Page 51 of Finding Amanda

She blinked. "I'm sorry?" She realized what he’d asked, and her stomach tightened like it did whenever she thought of the yellow roses. "No. We think they were from Sheppard."

"He knows where you live?"

She shrugged as fear bubbled up in her stomach, making it impossible to speak.

"Please tell me you won't publish it."

"I don't know." She hadn't meant to snap at him.

Alan softened his voice. "You're angry with me."

"I'm . . . surprised, that's all."

Amanda changed the subject then, telling him about her night and the high-spirited ladies who'd filled her kitchen. They talked for an hour, during which time Amanda dragged herself off the couch and cleaned the kitchen. Alan,fortunately, didn't bring up the memoir again until they were saying goodbye.

"I'm looking forward to Friday," she said, climbing the stairs to her bedroom.

"Amanda, I'm serious about what I said. Please don't publish it."

She stopped halfway up. He sounded as serious as Mark. Maybe they were both right.

"It was a lot of dang work to just shove in a drawer," she said.

"I'm sure it was. But is it really worth risking your life over?"

She frowned in the darkness. Mark had asked the same thing. "I don't know. I'll think about it. Maybe I should hold off for a while, see if he tries to contact me again."

"Yes. Good idea. Just . . . hold off on it for now."

When she climbed into bed that night, Amanda thought about everything Alan had said. For some reason, though he used the same arguments as Mark, she was more willing to back down when Alan asked her.

The fact was, they were both right. It was stupid to risk her life to publish a memoir. She just wasn't convinced she was in danger, though the men in her life were working very hard to convince her she was.

She turned off the light, silently thanked Mark for the security system, and fell asleep.

Gabriel filledthe doorway that separated his office from the waiting room just as he filled Amanda's heart. This was the first time she'd been back since they'd made love, and she repeated her mantra silently in her head.

She mustn't let on to her mother that anything had changed.

With a quick glance at her mom, who'd taken a seat on thesofa and opened a magazine, she walked toward him, feeling a bubble of nervousness in her chest. What would it be like, this counseling session, now that she was sleeping with the counselor?

Inside his familiar office, she sat in the leather chair and waited. He smiled, kissed her, and began to unbutton her shirt. She hadn't expected that. She didn't want it.

"It's okay," he said. "We're just going to talk." He slipped her shirt off her shoulders.

She knew it was wrong, but he convinced her it would be good for them, and she trusted him. He pulled her to her feet, completed the process of removing her clothes, and a moment later she sat, fully exposed, in the chair. He took the chair across from her, comfortable in his suit and tie, and began to question her. They were the same questions he always asked in this room. Was there anything she'd like to talk about? How were her nightmares? How was she doing in school? She had no choice but to answer honestly. It was impossible to lie while sitting naked. She felt as though he could see through her skin, into her heart.

He didn't counsel her today as much as listen to her rambling.

Then his mouth lifted at the corners, his eyes crinkled, and he gave her that special smile she only saw when they were alone together, when he was telling her how much he cared for her. "Do you want to talk about your relationship with your new boyfriend?"

She told him her new boyfriend was wonderful.

The phone rang.

He stood, unzipped his pants, and drew her to her feet. She thought it was wrong, but she allowed it because she loved him and he loved her. If he said it was okay, then it must have been. And it didn't last very long—their time was almost up.

The phone rang again, and she looked at it. A black phonewith multiple buttons, all of which were lit up, demanding his attention. It had never rung during their sessions before. In fact, she couldn't remember ever noticing it.

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