"I'll be damned."

"The first time I noticed you, you were standing under a tree, smoke surrounding your head like a mushroom cloud."

Joe crossed his arms over his chest, and his mouth settled into a grim line. "Do me a favor, will you? If anyone asks how you detected your surveillance, stick to that black aura thing."

"Why? Don't you want the other cops to know a cigarette blew your cover?"

"Not if I can help it."

She tilted her head to one side and gave him a smile she hoped made him nervous. "Okay, I'll help you out, but you owe me."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know yet. I'll think about it and get back to you."

"My other informants always knew what they wanted."

"What did they want?"

"Usually something illegal." His eyes stared into hers as he said, "Like for me to make their criminal record disappear or look the other way while they smoked a doobie."

"You'd do that?"

"No, but you can ask. It would give me a reason to frisk you." Now it was his turn to smile. And he did. A lazy turn of his lips that made her stomach flutter. He lowered his gaze to her mouth, then let it slide right on down the front of her blouse. "Maybe even force me to strip-search you."

The breath caught in her lungs. "You wouldn't do that."

"Of course I would." His gaze slipped down the row of buttons, lingered on her navel, then lowered to her skirt and the split riding up her left thigh. "I took a solemn oath. I've a sworn duty to protect and serve and strip-search. It's my job."

The flutter in her stomach turned hot. She'd never been a good flirt, but she couldn't help asking, "And are you good at your job?"

"Very."

"You sound pretty confident."

"Let's just say I stay at it until business is taken care of."

She could feel herself melt, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outside the booth. "What business?"

He leaned toward her and said in a low voice that poured across her skin and raised her tern-perature a few more degrees, "Whatever blows your hair back, honey."

She quickly stood and smoothed the crinkles in her skirt. "I have to…" She pointed to the front of her booth, confused. Her body was at war with her mind and spirit. Her physical desire was fighting for dominance over reason. Anarchy. "I'll just-" She moved to a table of massage oil and straightened a neat little row of blue bottles. She didn't want anarchy. One emotion ruling the others wasn't good. No, it was bad. Real bad. She didn't want to feel her skin tingle, her stomach flutter, and her breath catch. Not now. Not in the middle of the park. Not with him.

Several college-aged girls approached the table and asked Gabrielle questions about her oils. She answered and explained and tried to pretend she didn't feel Joe's presence as strongly as if he were touching her. She sold two bottles of jasmine and felt, rather than saw, him come to stand behind her."Do you want me to leave your cheesecake?"

She shook her head.

"I'll put it in the refrigerator at your shop."

She thought he would leave then, but he didn't. Instead, he slid one hand around her waist to her bare stomach and pulled her back against his chest. Gabrielle froze.

He turned his face into her hair and spoke next to her ear. "See that guy in the red tank top and green shorts?"

She glanced across the walkway to Mother Soul's booth. The man in question looked like a lot of the other men at the festival. Clean. Normal. "Yes."

"That's Ray Klotz. He has a pawn shop off Main. I arrested him last year for receiving and selling stolen VCRs." He spread his fingers wide over her abdomen, and his thumb brushed the knot in her blouse just below her breasts. "Ray and I go back a long way, and it might be better if he doesn't see me with you."

She tried to think past the brush of his fingers on her bare flesh but found it difficult. "Why? Do you think he knows Kevin?"

"Probably."

She turned, and without her shoes, the top of her head fit just beneath the bill of his cap. His arms slid to her back and held her so close that his nose touched hers and her breasts brushed his chest. "Are you sure he'd remember you?"

His free hand slipped up her arm to just past her elbow. "When I worked narcotics, I popped him on a drug charge. I had to shove my fingers down his throat and make him puke up the cocaine-filled condoms he'd swallowed," he said, his fingers brushing up and down her spine.

"Oh," she whispered. "That's disgusting."

"It was evidence," he spoke just above her mouth. "Couldn't let a guy get away with my evidence."

Standing so close to him, smelling his skin, the rich timbre of his voice filling her head, he sounded so reasonable, like making a guy throw up was normal. Like his hot palm on her bare skin had no effect on him. "Is he gone?"

"No."

She stared into his eyes and asked, "What are you going to do?"

