With foam still in her hair, Nora Ainsworth had no choice but to clutch her bathrobe with one hand and try to wash her hair with the other, her eyes fixed cautiously on the uninvited guest.
Quentin Grant's tall, slender figure was leaning against the doorway. He leisurely watched her flustered movements, a casual smile playing across his lips.
She pointed at the door. "About us sleeping together—we just *slept*, that's all! Don't put it like that! Get out! If anyone finds you in my bedroom—" She trailed off, certain he understood what she meant.
"Even if we didn't do anything, we still shared a bed. Since you know the consequences, just be a good girl. This is the key to my place. Be there at six tonight." With a light toss, he threw the key to her. Nora Ainsworth caught it and clutched it in her palm as she watched the bathroom door close.
