Too hot to sleep

by Stephanie Bond

  He hadn’t yet slept. His mind kept replaying the events of the past twenty-four hours, which still seemed too fantastic to believe. The only conclusion he’d reached was that his behavior on the phone the previous night had been abominable. The worst part was that he didn’t regret it as much as he should, partly because the woman intrigued him, partly because the woman infuriated him.

  Ken ran his hand down over his face. But Georgia Adams’s crankiness did not exonerate him. He dropped back onto his waterbed—just as the phone rang.

  He shot back up, his heart pounding, then relaxed with a laugh. He’d looked up Robert Trainer’s listing and discovered their numbers were one digit off from each other’s. What were the chances she’d dial it wrong again? Besides, she’d said that Robbie Boy was out of town. It was probably the station dispatcher and, hell, he wasn’t sleeping, so why not go on duty a few hours early?

  Ken yanked up the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Oh. Hi, it’s…me.”

  He instantly recognized her voice, and his body stirred.

  “I didn’t expect you to be home,” she said quickly. “I was going to leave you a message.”

  Ken bobbed up and down on his mattress. He could tell her she had the wrong number and hang up. She’d never know it was him. He could do the right thing, right now. The words hovered at the back of his dry throat.

  “Wh-when did you get back in town?” she asked.

  Or he could do the compelling thing, right now.

  Ken swallowed and held the phone away from his mouth. “Not long ago. I came back because…because I wasn’t feeling well.” He pushed down the rising guilt. He’d run a quick info sheet on Rob Trainer today, and uncovered the bare essentials of the man’s life—employment, address, background check. Did Georgia know everything about her boyfriend? Her own history was squeaky-clean, including volunteer work with the Red Cross.

  “Are your allergies bothering you again?” she asked.

  “Um, I guess.” He manufactured a cough.

  “I thought your voice sounded a little strange,” she said, “but I figured it was my new phone. If you’re under the weather, though, I’m doubly sorry to wake you. This can wait until you’re feeling better.”

  “No!” he practically shouted. “I mean, um, I was already awake and I’m glad you called.”

  “Actually, I called to apologize,” she murmured.

  He wet his chapped lips. “For what?”

  “For…disturbing you last night.”

  He smiled into the phone. “Don’t apologize. I…enjoyed it.”

  “You did?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

  “You have?”

  Especially when we were together. “Yes.”

  “I…was afraid you’d think I was being too forward.”

  Her little laugh was the breeze he’d been waiting for all night long. Ken closed his eyes. Rob Trainer didn’t deserve her. “Not at all. You were wonderful.”

  She sighed, a silky sound that made him bite back a groan. “I wish you were feeling better,” she said, her voice wistful.

  Ken sat up straighter, careful to keep the phone away from his mouth. “I feel well…enough.”

  “Well enough?” She laughed again, and his body hardened. “Well enough for an encore?”

  He slid back against the pillows and exhaled. “Absolutely.” A protest swam in the recesses of his mind, but desire chased it away. Desire for Georgia Adams. Because as wonderful as his fantasies had been the night before, now he knew what she looked like, how her skin glowed, the way her hands moved. “What are you wearing?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “It’s too hot.”

  He groaned, imagining her lying in bed, arms stretched overhead, her back arched. She reached for him, bringing him to full erection within seconds. “Georgia, my God, you’re so beautiful. Come to me.”

  “I’m here,” she said. “Kiss me…touch me.”

  “My hands…on your shoulders, arms, stomach.”

  “Mmmmmm…lower.”

  “Oh, you’re killing me.”

  “That’s it. There.”

  Her string of telltale moans tested his endurance. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he said, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  “Mmmmmm. Make love to me…now.”

  The quick sultry request nearly put him over the edge, but he held back, wanting to prolong their encounter. Her hair spilled all around, long and dark against her tangled sheets. Her breasts jutted, her thighs…welcoming. Oh, God help him. “Ahhhhhh,” he breathed, easing inside her tight channel. “Oh, yes.”

  “Mmmm…all the way,” she urged. “Yes, deeper…faster.”

  He obliged, gritting his teeth to match her rhythm without losing total control. “Georgia, I can’t…last long. You’re too much.”

  “Oh, I’m almost there…yes…” She gasped, then cried out, a desperately divine sound that drained his energy and his restraint. Ken yielded to her intensity, then matched it, their moans mingling into one song. His muscles bunched, then eased with diminishing spasms.

  A comfortable silence stretched between them as they slowly recovered. His eyelids drooped. Georgia’s sighs were definitely the cure for his insomnia.

  “Are you sleeping?”

  He blinked awake. “No.” Then he laughed. “Well, almost. That was…incredible.”

  Her laugh was musical, like a wind chime. “Want to meet for lunch tomorrow in your office building?”

  He plummeted back to earth, remembering that she believed she’d just shared an incredible experience with her boyfriend. Her lyrical laughter was meant for Rob. “Um, I think I’ll stay home and try to shake this cold.”

  “I thought you said it was allergies.”

  “Yes. No. I’m not sure.” He coughed as if a lung were in jeopardy.

  “You sound terrible. I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.”

