing look glazed her eyes. “Ohh. London. I suppose you’ve been to Hawaii, too?”

He nodded. And nodded again when she asked about Italy and France.

“You are so lucky,” she concluded. “The closest I get to places like that are my travel magazines. A pitiful substitute, I can tell you.”

She stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Not the best maneuver. Of course, she probably didn’t know that it hiked up her top so he could now see her stomach. Not just her stomach though. Her navel.

And it was pierced.

Hmmm. For some strange reason, he found that intriguing. And sexy. It reminded him of things best forgotten. Things that involved slow, wet, lingering kisses in the general region of her navel.

Aidan was forced to clear his throat once again. If he did much more of that, Bobbie would think he was coming down with a cold.

He was about to tell her the Twango-Drifter Plan was a no-go and get the heck out of there, but the lights suddenly went off, plunging them into total darkness.

“Sorry. This happens all the time,” she assured him. “There’s a flashlight in the kitchen. I’ll get it.”

He heard fumbling around when Bobbie walked into the adjoining room. Aidan also heard when she bumped into something.

“Darn it,” she mumbled.

She repeated that when she bumped into something else, adding some “shoot’s” and “blast’s.” Apparently, Bobbie didn’t have good night vision. Of course, it was so dark that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

Another bumping sound sent him in search of her. “Need any help?”

Aidan stuck out his hands like Frankenstein to feel his way around.

“I know I have a flashlight in the drawer somewhere. Now, if I could just find the drawer,” he heard her say—right before he bumped into her. As bumps went, it was probably the best one he’d ever had. His Frankenstein hands were suddenly filled with her breasts.

“Oh!” she gasped.

Aidan said an entirely different kind of oh. It sounded more like a beached whale’s groan. Her cute little breasts fit perfectly in the palms of his hands. Touching them, however, was a big no-no.

He snatched his hands away and stepped to the side. “Sorry about that.”

She probably was sorry too, but unfortunately Bobbie stepped in the same direction he did. This time, his lowering hands skimmed over her waist. And the skimming didn’t stop there either. Their middles swished against each other. Man, did they swish. As swishes went, it was a prizewinner.

“Don’t move,” she demanded.

Aidan was sure he’d misunderstood her. They were touching from waist to kneecaps. Surely, she didn’t approve of that. His body did though. In fact, his body was rather pleased with the fact that it had Bobbie plastered against it. It was obvious he’d have to have a man-to-man talk with his body.

“My earring,” she explained. “You’re caught on it. Don’t move. It’ll hurt.”

He was nowhere in the vicinity of her earlobes. “Excuse me?”

“The earring in my navel—it’s caught on your shirt or something. Please don’t move.” He didn’t have to see her face to know there was a frown on it. Aidan could hear it in her voice. “It’s something my friend, Crystal, talked me into last month for my twenty-eighth birthday. Needless to say, it was a stupid idea. Then, the skin closed around the earring, and I can’t get the darn thing out.”

Aidan eased his hand between them and encountered the snagged earring. And some female flesh. Bobbie’s stomach was soft and firm at the same time. Best not to dwell on it though. Best not to dwell on anything that made his body feel like an overly productive furnace.

“It’s caught on my belt,” he let her know.

“Can you untangle it?”

Probably, but not without feeling around a lot. His body was about to volunteer him for the job, but Aidan vetoed it. His body had no vote here. It was already making some pretty bad suggestions.

“Your hands are smaller,” he answered. Which probably didn’t have a thing to do with anything, but it was the only semi-plausible reason he could come up with. “Why don’t you try?”

She did. With a vengeance. Bobbie stuck her hand between them as if she had no plans whatsoever to encounter him along the way. And she encountered him all right. Her agile fingers slid against his chest, stomach and even slightly lower—to the fly on his jeans.

All that encountering would have been okay—maybe—if he hadn’t been stirring like crazy beneath that fly.

“Flashlight,” he managed. “It’ll make this easier.”

Or at least it might get his eyes uncrossed.

Bobbie made a sound of agreement and reached around behind him to get to the drawer. Not the best position for them to be in. Now, all of her was plastered against all of him. Breasts. Stomach.

And most especially, other things.

The torment didn’t stop there either. Aidan could feel her warm breath on his neck. He could smell the scent of soap on her skin. That wasn’t usually a turn-on for him, but it apparently was now. Soon, he’d have to beg for mercy.

Or beg to have sex with her.

Aidan remembered who he was with—Bobbie. Nope, it’d have to be begging for mercy. There was no way he could become involved with her. She was one tempting morsel that he intended to leave on the proverbial plate of life.

She fumbled for several moments. Wiggled. And otherwise nudged and rocked. “Got it,” she announced.

Aidan was so worked up that it took him a while to realize she meant the flashlight. She clicked it on, and golden light sprayed between them. He could hope that she wouldn’t notice that their little bump-and-grind session had caused some changes in his body. Of course, she was definitely close enough to feel it if she moved just slightly to his right.

Part of him—a disgusting vile part—very much wanted her to move to his right.

And wiggle back and forth a little.

“Darn it,” Bobbie mumbled.

Heck! Had he said that wiggle part out loud? He hoped not. He didn’t stand a chance of coming up with a plausible explanation for it.

“What?” Aidan asked, his voice cracking.

“My navel ring’s not tangled on your belt but on some loose threads on the loop of your jeans. I don’t think I can get us apart. I’ll have to use the scissors.”

She might as well have said she was about to boil him in rancid snake oil. There was no way he wanted Bobbie near a certain part of his temporarily enlarged anatomy with a pair of scissors.

“Let me try,” he insisted.

The lights flared on. It wasn’t exactly the best time for that to happen. Now, he’d actually have to look at her while he tried to disjoin them.

She chuckled softly. “Weird things like this always happen to me.”

That wasn’t hard to believe. Bobbie definitely had a Calamity Jane, I Love Lucy thing going on. Still, this had to be a first. “You’ve caught your navel ring on a man’s jeans before?”

“No, but once when I was a teenager, I got my braces caught on some deep-pile carpeting. Don’t ask for details.” She put the flashlight aside and flattened her hand on his chest. “Lean back just a little, and let me see if I can do something about this. Hmmm.”

Bobbie stared down at the bodily connection.