trapped in the chamber. She would figure out how to get out of the dressing room right after she got some water.
She crossed to the sink, grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser, and started drinking water.
When she’d had her fill, she pulled aside the curtain of the nearest shower, turned on the faucet marked cold, and stepped under the spray. She was so tired she had to plant one hand against the tiled wall to keep herself from crumpling. She tried to focus on how to escape from the dressing room. The steam from the main chamber was starting to pour through the shattered window in the door. It wouldn’t be long before it filled the dressing room.
Maybe she could keep some of the mist out if she could figure out how to hang towels over the opening. She had to buy some time while she came up with a way to escape the dressing room.
Footsteps pounded out in the hall.
“Lyra. Lyra, are you in here? Answer me, damn it.”
Simon.
The tide of relief threatened to overwhelm her.
He pounded on the door. “Lyra? I’m coming in.”
She wanted to throw herself into his arms. And then she remembered that she was naked and standing in a shower. She was starting to feel better, but she did not have the energy required to dry off and get into a robe.
“Simon.” She tried to shout but her voice sounded weak. “Simon.”
She heard the door of the dressing room slam open. Instinctively she closed the shower curtain.
“In here,” she said.
A strong, masculine hand gripped the edge of the shower curtain and whipped it aside. Simon examined her from head to toe in one swift, assessing glance.
“Lyra.” His voice was raw. “What the hell happened?”
There was a lot of heat in his eyes, but she didn’t think it was lust or even mild sexual interest. For some reason she found that depressing. It was a silly reaction on her part. Probably caused by the effects of the shock and dehydration. Still, she was standing nude in front of him. In a shower, no less. That ought to have had some effect on his passions.
Maybe he didn’t have any passions.
No, she knew better. The man had passions, but he was very, very good at concealing them beneath his antiquarian book dealer façade.
“Accident,” she managed. “Got locked in the steam chamber. The heat. It was turned up too high. Had to break the window to get out. Front door was locked, too.” She frowned. “How did you get in?”
Without a word he held up the lockpick he had gripped in one hand.
“Oh,” she said. “I really need one of those.” She remembered she was still nude. Belatedly, embarrassment struck. “Would you mind handing me a towel?”
Her request shattered the strange mood that had come over him. He turned away to grab one of the oversized towels. The shower curtain fell back into place. She turned off the water.
“Here,” Simon said.
He reached around the edge of the curtain to hand her the towel. She sighed. He was probably more embarrassed than she was.
She wrapped the towel around herself and pulled the curtain aside. Simon took a couple of steps back.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes.” She ran her fingers through her wet hair, pushing it back behind her ears. “I think I got dehydrated from the heat and the steam. But the shower and a few glasses of water helped. I’m feeling better now. Thank goodness you came along when you did. I don’t know how to pick locks. I doubt if I could have escaped from this room. How did you know to come looking for me?”
“I . . . had a feeling something was wrong. Let’s get you out of here.”
“My clothes. They’re in locker number ten.” She went down the aisle formed by the lockers and opened number ten. Her things were neatly stored inside. She collected them and moved to one of the curtained dressing rooms. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
She whisked the curtain closed, unwrapped the towel, and dressed with fingers that shook. When she was ready, she pulled the curtain aside and saw Simon. He was at the door of the steam chamber, studying the broken glass. As she watched, he gripped the doorknob. She was standing several feet away from him but she could have sworn she sensed a flash of ominous energy.
He released the doorknob and turned to face her. His eyes were fierce.
Her mouth went dry—not from dehydration.
“You’re