Chapter Six“Can I take off my blindfold?”
Trish towelled off quickly and then slipped into a hotel bathrobe. “Yes, go ahead.”
The mirror had steamed up enough that she couldn’t see him in it, or herself for that matter. She couldn’t turn around. She couldn’t look at him.
“Pass me a towel?” he asked.
“Sure.” Every word was snipped, mean-spirited, hard-hearted. She shoved a towel at his chest so forcefully she knocked him back against the tile, and then felt horrible for what she’d done. “Oh dear. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“You pushed me,” he said, aghast. “Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Taking the towel from him, she unfolded it and flipped it around his back, then rubbed it against his chest. “There. How’s that? Better? I truly am sorry.”
“You’
