The Price of Desire. Jo Goodman

collected in her head. Her knuckles were nearly as white as the towel she was gripping. There was a similar whiteness at his neck where his skin was pulled taut by the linen garrote.

      He was able to heave himself up but not able to dislodge her hold. The space he created, though, gave her the freedom to move out from under him. The towel twisted on his neck as she shifted to one side. When his arms gave way he collapsed face down on the floor, and as quick as that she was on his back, holding the tails of the linen like reins on a horse that she meant to bring to an abrupt halt.

      It might have been hearing her name yet again that gave her pause. It could also have been the heat at her back that finally stayed her hands. She gave it no thought at the time. She simply released both ends of the towel and stood, but not without first pressing one knee hard into his spine as she did so.

      His groan satisfied her that he was alive, but also made her wary.

      Olivia grabbed the towel as she leapt away from him, afraid he would recover the strength to pull her down again. Her attention was drawn to the door as it shuddered hard in the frame.

      “Olivia! For God’s sake…. Olivia!”

      She spun on her heels and ran toward the sound of that voice. It was Breckenridge. She met his pounding by placing the flat of one hand against the door panel. Throwing the towel over her shoulder, she twisted the knob with her other hand. When nothing happened she remembered all the reasons that was so.

      Glancing back, she saw that not only was her attacker beginning to stir, but the fire was slipping over the edge of the bed. “I can’t get the key! Go! Go away! Get everyone out!”

      She was not at all certain she was heard. She slapped the door and yelled the one word she hoped would garner his full attention.

      “Fire!”