Page 37 of Bedroom Therapy

“I am too.. There’s nothing wrong with using a vibrator.”

“You don’t have to tell me that!” she snapped. “It’s a perfectly legitimate . . . toy for a woman to have. I would certainly tell that to my readers. I just happen to be embarrassed about being seen with one in my bedside table drawer. And I was hoping I’d have some privacy when I packed it. But no. You were waiting to find out what I was up to.”

“Yeah.”

She dragged in a breath and let it out, wishing he’d back away from her. At the moment, she wanted to be alone.

“I didn’t intend to embarrass you.”

“Is that an apology?”

“Yes.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Part of doing my job is judging your moods.”

“Oh, that’s just great. “

“That’s why I followed you into the bedroom.”

“And now you can stop snooping.”

“I’m not trying to make life difficult for you.”

With any other man, she would have said, “Why don’t you just let me finish packing? Then you can take me back to my new rental property and go back to New Jersey.” That’s what she should say, she told herself. But Zachary Grant wasn’t just any man. He was a man who had gotten very close to her in a very short period of time.

That was emotionally dangerous in itself. But it also presented an opportunity.

###

Outside on the street, Tony Anderson slowed the white van and stared at the Honda parked in the driveway. In the next moment, he sped up.

The Honda had been there the day before. It belonged to the guy he had started to call Mr. Buttinsky. The guy who had been hanging around Amanda O’Neal. The guy who had almost coldcocked him.

The bastard was back. Or the two of them were there. Good—unless one of them picked this exact moment to come outside.

Tony sped up again, drove down the rural road, and turned off into a long driveway, screened by trees from the road. Then he got out a map and pretended that he was trying to find a particular address.

Really, he was thinking about what to do now. He’d been circling back here every half hour or so, hoping to spot O’Neal. She’d been gone since the incident last night. But she’d left her car at the house, and he’d figured she was coming back. He’d hoped to catch her alone. But it looked like Buttinsky was back, too.

The guy was dangerous. Tony had barely gotten away last night, and he was going to be damned careful not to get caught now.

But he couldn’t simply leave, because this was too good an opportunity.

If O’Neal came out, he’d follow her. Or if the guy left, that might give him another crack at the woman. Either way, he felt like his luck had turned again.

###

While she was trying to decide what to say and what to do, Amanda felt Zachary move in closer behind her so that the front of his body was pressed to the back of hers.

His voice had turned low and intimate when he said, “The most important thing I want you to understand is that I find the contents of your bedside table very sexy.”

“Why?” she managed to say, her own voice cracking on the single syllable.

“Because it tells me that your sexuality is important to you. You don’t deny that component of your personality. You make a point of keeping in touch with the sensual side of your nature.”

“Oh.”

Apparently her ability to speak had been reduced to monosyllables. And all hope of speech choked off completely when he leaned over, reached into the drawer and picked up the vibrator. She wanted to close her eyes, but her gaze was riveted to the eight-inch-long plastic shaft grasped in his masculine hand.

It looked out of place in his large fist. But when he ran his thumb up the length of the thing, a low, buzzing sound started up in her head, making it almost impossible to string one thought after the other. She assumed it was the pounding of the blood in her veins. Then she realized he had switched on the motor.

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