When Mirabella finished taking her bath, the warm water eased some of the tension in her shoulders, but her mind refused to rest. She wrapped herself in a towel, staring at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment. Her cheeks still held a faint blush and it had nothing to do with the heat of the water. The thought of Hunter being somewhere under the same roof, probably with that smug grin on his face, made her both angry and nervous.
She dried herself slowly, slipped into one of her usual nightshirts — a soft, long singlet-like shirt that brushed her upper thighs and left most of her legs bare. She hated sleeping in heavy clothes. It was her comfort. Her little habit since she began living alone, unlike when she used to sleep in Hunter's room, she dares not sleep with anything on. B
