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“Jonathan!” My name is screeched at me from the doorway to the laundry room and my heart sinks out of my body, slamming through the floor and disappearing somewhere in the basement. This is, perhaps, the worst possible position I could have been discovered in. Even if I’d been sniffing the panties, I could maybe claim I was checking to make sure they were clean. Hell, even if I’d been wearing them, I could at least have wrenched up my pants and we could both pretend that nothing happened. “Turn. Around.” It’s the last thing I want to do. But what choice do I have? “And in my Marjolaine panties,” Aunt Brenda gasps in horror. “And look at what you’ve done to them! That wet spot!”