Quinn stomped into her loft and threw her purse at the couch. A scream of frustration clawed at her throat, but she refused its escape.
She’d thought it was serendipitous that within an hour of posting her improved profile, a man contacted her. His profile said he was a lawyer, never married, and liked outdoor summer sports.
Nowhere did it mention liking kink.
The memories made the burn of embarrassment return to her skin.
If she were Indy, she would’ve had a smart-a*s comment to throw at him, but she’d had nothing. She was so flustered, she barely remembered to grab her purse before storming out.
She sank down on the couch, her rolling emotions taking their toll. Two minutes of self-pity. I’m allowed that.
When the two minutes were up, Quinn changed into a pair of shorts and an old
