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... rabbed the long, glittering skirt of her haute couture dress, and ran away.
Oliver and I stared as she disappeared into the crowd.
"Did we say something wrong?" asked Ollie.
"Probably," I answered.
"Excuse me."
Ollie and I turned and looked up, up, up into the cold, expressionless, most gorgeous male face ever produced by the creator deities. We both gulped.
"Mr. Thorne," said Ollie, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Miste ...
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