Rebecca York - Bedroom Therapy (Harlequin Blaze)

Bedroom Therapy

Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York

Rebecca York

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"This bed is pretty wide," Zach murmured. "I think we can manage."

"Uh, sure." Amanda watched him turn off the light. The mattress shifted. He was lying on the edge of the bed. He looked stiff and uncomfortable. But she wasn't going to invite him to get undressed. Yet.

Dear Doctor , she thought. Is it possible for a man and a woman who are attracted to each other to share the same bed and not end up making love? Signed, Curious and Hot.

Dear Curious . She answered her own question. Of course it's possible for a man and a woman who are attracted to each other to be in close proximity and agree not to engage in hanky-panky.

Hmm. Hanky-panky. A nice old-fashioned term. A wave of heat swept over her body, and she knew she was in trouble.

She'd told him to share the bed with her. Now she had to keep her cool. Just then he shifted uncomfortably and she wondered if he was having the same problem she was. When she found herself staring at his jeans to see if he had an erection, she clamped her teeth together.

She'd sentenced herself to lying next to this sexy man all night long. She was hot, she was needy. And she knew he felt exactly the same.

So what were they going to do about it?

Dear Reader,

Long ago when I wrote mainly nonfiction, I had a job working with a sexual therapist on an advice column in a national women's magazine. We'd get together every month, open letters from readers and decide what to answer. Then she'd dictate notes to mewhich I'd polish up and send to the magazine. I learned a lot from the experience. For years I've wanted to use that knowledge in a novel.

Finally I've found the right story Bedroom Therapy . Psychologist Amanda O'Neal is just starting her career as a sexual advice columnist. She's not so sure she can handle the job. And she's got another problem, too. Somebody may be trying to kill her. But private detective Zachary Grant has vowed to protect her. Danger and desire throw them into a pressure cooker of emotions.

The mix makes for one of the hottest novels I've ever written. And despite the danger hovering in the background, there's a playful quality to the story that surprised me. I enjoyed every moment of it. I hope you do, too.

Best,

Ruth Glick, writing as Rebecca York

Books by Rebecca York

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

31BODY CONTACT

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

667FROM THE SHADOWS

706PHANTOM LOVER

717INTIMATE STRANGERS

Contents

D EAR E STHER ,

I have a problem that I can't talk about with anyone I know. My husband is in the navy and he's on a three-month cruise. Sometimes I get so lonely I don't know what to do. And sometimes I get so hot for him it pushes me over the edge. I mean, I have to make myself come. It feels good when I do it and I always imagine my husband's making love to me. But afterward I feel so guilty. What should I do?

Sincerely,

Lonely and Hot in Norfolk

Amanda O'Neal put down the letter she'd been reading and ran a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair. Standing up, she paced over to the window of her office and gazed out at a motorboat speeding up the Choptank River with a man and a woman in it, laughing and enjoying the bright summer afternoon.

A pang of envy shot through her. They were outside on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early summer, having a good time, and she was cooped up in her little rented house in St. Stephens, reading sexually explicit letters.

She glanced back at the laptop computer on her desk, then down at her pale skin. She could take her laptop out on the patio and get some tan on her legs while she worked.

The prospect was tempting, but she knew in her heart that she'd just be adding one more distraction.

Her gaze flicked to the letter she'd put down. It was one of a stack that the postman had delivered this weekall in plain gray canvas sacks. Should she answer Lonely and Hot in Norfolk or tackle a different question?

She tried a few phrases aloud, thinking about her own father and mother. "Probably your parents drummed it into you that masturbation was evil. Or was it society that taught you it was unhealthy? Not so long ago, they used to tell kids that touching yourself 'down there' would make hair grow on your palms," she said, then grimaced.

Talking to herself was a bad habit she'd gotten into while writing her scholarly papersreciting key phrases to make sure they didn't sound too stiff.

She glanced back toward the letter lying on her desk. Should she talk about masturbation in the animal kingdom? No, that was going a little too far, she decided. And so was the sentence about hairy hands.

But she was going to be honest and to the point in her answer. She wanted to help that woman who had poured out her heart to Esther Scott.

Of course, there really was nobody named Esther Scott, the woman whose pseudonym appeared at the top of the widely read sexual advice column in Vanessa, one of the country's leading women's magazines. There'd never been a real Esther Scott.

Until last month, the much-talked-about column had been written by a distinguished sexual therapist named Esther Knight. Because she had wanted to keep the identity of her patients confidential, she had picked a pen name when she'd started writing articles and then the column.

Unfortunately, Esther was dead, the victim of a hit-and-run accident. The editor of Vanessa, Beth Cantro, was an old college friend of Amanda's. And when she'd needed a fast replacement to author the column that received hundreds of letters each month, she'd turned to Amanda.

"But I see Vanessa on every newsstand," Amanda had protested. "Women from their early twenties to their fifties read your magazine. You've got a reputation to uphold. How can you use somebody who's never done this before?"

"Well, because we do have that reputationnow. When Vanessa Summers put two million of her personal fortune into the first issue, she didn't know it was going to be such a hit. But we've got the right mix of sex, fashion, food, entertainment, sex, decorating, hair and makeup advice, the diet of the month, sex, meaty articles on women's issues, sex, relationships."

Amanda had laughed. "Okay, I get the picture."

"I know how you feel, actually," Beth admitted. "When Vanessa retired to her Montana ranch with her new husband and picked me to replace her, I felt like I couldn't fill her shoes. But I found out I have excellent editorial judgment. You can do it, I'm positive. Basically, this job just requires the same skills you've learned teaching your graduate seminars in human sexuality," Beth had argued.

"It's a lot more public forum than a graduate seminar. What's the circulation of your magazine?"

"A couple million."

Amanda groaned.

"I'm not trying to scare you off. I'm trying to convince you that taking the job makes sense. It will be good practice for that book you keep telling me you want to write. You worked for Esther when you were a graduate student. That gives you a leg up. And I want a Ph.D. for this jobto give the answers authority."

"Yeah. Right," Amanda muttered aloud as she began pacing again back across the office then plopped down in the desk chair.

During an afternoon of arm-twisting and wine coolers on the patio, she'd accepted Beth's offerpartly because she was on a leave of absence from the psychology department of Harmons College, and she couldn't use the excuse of a full teaching schedule. Plus, the money was excellent.