Page 41 of Bedroom Therapy

Chapter Eight

Dear Esther,

I met a man whom I can’t figure out. I mean, I like him and I think he likes me. I haven’t known him long. But he’s constantly doing stuff that surprises me. Well, sometimes stuff that makes me uncomfortable, actually. There are times I’m sure he doesn’t trust me. Other times, I’m certain he wants to protect me. He’s very complicated. And our sexual relationship is complicated, too. I’ve done things with him that I’ve never done with anyone else—things that might embarrass me with another man. But he makes it seem okay. Well, except that I blush when I think how far I’ve gone with him in such a short time. What do you think I ought to do? Ditch him? Or let him help me explore my sexuality?

Amanda sat in her car, composing a letter in her mind to occupy her thoughts while she peered out the windshield, waiting for Zach to appear.

Let him? Was that the right phrase? Was she letting him talk her into stuff that made her uncomfortable?

Once again, she wished there was somebody she could consult. Not Esther Scott. One of her old friends from Harmons. But she’d walked away from her support system. Well, walked away from the friends she’d left. The rest of them had turned their backs on her.

For just a moment, she thought about calling her sister. Emily was a computer programmer living in California. She’d probably like to hear from her. But they’d never been close. And her sister had absorbed their parents’ values. Probably she’d be embarrassed if Amanda tried to ask for advice about her relationship with Zach.

She sighed. Was it a relationship? A sexual relationship.

Well, the first episode with him had been all talk. The second had been all hot touching and kissing.

Her hands clenched and unclenched as she fought to ward off the feelings that came along with the memories.

They had the power to arouse her. And arousal should be the furthest thing from her mind, now.

Instead, she tried to focus on Zach, the man. Their relationship was artificial. They’d been thrown together because he was a private detective investigating the murder of the woman who’d written the Esther Scott column. But he’d chosen to stay with her. Which must mean something. But she couldn’t figure out what it was.

She craned her neck, looking first at one entrance to the parking lot—then the other. But she didn’t see Zach.

She’d been here for twenty minutes, watching people go in and out of the store, seeing some of them eyeing her—probably wondering what she was doing sitting here all that time.

At first she’d been keyed up. Now she was worried, if she was going to admit the truth to herself.

She had expected Zach to meet her before this. But there was no sign of him. Too bad she hadn’t gone inside the store and done some grocery shopping. While she’d been sitting here, she had thought of several things she needed.

And she’d been thinking that, if she bought some chicken or some sirloin steak, she could impress him with her chicken cacciatore or her beef stroganoff. She might not be a whiz in the kitchen, but over the years she’d collected a few good dishes that she could always rely on.

She made a small snorting sound. She was thinking about bowling him over with her cooking? Great!

She dragged her mind away from that topic. Then, unable to stop herself, she went back to worrying again. She could dial his cell. But that would give away that she was on edge, and she didn’t want to call him—probably because it was exactly what her mother would have done. Mom’s specialty had been calling to find out why you hadn’t arrived at the exact time she expected you. That trait had annoyed Amanda, which was why she’d vowed never to do it.

But this was completely different. Maybe it was time to break her own rules. She had just pulled out her cell phone when she saw Zach’s Honda coming down the curb lane. Quickly she put the instrument away.

He swung into the empty space beside her and rolled down his window.

“The coast is clear. You can follow me back.”

“Okay,” she answered. She’d been worried that Zach was somehow in danger because of her. Because of the murder investigation. The moment she saw him and knew that he was all right, she went back to worrying about their relationship.

She stayed in back of him as they returned to the new house he’d found for her, the whole process gobbling up fifteen minutes longer than if they’d taken the direct route.

The property was on a large lot, with a deep backyard that faced the creek. Zach pulled up at the curb, then waved her around to the back, where her vehicle couldn’t be seen from the street.

She wasn’t sure she liked all the cloak and dagger stuff. But she wasn’t the security expert.

When she looked in the rearview mirror, she saw that he’d pulled his car to the end of the driveway, effectively blocking her exit from the property, and she fought a sudden trapped feeling that tightened her chest.

Then she silently ordered herself to calm down. He hadn’t locked her in. He was simply protecting her. He was a former cop. Now he was a private detective. Probably watching his back at all times was as ingrained in him as brushing his teeth in the morning.

“I should have gone shopping,” she said when she’d climbed out of her car.

“I was thinking that after we unload your stuff, we could go out to dinner.”

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