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.
Aidan was still aroused and hoped like the devil she wouldn’t notice. Of course, only blindness, paralysis or virginal naiveté could have prevented her from noticing something like that.
“It’s the Austrian crystal on the earring that’s actually caught,” she continued. “I think I can—”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, Aidan glanced at her. Except it didn’t stay a glance. Their gazes connected—and turned into a full-fledged stare.
“You wear boxers,” she mumbled. But then her eyes widened to the size of turkey platters. “Ohmigosh. I didn’t mean to look. Or to say that out loud.”
He knew the feeling.
“I mean, it’s no big deal,” she babbled. “It’s just there’s a poll making the rounds. Most people in town thought you were into briefs.”
“There’s a poll about my choice of underwear?” Aidan asked.
She nodded and swallowed rather noisily. “Last I heard, most people figured you for a Naughty Guy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh.” She blushed. “That’s one of Boxers or Briefs’ products. Item 451A. A classy traditional-cut faux silk brief in nontraditional colors. It has an ad slogan that I’d rather not mention if you don’t mind.”
Aidan couldn’t help it. He had to smile. So did Bobbie, eventually.
Man, did she ever smile.
This was not good. Bobbie looked centerfold-sexy with that smile and her hair tumbling around her face. Her mouth was slightly damp, too.
Mercy, he couldn’t be thinking about kissing her. He just couldn’t be. This Twango-whatever idea, the one he didn’t want, was all for show. A faux relationship with faux kisses and faux feelings.
Too bad the heat stirring in his body didn’t feel so frickin’ faux.
It felt like a blazing inferno.
Aidan shook his head, hoping to clear it. It didn’t work. Nothing cleared, especially the sudden, urgent ache he had brewing below the waist.
Ah, heck.
He didn’t want that part of his body to get in on this. His mouth was already thinking things that were way out of line, but those thoughts were G-rated compared to all the stupid ideas that brainless part of him could suggest.
“Uh, Bobbie.” He’d just tell her to slap him, to make it a good hard one so it’d knock some sense into him.
“Yes?”
But she didn’t ask it like a question. It sounded more like an invitation. Of course, that was the opinion of that brainless part of him below the waist. Aidan could pretty much discount any interpretation it came up with.
He felt his head lower. Tried like the devil to stop it. Couldn’t. His eyes were already trained on her mouth. On her sweet, warm mouth.
Aidan couldn’t remember ever wanting a mouth this much. It was stupid to want it. Wrong. And reckless. Heck, after his earlier experience with her, it might even be hazardous to his health.
His head still dipped lower.
He decided to hope for a miracle because that was the only thing that stood a chance of stopping him now.
Apparently, he was about to kiss Bobbie Fay Callahan. And he was about a hundred percent certain that there’d be nothing faux about it.
4
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SHE WAS ABOUT to kiss Aidan O’Shea. Bobbie was too fuzzy-headed to think of why she shouldn’t be doing that. At the moment, it seemed right. It felt right, too. Of course, with him this close, making love with him on the kitchen table suddenly seemed right.
“Uh,” she got out.
She should stop this. This would complicate things that were already too complicated. However, with his mouth only a fraction of an inch away, all Bobbie could manage was another “Uh.”
“Uh,” he repeated.
So, they were both past the point of