Page 40 of Bedroom Therapy

Did she know him well enough to ask him?

And what would he say. Either the man was very good at manipulation, or he was hiding something about his personality—something that they should bring out into the light.

She glanced toward the bed, then remembered what had happened the night before. He’d been in the grip of a nightmare, and she’d tried to help. He’d awakened and assumed she was his enemy. He’d been upset about that. Maybe he was still upset. Maybe he was thinking that he didn’t trust himself in bed with her again.

Well, if that was the problem, they could work on it together. But this was the wrong time and the wrong place.

She finished packing her toilet articles and makeup, then returned to the bedroom. After stripping the bed, she folded up the bottom sheet and comforter into a pillowcase. Then she used the top sheet as a makeshift garment bag for the clothing hanging in the closet—which reminded her to get her luggage from the front hall closet.

When she returned to the living room, she found that Zach had put her books and magazines into boxes.

He was carefully wrapping a vase in newspaper, which he set into a box with other wrapped objects.

“What else?” he asked, keeping his voice very matter of fact. And she knew he was hoping she would stay focused on the packing.

She decided not to disappoint him. And when she started removing the few knickknacks she’d brought from Annapolis, she saw him let out a little sigh.

Finally she started opening kitchen cabinets and drawers Most of the dishes and other equipment had come with the house. But there were a few things she’d brought with her—like some of her favorite coffee mugs.

“I think we just have to load up the food,” she said.

“I’ll take the refrigerator. You do the cabinet,” he suggested.

“Thanks.”

They worked together efficiently, and in less than ten minutes everything was ready to go.

When they’d both carried the boxes to the Honda, Zach looked from the vehicle to her car, a considering expression on his face. She’d come to know that expression very well.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to get you home safely.” He glanced up and down the street. “Because somebody could be watching to see where we end up after we leave here, I’m going to take a roundabout way back to your new place. I want you to do the same. Take a circuitous route—and watch your rearview mirror. But don’t go home. Drive to the shopping center that’s about a mile from your new house. We passed it, remember?”

“Yes.”

“When you get there, find a space near the entrance to the grocery store where you’re visible to a lot of people. Make sure your doors are locked, and wait for me there.”

“That seems kind of elaborate. Is all that necessary?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. You have your cell phone?”

She reached into her purse and found it. “Yes.”

“Well, call me immediately if you see anything suspicious.”

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From behind a screen of trees fifty yards away, Tony watched them standing in the driveway. It sounded like Mr. Buttinsky was giving her directions, laying out what they were going to do.

The Honda pulled out of the driveway and O’Neal followed in her car, both of them turning in the direction away from where he watched.

Buttinsky wouldn’t want anyone to know where they were going, so he probably had something tricky in mind. Like sending both of them on a long, winding route that would be hard to follow. Probably, the guy was primed for trouble. Probably they were expecting anyone staking out the place to follow O’Neal.

Was that his best choice? Or should he go with the guy?

He didn’t like this damn complication. If Buttinsky hadn’t appeared in the scene, he’d have Amanda O’Neal in his power already. That’s where he wanted her. Because she’d taken over that damn column from Esther Knight.

As he thought about his plans for her, he felt himself growing hard. It hadn’t started out as sexual—when he’d killed Esther Knight a couple of months ago. But he’d been pleasantly surprised by the sexual jolt he’d gotten out of slamming that car into her.

He’d liked the feeling, and he’d realized that he’d shortchanged himself by being impersonal when he took her out. She’d been on the street. He’d been in the car. And the thrill of wiping her off the face of the earth had been over much too quickly. But he wasn’t going to make that mistake with Amanda O’Neal. The two of them were going to spend some quality time together. Get to know each other. He was looking forward to it. Very much. Because any woman who thought she could step into Esther Scott’s shoes deserved anything she got.

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