She stepped back, wiping frantically at her wet eyes, then made the mistake of looking in the mirror. No make-up, her eyes red and puffy from all the crying she’d been doing since the night before. It wasn’t a pretty sight. She looked down at the blue velour trousers and white t-shirt she had thrown on. It was at that point she began to consider that throwing herself on her sword would be preferable to being seen as she was. Except she didn’t have a sword. The knock sounded again. Heaving a resigned sigh, she opened the door. Jason drew in a breath when he saw her. He, of course, looked like he’d just stepped from a photoshoot for World’s Sexiest Men Digest. “Sorry,” she said, looking down, “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” “You’ve been crying,” he said softly. She shrugged and didn’t say anything. “Because of last night?”
