My face fell, along with the blue terry cloth towel wrapped around my body, when I opened the door to find Simon staring back at me, backpack slung over his left shoulder. No, no, no! This can’t be! What in God’s name is he doing here? I caught the towel with my left hand before it completely dropped to the floor and attempted to pull it tighter using only one hand.

“Hello, love!” Simon chirped in his annoying British accent, eying me up and down and giving me the creeps.

Using both hands, I cinched the towel as snug as it would go, practically cutting off my circulation. Damn it. Simon is not the Fed Ex man. Now just so you know, I don’t normally answer the door in a towel, but I was waiting for my new stilettos that I ordered from DSW. When the doorbell rang as…