The water felt like glory on her abused throat, but before she could thank him, he’d pulled the glass out of her hand and set it aside. She swayed a little, and blinked when he tugged her sweater over her head.

“You’re going to take a hot bath and relax.”

She was too stupefied to argue as he continued to undress her like a doll. When he laid her clothes aside, she shivered a little but didn’t speak. She only stared at him when he picked her up, carried her into the bathroom and deposited her in the tub.

The water was high, and a great deal hotter than she considered healthy. Before she could get her mind around the words to mention it, he flicked off the stream.

“Sit back, shut your eyes. Do it!” he said with such unexpected force that she obeyed. She kept them closed even when she heard the door click shut behind him.

She stayed there for twenty minutes, nearly nodding off twice. Only the vague fear of drowning kept her from sinking into sleep. And the niggling idea that he would come back in, pull her out, and dry her off himself was what made her climb shakily out of the tub.

Then again, maybe he’d gone. Maybe he’d finally gotten disgusted with her outburst and left her alone. Who could blame him?

But he was standing by the terrace doors in her bedroom when she stepped out, looking out at her view of the Bay. “Thank you.” She knew it was awkward, for both of them, and struggled to make the effort when he turned and stared at her. “I’m sorry—”

“You apologize again, Sybill, you’re going to piss me off.” He walked toward her as he spoke, laid his hands on her shoulders. He cocked his eyebrows when she jumped. “Better,” he decided, running his fingers over her shoulders and neck, “but not perfect. Lie down.”

He sighed, pulled her toward the bed. “I’m not after sex. I do have some small level of restraint, and I can call on it when I’m faced with an emotionally and physically exhausted woman. On your stomach. Come on.”

She slid onto the bed and couldn’t quite muffle the moan when his fingers began to knead along her shoulder blades.

“You’re a psychologist,” he reminded her. “What happens to someone who represses their feelings on a regular basis?”

“Physically or emotionally?”

He laughed a little, straddled her, then got seriously down to work. “I’ll tell you what happens, doc. They get headaches, heartburn, stomach pains. If and when the dam breaks, it all floods out so hard and so fast that they make themselves sick.”

He tugged the robe off her shoulders and used the heels of his hands to press the muscles.

“You’re angry with me.”

“No, I’m not, Sybill. Not with you. Tell me about when Seth stayed with you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“He was four,” Phillip prompted and concentrated on the muscles that had just tensed. “You were in New York. Same place you have now?”