Leonard had forgotten his stamp in the bedroom, and now that he was done reviewing the files, he needed it.
So, he headed upstairs and pushed open his bedroom door—only to freeze in place.
Melisa stood inside, wrapped in nothing but a white bathrobe that contrasted her fair skin, damp hair falling over her shoulders.
Before his could even process the situation, a voice drifted from outside the hall.
"Brother? Are you here?" Tristan's questioning tone carried through the door.
Leonard's gaze had already caught a glimpse of the fair, bare patch of her collarbone. His ears turned red, and his hand shot out to close the door behind him with a sharp thud without thinking.
"Sorry!" His voice was strained, embarrassed as he looked at the ground.
Melisa's cheeks flushed and heat rushed up her neck, and she hurried toward the bathroom, clutching the bathrobe tighter. But in her rush, her foot slipped.
"Ahh!"
