Truly, Madly, Briefly. Delores Fossen

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      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.

      Bobbie was, well, moving for lack of a better word. No doubt about it. She was like a trim little package of temptation, and all of a sudden, temptation was something he was having a hard time resisting. In fact, such a hard time that he’d begun to consider the unthinkable. Would it be completely stupid for him to test the temptation to see just how far she could tempt him?

      Or something like that.

      It couldn’t be anything serious, of course. Or permanent. But suddenly he was giving some thought to—

      “So, what’d you say?” his mother asked. “How about I invite Tracy over for dinner the next time you’re home?”

      That jarred Aidan back to reality. The hot and steamy fantasies about Bobbie faded into the sunset. That call was just the reminder he needed. He’d adopted his no-rings-attached philosophy for a reason.

      A good reason.

      A reason he had a little trouble recalling when he looked at Bobbie again.

      Oh, yeah. He didn’t want to be tied down by someone else’s game plan for life. No monkeying. No paddy-wrangling. Just living the way he wanted to live.

      “I have to go, Mom,” Aidan insisted.

      He hung up and closed his eyes. He could thank his lucky stars for that much-needed attitude adjustment. Bobbie Callahan was one package of temptation that would just have to stay unopened.

      6

      The Slap Stick: Catalogue Item 333C. Amuse your friends and significant other with this glow-in-the-dark Ruffy the Raccoon cartoon-print boxer. Wait until you see where we’ve put the punch line. Comes with detachable raccoon tail and is available in most sizes.

      AIDAN STOOD in the parking lot and sized up the place. Davy Crockett Park was a zoo. Not literally. But there were enough people and activities that it looked like a huge ant farm gone awry.

      Smoke billowed from several open barbecue pits. There were carnival rides, assorted amusement booths and a couple of people rolling watermelons down a hill. Others were thumping the melons to make music that no one could have possibly found enjoyable. And, of course, there were women. Lots and lots of women.

      Estrogen was heavy in the air.

      Aidan glanced around and, even with all the activity and other females, he spotted Bobbie right away. With a magazine resting against her knees, she sat under a sprawling oak. She seemed engrossed in whatever she was reading, but she was also talking on the tiny phone she had pressed to her ear. He caught a phrase here and there—O-ring thong straps, water-filled wonder pouches and heated bun enhancers. She was probably talking to a supplier.

      Well, he hoped she was.

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