Finally he stopped pacing and stood before her. Close. Too close. And she had nowhere to go.

Boone stared at the girl on the bed. What the hell was he going to do with her?

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She flinched. “I’m not telling you anything,” she said frostily.

He almost smiled. She should be crying, hysterical, terrified, but she still had the guts to look at him coldly. She couldn’t hide the way her hands and knees shook, though. “Well, then, I’ll just call you sugar.”

She pursed her lips. “Jayne,” she said.

“No last name?”

“Not that I’d care to share with you.”

He leaned forward and down. “Don’t play hardball with me, lady. I’m your only chance of getting out of here alive.”

She swallowed, sending that slender, pale throat working in interesting ways.

In the hallway someone snickered. Doug or Marty…probably both.

Boone sighed. “Give me your jacket,” he ordered.

“I will not.”

He slipped off his leather jacket and placed it on the end of the bed, pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it atop the jacket. He drew the Colt pistol from his waistband, looked at the weapon, looked at the woman, then quickly went to the closet and placed the pistol on the top shelf. He didn’t think Jayne would actually try to shoot him, but until they got things straightened out here, he couldn’t be sure—and she wouldn’t be able to reach the top shelf without a ladder or a chair. Neither was handy.

That done, he waggled his fingers at her, silently asking again for the jacket to her expensive suit. She stubbornly lifted her chin and shook her head.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he said through clenched teeth. “But I need that damn jacket.”

She sniffled and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine,” he said. “We do this the hard way.” He sat beside her and grasped one wrist in his hand. She fought a little, but not very hard.

“Get your hands off of me,” she said loudly, slapping at his hands.

In the hallway, another giggle.

Finally, after just a little wrestling, he had the jacket in his hand. He shook his free finger at her. “Now lie down and be still.”

“I will not.”

Boone closed his eyes and shook his head. “This is not going to work.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed.

Boone left the bed and went to the door, opening it on two grinning young thugs. “What the hell are you two doing here?” He shook the jacket as he spoke. They looked past him, no doubt to see a red-faced Jayne sitting on the side of the bed, her hair mussed and her blouse halfway untucked.

“There’s nothin’ else to do around here,” Doug said. “Ain’t you finished yet?”

“Some of us like to take more than three minutes with a woman, kid. Get lost. If I see either one of you near this door or that window,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll shoot you.”

“Maybe you oughtta tell her that,” Marty said with a lift of his chin.

Boone turned around to see that Jayne stood at the window, tugging frantically at the lower frame. He closed the door and leaned against it, watching her with a shake of his head.

“It’s painted shut,” he informed her.

She gave one last tug and spun to face him, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed. It hit him, for the first time, how very small she was. Not thin, but short—no more than five foot two—and delicately shaped. Beneath the hem of her straight skirt was a pair of nice legs. Up the length of her body she sported easy curves.

“We need to talk,” he said softly. “Sit down.”

She shook her head.

“Please,” he said, calling on every little bit of patience he had left. “Please sit down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I imagine you think I should be flattered,” she said, trying to sound strong and falling far short. “Am I supposed to be grateful?”

“Well, you would be dead right now if not for me. A little gratitude can’t be too much to ask,” he said in a low voice. His response did nothing to soothe her. She brought a hand to the pearls at her throat, and her breathing changed, became more rapid. He did not need her passing out on him! Calming himself, he raised both hands, palms out. “I swear, I’m not going to touch you. You’re safe with me. Now sit on the bed.”

She moved warily away from the window, and he stepped into her place, making certain the curtains were tightly closed. He didn’t need anyone peeking in, and warning or no warning, he wouldn’t put anything past Doug and Marty. When he turned around, he saw that Jayne had done as he asked and was perching prettily on the edge of the bed.

“We need to talk,” he said, “but first…”

Her eyes grew wide as he stepped around her to the head of the bed, gripping one corner of the headboard in his hand. He sighed tiredly. How to explain? Best just to do what he had to do.