  “No! I mean, I wouldn’t want you to catch something. I’ll be fine, really.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He felt weak with relief. “I’m sure. Your calls are all the medicine I need. Besides, not seeing each other in person for a few days will make things more…interesting.” Was that him talking, purposely perpetuating a fraud?

  “But you’re still planning to go to Stacey’s wedding Saturday afternoon, aren’t you?”

  When in doubt, dig thyself deeper into a hole. “Well…sure.”

  “I’m going early to help the bridesmaids dress, so I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay.” He made a mental note to check for a gas leak since he’d obviously lost a few brain cells.

  “Meanwhile, I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

  She had the voice of an angel. “I’m feeling better already.”

  “Good. I’ll let you go,” she said softly. “Call me when you’re back on your feet?”

  Ken hesitated. Being on the receiving end of her misdirected phone calls was one thing, but initiating contact and impersonating her boyfriend…“Why don’t you call me instead…tomorrow night?”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll be working the blood drive tomorrow evening at the municipal building, but I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “Great,” he said, his mind already leaping ahead.

  He kept the phone to his ear until the dial tone sounded, then fumbled around in the dark to replace the handset. He limped to the bathroom and turned on the light, squinting under the harsh illumination. A ten-minute hot shower did little to erase her from his mind. He toweled off quickly, his body still thrumming from their encounter, his ears still ringing with the cries of her release.

  Leaning on the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror and rubbed his darkened jaw. Women had called him handsome, even rugged, but all he ever saw in his reflection was a too-big guy whose opportunities had been based more on his brawn than his brain. And, from his conduct of late, he was definitely proving everyone right
who believed a big guy couldn’t be a mental heavyweight.

  Remorse descended on his bare shoulders, bowing them. What was he thinking? He wasn’t, of course. He, the man of steel who had vowed never to let his libido get in the way of good sense, had succumbed to a soft voice with an erotic vocabulary.

  His watch lay on the sink. Ken smiled wryly. Today was his birthday—thirty-seven. Did men have a biological clock? He laughed. He’d have to ask Klone, who spouted all that touchy-feely stuff when he wasn’t playing practical jokes. He winced in the mirror, hoping his partner hadn’t planned a birthday surprise. Good old Klone, always trying to set him up with a cousin or a niece of Louise’s, although frankly, he hadn’t met anyone who piqued his interest and his mind enough to make the rigors of romance worthwhile.

  Until now. And as luck would have it, she had no clue how good they were together. In fact, she didn’t even like him. And to make matters worse, he was helping to further the other guy’s cause. A guy who, from Ken’s cursory check, had a slightly blemished past.

  A whine from his bedroom broke into his perplexing thoughts. He wrapped the towel around his waist and padded to the nook next to the dresser where he’d made a bed for Crash, the pooch he’d accidentally struck. “Can’t sleep either, boy?” Poor little guy—he probably missed his owner and was confused about his immobility.

  The battered dog gave a little bark in response, then lowered its head.

  Ken stroked the spot between Crash’s ears that he seemed to like. The ad he’d placed in the newspaper for a found dog wouldn’t run for another week. “Until then we’re stuck with each other,” he murmured. “Hey, remember that lady doc who bandaged you up?”

  The dog looked at him with shining eyes.

  “Well, besides being gorgeous, she’s really hot, but there’s this other guy, see, and—” Ken stopped and laughed wryly. “And let’s just say if she ever finds out what I’ve done, I’d be lucky to be in the doghouse.”

  Crash lifted his head and barked his apparent agreement.

  9

  “SO NOW when I walk in, Dr. Baxter says ‘Here’s Nurse Terri who’s always very merry,’” Toni boasted of her one-sided romance with the head of obstetrics. “It’s so cute.”

  Georgia lifted an eyebrow. “The man made up a ridiculous rhyme to go with a name that isn’t even yours, and you call it progress?”

  “Well, you’re having phone sex with your boyfriend of ten months and you call that progress.”

  Touché. “Just do me a favor and tell the guy your name, okay?”

  “But he’ll be humiliated to find out he doesn’t know who he’s been talking to.”

  “What about you, the person he’s calling by the wrong name?”

  Toni sighed. “I just keep hoping he’ll glance at my name tag.” She focused on something behind Georgia. “Uh-oh, here comes Dr. Story. See ya.”

  Georgia frowned after her friend who scooted down the hall. Dr. Story, the attending E.R. physician for her shift, did not look pleased, his mouth pinched into a pucker and his glasses low on his nose. And he was making a beeline for her.

  “Good morning, Dr. Story.”

  “Nurse Adams,” he acknowledged without moving his lips. “I’ve been told that you accepted and cared for an animal yesterday in the E.R., but that couldn’t possibly be correct because by taking in an animal, you would be putting our entire program in jeopardy, risking jobs, not to mention risking the lives of patients who, in an emergency, would prefer that the nearest facility not be closed due to health violations brought on by one willful nurse who is supposed to be setting an example for the entire nursing staff.”

  If he’d stopped for a breath, she would’ve defended herself. By the time he finished his tirade, however, she simply apologized and promised that the episode would not happen again.

