Eighteen
Matt felt the thump of music vibrating through the old building before he reached the landing on his floor. The music got louder as he approached his door. Either Dani was up, Luke was home, or all of the above. Not sure what to think or expect, he shifted the sack of groceries to his other hand while he unlocked the door and paced down the narrow hall. He stopped short in the doorway.
Dancing? She was dancing?
Wearing nothing but his silk bathrobe.
And wearing it very well.
The brown silk clung where it should, fell straight where it didn’t matter. His only complaint—it covered her legs almost to the ankles.
If she had to dance, and it seemed she did, Mary Chapin Carpenter’s in-your-face song was a good choice for her. She had taken her chances and then some the last five d
