Excerpt of Hocus Pocus by I. R. Plummer

Her thoughts were on a cup of hot tea and the pan of brownies she'd left cooling on the counter when a knock on the door startled her back to reality—Cole Brown her last minute appointment had arrived.

Soulful bedroom eyes the color of a Tootsie roll put a hitch in her breath. Sexy scenes from her dreams danced through her thoughts. She wiped suddenly damp hands on her skirt and reminded herself that he was a client, forbidden territory, not a lollipop with a soft chocolate center waiting to be devoured.

"Hi..." She stopped to clear the huskiness from her voice. His mussed chestnut brown hair, square jaw and firm mouth reminded her of Janie's description of the sex-for-therapy hunks her imagination had created to help her change her eating habits. She tried to focus on the imperfection of a slight crook in his nose instead of the overall package.

"Hello Lover Boy." Ginger felt the blush creep up her neck. His tall lean frame and sexy Texas drawl fit the title, but never having made such a stupid gaffe she couldn't decide if she should ignore it or make a tongue-in-cheek joke. If Janie had heard her use the self-hypnosis mantra, with the perfect Mae West infliction, she'd be rolling on the floor with laughter.

"Hi Cole. I'm Ginger, the red-faced hypnotherapist that wishes the ground would swallow her whole right now. I was expecting you to call. You hung up before I could give you directions."

What? How the hell did she know his name? What did she mean she was expecting him to call? Directions? Had he fallen down Alice's rabbit hole? He forced a smile. When he'd left the house he sent out a plea for help with a game plan. Surprised that his prayer was answered, Cole played the hand dealt.

He offered his hand and a slight smile. A blue ark of static electricity zapped their fingers just before they touched. They both jumped.

Ginger rubbed her fingers in the palm of her other hand.

The jolt, far more powerful than just a little static in the air, felt like it branded Cole from the inside out. "Sorry about that." Cole flexed his tingling fingers. "Nice to meet you. I already had directions. Actually you were easy to find." He offered a more generous smile.

Lord have mercy, the man was drop-dead gorgeous when he smiled. The sexy Texas drawl was more pronounced in person. The smooth and caressing burr would easily lull a baby to sleep or a female into his sleeping bag.

An inner voice Ginger had dubbed the drill sergeant barked out orders. Get a grip. Stop drooling. He's a client, not a cone of fluffy cotton candy. For heaven's sake act normal! Invite him in. Mind your truth; he isn't Adam.

"Cole, please come in. Have a seat."

The focal point of the room was a large bay window. The window seat was covered with colorful quilted pillows. Flanking the window, the wall was lined from ceiling to floor with bookcases filled with hundreds of books. The remaining walls were covered in six-high, richly aged, oak wainscoting with pale marbleized peach and white paint above that. Six-inch deep crown molding framed a soft cream tin-pressed ceiling. A scarred, antique oak kitchen table held a computer, an oversized sketchpad and an old green canning jar full of sharpened pencils. Two red leather wingback chairs with an old oak square lamp table were placed in a conversational setting in one corner of the large room. A folded massage table with a purple leather cover leaned against a wall. A rich red, blue and gold Persian carpet dominated the center of the hardwood floor. Even with the peach colored walls, the room had a masculine appeal that was comfortable and welcoming.

As Cole walked to the chairs, Ginger admired the view. A blue work shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealed well-muscled arms and broad shoulders tapering to a slim waist. As her gaze traveled down well-worn jeans, she appreciated the way the jeans hugged his ass and long slim legs.