Joanne answered the door still clutching her phone. The shower had been alternating between scalding hot and freezing cold, forcing her to call the front desk—yet the attendant took ages to arrive.
Quinn's voice was babbling through the phone: "Miss Wren, Zane's almost done showering! Should I make the first move or—"
Her words cut off as Joanne froze at the sight of the towering figure outside her door.
Zane stood there in a crisp suit, looking like he'd come straight through a downpour. Rain glistened on his coat, dampening his disheveled bangs. He carried the fresh scent of rain.
Before Joanne could react, Quinn's dramatic whisper crackled through the phone: "Oops, gotta go—Zane's coming out!"
The line went dead. In one fluid motion, Zane pulled Joanne into his arms, his breath war