Instead of answering, he took a few steps backward into the shadow of the booth, pulling her with him. He raised his gaze to her hair. "What am I going to do about what?"

"About Ray."

"He'll move on." He looked into her eyes, and his fingers stroked the small of her back. "If I kiss you, are you going to take it personal?"

"Yes. Won't you?"

"No." He shook his head, and his lips brushed across hers. "It's part of my job."

She held herself still to keep from melting into the warm, solid wall of his chest. "Kissing me is your job?"

"Yes."

"Like strip searches?"

"Uh-huh."

"Won't that draw Ray's attention to you?"

"Depends," he said against her mouth. "Are you going to moan?"

"No." His heart beat heavy against her breasts, and she placed her hands on his shoulders and felt the hard muscles beneath her palms. Her spiritual balance teetered in favor of falling headfirst into the desire robbing her of self-control and making her weak. "Are you going to moan?"

"I just might." He softly kissed her mouth, then said, "You taste good, Gabrielle Breedlove."

She had to remind herself that the man holding her within his strong embrace was as enlightened as a pet rock. He wasn't her soul's mate. He wasn't even close. But he tasted good.

His mouth opened over hers, and he slipped his tongue inside. She didn't moan, but she wanted to. Her fingers curled into T-shirt and flesh, and she held on to him. He tilted his head to one side and delved deeper into her mouth. His palm slid to her side, and he stroked her bare ribs and sunk his thumb into her navel. And just as she was about to sink into the kiss and stay there awhile, he pulled back and dropped his hands to his sides.

"Ah shit," he whispered next to her left ear.

"Joey, is that you?"

"What are you doing, Joey?" a female voice asked from somewhere behind Gabrielle.

"Looks like he's making out with a girl."

"Who?"

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend. Did you, Ma?"

"No. He never said anything to me."

Joe whispered next to Gabrielle's ear. "Just go along with whatever I say, and maybe we'll survive without them picking out china and making our wedding plans."

Gabrielle turned and looked into five pairs of brown eyes staring back at her with obvious interest. The women were surrounded by a group of smiling, giggling children, and she didn't know whether to laugh or hide.

"Who's your girlfriend, Joey?"

She glanced across her shoulder at the man by her side. Joey? Deep grooves bracketed his mouth, while a sort of weird deja vu feeling raised the hair on the back of her arms. Only this time he wasn't meeting her family. She was meeting his. If Gabrielle believed in fate, she might have thought her mother was right, that this was just too big to be cosmic coincidence. No, she didn't believe in fate, but she couldn't think of any other explanation for the freaky turns in her life since she'd met Joe.

After several prolonged seconds, Joe took a long-suffering breath and made the introductions. "Gabrielle," he began, "this is my mother, Joyce." He pointed to an older woman wearing a T-shirt with Betty Boop's head stuck on Rambo's body. Across Betty's headband were written the words Rambo Boop. "These are my sisters, Penny, Tammy, Tanya, and Debby."

"I'm here too, Uncle Joey."

"Me, too."

"And these are most of my nieces and nephews," he said, checking them off with his index finger. "Eric, Tiffany, Sara, Jeremy, Little Pete, and Christy. There are four more someplace."

"They're either at the mall or playing basketball at the church," one of the sisters explained.

Gabrielle looked at Joe, then back at his family. There were more? The group before her was overwhelming enough. "How many are there of you all?"

"I have five children," Joyce answered. "And ten grandchildren. Of course that will change when Joey marries and gives me a few more." She took a small step back and looked at the table filled with small bottles. "What are these?"

"Gabrielle makes some sort of oils," he answered.

"I make essential oils and aromatherapies," she corrected. "I sell them in my shop."

"Where's your shop?"

"You wouldn't be able to find it," Joe answered before she could open her mouth, as if he feared what she might say.

One of the sisters picked up a bottle of ginger and cedarwood. "Are these aphrodisiacs?"

Gabrielle smiled. It was time she helped Detective Shanahan's karma pay him a visit. "A few of my massage oils have the chemical characteristics of aphrodisiacs. The one you have in your hand drives Joe wild." She wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled close. She was definitely going to enjoy watching him squirm for a change. "Isn't that right… sweet cheeks?"