Truly, Madly, Briefly. Delores Fossen
they obviously thought it was.
The full impact of the Twango-Drifter Plan hit Bobbie the moment she turned around to face Aidan.
Oh, my. Oh, my, my, my.
He was certainly an eyeful in those snuggy jeans and crisp white shirt. And here he was. Right in the middle of her entryway—the last place an attractive man should be, since she’d sworn off men for all of eternity.
“I’ll save you some time here,” she started. “My second thoughts are having second thoughts. I figure you’re feeling pretty much the same.”
“I am.” The corner of his mouth lifted. Not a toenail-dissolving grin like Jasper’s. This one made her smile and feel warm and tingly inside.
“It sure seemed like a good idea at the time,” Bobbie continued. “Well, maybe it did. But I caught us both at a weak moment. Now that the phones aren’t ringing and people aren’t pestering us, well, the Twango-Drifter Plan doesn’t seem, um, necessary, does it?”
Aidan no doubt would have agreed, but before he could even get out a word, one of the cats scurried across the windowsill. It clawed its way up the screen and onto the eaves.
Bobbie shook her head. “Just for the record—I don’t expect you to do a kitty rescue.”
He smiled again. And just stood there. Bobbie tried not to look at him. She really tried. But her eyes seemed to have a whole different notion.
She took in everything about him that she didn’t want to notice. The way his dark hair languished against his tanned neck. The little flecks of blue and gray in his luscious green eyes. She probably would have started drooling if the rattling sound hadn’t pulled her out of her Aidan-induced trance.
She glanced behind her. A second cat was making his way up the screen.
Aidan motioned toward the plate-size stain on her skirt. “You might want to take care of that before you attract a bear or something.”
“Of course.” Strange, but she’d almost forgotten about the massage oil. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and change. I won’t be long. Then, we can talk about…well, about our situations.”
Naturally, that would mean coming up with a different plan, or maybe no plan at all. Aidan was a grown man, incredibly grown, and he certainly didn’t need her to fix his problems. Besides, she absolutely, emphatically, positively didn’t want another relationship.
Really.
Once she was safely in the bathroom and had the door closed, she placed her fingertips over the pulse on her neck to verify what she already knew. It was racing. And not just racing either. It was in a full gallop.
So, she did what any other female who had sworn off men would do. Bobbie blamed it on Eidelson’s Sensuous Musk Massage Oil.
AIDAN BLAMED his visit on basic stupidity. And, of course, politeness.
The bane of his existence.
Why he hadn’t ended this fiasco with just a phone call, he didn’t know. But he did know that he had to put this Twango-Drifter Plan to bed in such a way that it didn’t hurt Bobbie’s feelings. Of course, after her comment just moments earlier, it was clear she wasn’t very comfortable with things either. After all, her second thoughts were having second thoughts. You couldn’t get any more unsure than that.
While he waited for Bobbie to finish her shower, he ambled around the living room, glancing at the cheery yellow and lilac décor. There were posters of Big Ben, Mount Rushmore, Limerick Castle and the Grand Canyon. A huge stack of travel magazines lay on the coffee table. Apparently, Bobbie had a bad case of wanderlust.
“It’s an obsession,” he heard her say.
Aidan turned to see her in the doorway. She was barefooted and wore jeans with a cropped T-shirt. There was nothing especially attractive about the outfit, but it seemed to garner his attention. He cleared his throat and forced his attention to garner something else.
“What’s an obsession?” he asked.
“Traveling.” She walked closer, and he caught the scent of her soap. She’d washed her hair as well, and it fell in damp strands against her neck. Like the outfit, it wasn’t especially attractive, but for some reason it was appealing. Appealing in a make-me-squirm sort of way.
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