{Jaylin}
Jaylin sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by open books and scattered notes, trying desperately to focus on the words in front of her instead of the silver-haired temptation lounging on the couch just a few feet away.
Margaret had been there most of the evening, nursing a bottle of wine that had gradually dwindled to almost nothing. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, her silver hair tumbling freely around her shoulders, and the loose neckline of her dress had slipped just enough to reveal the edge of a dark nipple.
Not that Jaylin was looking. Nope. Definitely not.
"You're very diligent," Margaret observed, her words slightly slurred as she took another sip of wine. "All Melisa ever does anymore is complain about your project together."
[That's probably not what she's actually complaining about.]
"She's been busy," Jaylin muttered, tearing her gaze back to her book. "We both have."
