MacBride, sheriff of Catamount Lake, and Keko Holokai, owner of a demolition company and its lead explosives expert, create sparks of the wrong kind as they struggle to discover who paid a local recluse to build a special explosive device—the same type of device that killed Keko’s father—and why.
How can they possibly solve what might be a national security issue, when they can’t stand to be in the same room together?
The same bed? That's another story.
Excerpt:
MAC HEARD A strange, gasping sound. He turned away from Pepper Hunsacker to investigate the noise. Next to a large Hawaiian man who looked vaguely familiar, half-hidden by the mound of bags stacked on the luggage trolley, stood a petite beauty whose hair hung to her waist like a shiny black waterfall.
She stepped around the trolley. Came to a rock-solid halt. Stared at him. Her emerald eyes opened wide enough to mimic Garfield the cartoon cat. Wearing a sleeveless button-down vest in some dark red shiny fabric, hip-hugging black capris, a thin silver chain around her naked waist, and black high-heel sandals, she was a knockout. Sexy enough to cause any greeting to catch in his throat. Competition enough for Pepper to utter rude, catty comments under her breath from her position next to the counter.
As he struggled to focus on the improbability, Mac’s cock recognized the petite woman immediately—followed a millisecond later by the rest of his body. The brain came in third out of three. Dear Jesus sweet Christ in heaven, it’s her! The sex-crazed nymph, the girl with the emerald-green eyes and the phoenix tattoo. How the blue livin’ hell…?
The woman didn’t say it aloud, but he had no trouble reading her pouty crimson lips. She mouthed the words, slowly and clearly: Oh fuck.
Her Hawaiian companion smiled broadly at Mac. “Yo, dude, it’s you. Far out.”
She elbowed the big guy in his well-padded ribs but did not break eye contact with Mac. “Please tell me you’re not MacBride. I beg you.”
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