Quinn swore again, raking his hands through his hair while Bailey scrambled into her bra and fastened it. He didn’t want to look at her, but he couldn’t help himself. She was so slender. So fragile. And a virgin for chrissakes! Resting a hip against the breakfast bar he buried his face in his hands. “Ouch!” he yelled. He’d almost forgotten about his swollen face. “I’m a virgin, for God’s sake,” Bailey said, bending over and reaching for her blouse. “It’s not like I have some contagious disease.” “Why, Bailey? You’re twenty-eight years old. Nobody is a virgin at twenty-eight.” Buttoning her blouse with trembling fingers, she shrugged and said, “I’d just never met anyone I wanted to make love with before.” “You were engaged three times! How could you not want to make love with the men you’d planned to marry?” Her voice rose an octave. “I don’t know, okay?” She lifted her chin and glared at him. “But I’d just never had the urge .
