Bodie was supposed to be watching the store front across the street, but his eyes constantly went to the man who was supposedly fixing his car out in front of the establishment. How often had he swept his binoculars towards that man, that tall, slim man with the chestnut curls?

Too often.

His head was beneath the bonnet, but his backside was not. It wiggled deliciously in those jeans.

Bodie swallowed thickly.

Didn't Doyle understand? Hadn't he picked up on it yet?

No...

How does one man tell another that he had the hots for him?

Bodie didn't know, but he wished he did.

-- THE END --

August 2004