Page 87 of Bedroom Therapy

She found flour, butter, milk, baking powder and salt. She’d made a lot of biscuits over the years. Mom had been a biscuit expert, and she’d made sure her daughters inherited that skill. Beth was able to guess at the proportions, then add a little more milk when the mix was a tad dry.

She tried to stay out of Zach’s way, but as she moved around the kitchen, she was very aware of exactly where he was and what he was doing. And from the way he quickly drew back when she approached the sink, she guessed he was also in a state of high alert. When she reached to turn on the oven, her breast brushed against his arm, and they both drew in a sharp breath.

He said nothing, only turned to give her a penetrating look.

“Are drop biscuits okay? Or should I roll them out?”

“Do it the easy way.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

She made quick work of getting small mounds of dough onto a baking sheet, then began setting the table.

As they sat across from each other, he buttered one of her biscuits and took a bite. “This is good.”

“Thanks.” She spooned up some soup. “I didn’t know if I’d like this, but it’s delicious.”

“Basically, it’s beef and vegetable with a fancy name.”

“Right.”

He shifted in his seat. “I like sharing meals with you.”

“Yes. I like it too. And we work well together.”

The conversation ground to a halt again, and they each focused on their food.

Lord, if she couldn’t do any better than this, she was in trouble, she thought.

They used up the last of the milk in her after-dinner coffee. As she turned from throwing the empty container into the trash can, she found him staring at her.

“What?”

“You look totally kissable.”

Unconsciously, she flicked her tongue over her lower lip.

“Very kissable.”

“Zach . . .”

He was standing with his palms pressed against his hips, as if to keep from reaching for her. “Are you really going to keep up this torture for the rest of the week?” he asked, and she caught the undercurrent of frustration in his voice.

“We . . . should,” she answered, knowing that she didn’t sound entirely sure anymore.

He stood looking at her for several minutes. “Um, maybe I’d better get out of here and try to cool off. I’ll go to the grocery and buy some milk. Then I’ll stop at the library and look through the DVD collection. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours. Okay?”

“Yes. That’s a good idea,” she managed to say when she wanted to reach for him, to fold him close. He’d be hard. And she imagined pressing her middle against his erection. He was taller than she. But if he leaned back against the counter the way he’d leaned against the door that time, then he’d be right where she wanted him.

The vivid picture in her mind sent heat shooting through her.

“Go on,” she said.

As he turned and walked out of the kitchen, she was thinking that they could easily have watched something on Netflix. But instead he’d come up with a good excuse to stay away from the house.

Was Dr. O’Neal’s prescription too draconian? Was she driving them both insane? She felt on the edge of madness. She’d never been this sexually frustrated in her life. Yet she didn’t want to ruin things for Zach. If he tried to make love to her and couldn’t climax, he was going to feel worse than he had the last time. And waiting a few more days might make the difference for him.

Or would it?

Maybe they’d both had enough. Maybe it was time for something different.

Quickly she booted up her laptop and scanned a particular Web site. After getting the number she wanted, she made a call.

It took only a few minutes to make some strategic arrangements. Then she clicked to her e-mail and started writing a letter.

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