Page 48 of Bedroom Therapy

She felt a little chill travel over her skin.

He reached across the table and took her hand again. “Sorry. That was a bad choice of words. Cops have a cynical way of viewing the world.”

“I’m sure. You’ve seen a lot more of the sordid side of humanity than most people.”

“Yeah.” He stroked his fingers over hers. “Which is why it’s nice to meet a woman who makes me feel like there’s something more to life than the job I do.”

“Do I?” she murmured.

“Yes. But I shouldn’t hold you captive here much longer. You probably want to get home and get to work.”

She felt a surge of disappointment. She hadn’t been thinking about work. In fact, she’d had the feeling that the conversation was headed toward a more personal discussion. But he’d just backed away from that. Obviously he wanted to bring the evening to an end.

“Okay,” she managed to say.

Zach looked up, located the waiter, and signaled for the check, and she stared out the window at the garden lights.

The ride home was a lot like the ride to the Plantation. She’d thought they were getting close. But he’d suddenly acted like he wanted to get rid of her. Well, maybe he had something else he needed to do.

“Thank you for a very nice dinner,” she said stiffly, as they entered the living room.

“I enjoyed it,” he replied, sounding as awkward as she felt.

Because she didn’t know what else to say now, she marched back to her bedroom, changed out of the fancy outfit she’d put on for Zach’s benefit, then picked up her cell phone to see if there were any messages.

When she went through the sequence of button pushes, she found that Beth had called.

“I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. When I tried to call your home phone, there wasn’t any answer. And your voicemail didn’t pick up.”

Big surprise, Amanda thought as she listened to the message on her cell phone. The phone with the built-in answering machine was sitting on the floor beside the bedside table, not connected yet.

“So, how’s it going with Zachary Grant?” her friend and editor asked. “In this case, is no news good news? And what’s the story with the phone? I’m home this evening. Give me a call if you get back before ten.”

Amanda swung her gaze toward the clock on the bedside table. It was before ten, and she felt a pang of guilt. She should certainly have informed Beth about the man who had broken into her house last night. Last night? It seemed like it was days ago, but it really wasn’t.

In the rush of events that had followed their previous conversation, she’d forgotten all about Beth.

Before the end of her dinner conversation with Zach, she would have wanted to talk about him. But dinner had ended on a flat note, and she knew her mood would come across in any discussion with Beth.

With a sigh, Amanda switched off the phone. Another pang of guilt stabbed at her as she looked at the work she’d left on her desk. Really, she was making a career out of her first column, and she had to get the damn thing finished.

Of course, she had some pretty good excuses now. Someone had broken into her house. Then Zach had made her move. But she wasn’t going to whine to Beth about any of that.

As she stared at the mountain of letters next to her laptop, it seemed like something wasn’t quite right. It took several moments for her to figure out that the top letter looked all wrong. She remembered it had been on pink notepaper with a little cat in the corner. Now a piece of notebook paper was sitting on top of it.

A little frisson went through her. Had someone been in here while they were gone and left her a note?

Should she call Zach?

The question made her grimace. What was he going to think—that she couldn’t handle a piece of paper by herself?

Quickly she crossed the room and picked it up. The handwriting was bold and masculine. But it was the words on the page that captured her attention. As she looked down at the message, her eyes widened, and she had to reach out with her free hand to steady herself against the edge of the desk.

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