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Holly O'Mara,a herbalist, thinks all lawyers are skunks. Luke Nathan, a lawyer thinks all herbalists are quacks. When Holly, with her newly found genie goes on a sea serpent hunt, Luke is convinced she's totally nuts. He's equally convinced he is, too, because he can't seem to stay away from her.
Walter, Holly O'Mara's cat, spun, his back arched, tail fluffed, teeth bared. He growled and hissed with unprecedented ferocity, staring at a point somewhere behind her. She whirled, fully expecting a huge, slavering dog, or a bear, or a cougar, or all three. The weight of the sack in her arms sent her off balance. She stumbled, and the man who had startled Walter lunged forward to catch her just as Walter leapt at him, throwing him off stride.
The man tripped, bashed into Holly and her sack; they both went down with a forty-pound bag of wet seaweed squished between them.“Oof!” she said. “Oof!” he said at the same moment, then followed up with “Well, at least we appear to speak the same language.” He flattened his hands on the grass beside Holly’s shoulders and lifted his top half off the bag of seaweed. “Are you all right?”
Holly tried to reply, but she had no breath in her lungs. Whether this was due to having a couple of hundred pounds of man on her, his bare legs tangled with hers, his lower body pressed much too intimately to hers, she couldn’t say. She couldn’t say anything.
She could only look at him. His slate-gray eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave her a killer smile. Acting almost reluctant, he slid his legs away from hers, slowly, much too slowly, skin gliding over skin, then rolled aside and rose lithely to his feet. Reaching out with one hand, he offered her assistance in getting up.
All Holly wanted to do was pull the sack over her face and slither backward on her bottom until she’d put at least thirty feet between them—or, preferably, the front door of her house. This was her landlady's son? This was the sleasy lawyer she'd come determined to hate on sight? Hoo-boy! Was she ever in trouble!
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