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.

      Just as Aidan got closer to Bobbie, Crystal hurled a Frisbee in his direction. He caught it, barely.

      Crystal hurried to him, an enormous wad of pink gum cracking in her mouth. “I’ll make this quick. During the past week, I’ve been watching Bobbie and you get closer and closer. I like you, and I think you have a whole lot of potential for making her happy. I also think you two make a hot match. But if you hurt her, I will get even, no ifs, ands or buts about it.”

      “But—”

      “It won’t be pretty,” Crystal continued as if he hadn’t tried to speak. “I’m talking about a bikini wax that starts at your head and goes to the bottom of your feet. It’ll get particularly nasty and painful in areas that are most sensitive to you. Got that, O’Shea?”

      “Yes, I do. And I can promise you that I don’t want to hurt Bobbie,” he simply answered. In fact, he didn’t plan to get involved with Bobbie in such a way that hurting was even an option.

      “Good intentions don’t count here. Hurt her like that larvae-headed Jasper did, and I start heating the wax. A huge vat of it.”

      And with that bizarre threat, Crystal snatched the Frisbee from him and walked away.

      “A problem with Crystal?” Bobbie asked when Aidan joined her. She clicked off the phone and tossed it aside on the blanket.

      “No.” But then Aidan caught sight of her outfit. There was the problem. Man, he might have to classify her clothes as deadly weapons. She wore denim shorts. The operative word being short. And a tiny little knit flowered top that not only accented her breasts but also showed a couple of inches of her midriff.

      She smiled, caught onto his hand and had him sit next to her. “It looks like rain, but it’s still a nice day for a picnic, don’t you think?”

      Aidan nodded. It was an even nicer day for planting some wet kisses on her stomach.

      He mentally kicked himself. No sexy thoughts today, especially after that waxing threat from Crystal. Besides, with their luck, he’d get his tongue caught on Bobbie’s navel ring, and it’d require major surgery to get them untangled. Then everyone in town would know about his sudden, unexplainable navel fetish.

      She put her mouth right next to his ear. “Everyone in town is here,” she whispered. Her hot, cinnamony breath brushed against his cheek and neck. “After today, I doubt you’ll get another Beeping Tom report.”

      No, but he might have to deal with a permanent state of arousal.

      Heck.

      Why did he have this reaction to Bobbie? Why couldn’t his brain figure out that an entanglement, any entanglement, with her would be too high-maintenance? For better or worse, she had her roots firmly planted, and firmly planted was the very thing Aidan planned to avoid.

      “I just got my latest copy of Travel-or-Bust Monthly.” Bobbie grinned and held up the glossy magazine for him to see. She began to flip through the pages. “There’s an article about Boston, and they talk about the swan boats in the Public Gardens. Sounds like a blast.”

      He smiled at her enthusiasm. “They are.”

      “Listen to this,” she continued. She wiggled closer until their heads, shoulders and hips were pressed together. “‘Glide through an urban oasis and feel your troubles slip away. Although a short ride, this trip through a sun-dappled lagoon will carry you to another time. Another place. All you have to do is relax and let the sun and city caress you.’”

      “Caress, huh?” Aidan repeated.

      Not the best choice of words when his mind was on other types of caresses.

      “Afternoon, Bobbie and Aidan,” Winston called out. He was dressed in an Old West getup and was carrying an enormous mackerel-shaped watermelon on his shoulder. Five women of varying ages were following him, apparently vying for his attention. One of the females was using a walker and was doing her best to keep up.

      “The seed-spitting contest is about to start,” Winston added. “Don’t miss it.”

      Bobbie gave her uncle a distracted wave and got back to the article. “It talks about the museums and the shops. You are so lucky to have been born there.”

      “I guess. But a lot of people would think you were lucky to be born here in Liffey.”

      Her gaze met his. She blinked. And paused. “Do you really think I’m lucky?”

      “Well, Liffey’s not a big city, but it’s thriving. And it’s, uh, quaint in a non-touristy sort of way.” At that exact moment, her Uncle Quincy hurried past them. He had a ferret on a leash. A ferret wearing a pair of tiny raccoon-print boxers complete with a fake bushy tail. “Well, it’s quaint, or something.”

      What was left of Bobbie’s smile evaporated. “Yeah. Or something.”

      So,