Scarlett stepped out of the shower and reached for the plush, oversized towel that was neatly draped on the warming rack—yet another one of the luxuries that Michael’s house afforded. Certainly they were luxuries she could do without—and had for all but a week of her life—but this decadence had quickly become a particular favorite.
As far back as she could remember, she’d always dreaded the end of a shower, when she would inevitably have to leave its soothing heat to step out into the cool air of the room and dry off with a cold, stiff towel as quickly as she could, racing against the early signs of hypothermia. She could laugh about it now, but back then, particularly during the times when they couldn’t afford the heating bill, it had not seemed like a laughing matter. Now though, in the