  “If it does,” he warned, the end of his nose moving, “you will be fired on the spot.”

  His eyes qualified his threat—no severance, no letter of recommendation and no farewell party. He turned on his heel and marched away with clicking strides. Georgia swallowed hard. Second chances in this industry were rare, and she wouldn’t blow it. At the moment, she resented Officer Medlock intensely for getting her involved with the mongrel—and for popping into her head last night while she and Rob were having…fun.

  The memory warmed her still. Maybe Rob was the man with whom she could explore her fantasies, all of them. She smiled as she prepared the meds for rounds. Imagine—a man who, much like herself, presented a stoic face to the world, when deep down, he, too, was probably looking for someone to unlock his passions.

  How remarkable that they’d found each other. She kept smiling and nodding to herself, trying to ignore the nagging image of Ken Medlock’s face inches from hers after he’d wrapped his big arms around her and squeezed a hunk of bread from her throat. So the man was…obliging. Big deal. Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. So he’d saved a dog’s life and hers in the space of a few hours. Wasn’t that the man’s job, for heaven’s sake? She saved lives every day in the E.R., so if Officer Ken thought she owed him something for that pedestrian procedure he’d performed in the mall, he had another think coming, assuming there was much thinking going on between the big man’s ears. She set her jaw and forced his face from her mind.

  Thank goodness the day passed with relative ease. Especially nice since she’d be volunteering at the blood drive until late in the evening. She’d be ready to relax with Rob on the phone by the time she arrived home. A wonderful by-product of their sensual sessions was the great sleep afterward, despite the suffocating temperature in her apartment.

  Georgia left the hospital around three in the afternoon, emerging in heat so oppressive, she was instantly worried about the turnout for the blood drive. Most people wanted to give, but many looked for a reason to “wait until next time.” The heat was keeping people indoors under air conditioners, which had overburdened the power plants to the point of brown-outs all over the city. An increasing number of the E.R. patient ailments were heat-related.

  She fanned herself with a small notebook she found in her purse, conceding that hormones also rose with the temperature. That might explain why a straightlaced New Englander like herself was behaving strangely, having phone sex with one man while fantasizing about another. If it weren’t a felony, it was, at the very least, an extravagant sin.

  She aimed for her normal seat on the end of the bus stop bench, but halted in her tracks at the sight of a flapping yellow flyer on the post of a nearby sign. Lost dog. Mixed breed, male, long multicolored hair. Answers to the name Tralfaz. Georgia made a face. Tralfaz? No wonder the poor dog ran away.

  After writing down the number listed at the bottom of the flyer, she pursed her mouth when a thought came to her. The police station was only a block or so away from the municipal building. Maybe she would drop the number off with Officer Medlock on the way. He’d probably taken the dog to an animal shelter, but she could at least make an effort—but only for the rather cute dog’s sake, she told herself during the cramped bus ride.

  She had never been inside a police precinct before. Amazing how the mere presence of so many uniformed officers could make one feel so conspicuous, as if within these halls, one’s transgressions were as apparent as a swallowed coin in an x-ray. (Her sister had warned her, but she had to try it anyway.)

  Inside, the place was chaotic—she hadn’t realized so much criminal activity was going on in this adopted city of hers. She waited in line for twenty-five minutes to talk to an imposed-upon middle-aged man with eyebrows so bushy she couldn’t help but stare.

  “May I help you?” he barked.

  “I’m looking for Officer Ken Medlock.”

  He looked her up and down, then gave her the most curious smile. “Is this about a police matter?”

  Georgia glanced down at her white uniform, a fitted skirt and tailored blouse—she’d wanted to look her best this morning for her expected dressing-down from Dr. Story. Her ha
ir was pulled back into a tight, rolled bun. She’d forgotten to remove her stethoscope, but otherwise she failed to see the humor in her appearance. “No, my business is personal.”

  His remarkable eyebrows climbed. “Oh?” Then his eyes widened. “Oh. Just a moment.” He picked up the phone and spoke into it, then hung up, grinning. “Right this way.”

  She followed the man through a maze of hallways and bullpens, but grew increasingly uncomfortable when she realized they were picking up a crowd of officers along the way. What the devil was going on?

  “Ken,” the man bellowed. “Happy Birthday, man!”

  Ken Medlock turned, caught her eye, then unfolded himself slowly from his desk, his face a mask of surprise. Georgia swallowed in dismay—the man was just as attractive as she remembered, darn it. His hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it. Lucky hands.

  “Well?” The bushy-eyebrowed man gestured toward her. “Didn’t you bring your own music?”

  She squinted at the man. Was he senile?

  “What’s going on?” Ken asked the people circling around.

  “Klone got you a stripper for your birthday!” the man shouted. The group broke into raucous applause and whoops of encouragement.

  Georgia froze. A stripper? They thought she was a stripper? She glared at Ken, whose eyes bugged, although he clearly wasn’t as bothered by the idea as she.

  She crossed her arms and mouthed, “Do something.”

  “Time out, guys,” he shouted, T-ing his hands. When everyone quieted, he said, “Miss Adams here is a registered nurse at County.”

  Shocked silence fell around them. The man who had greeted her mumbled an apology, then melted away with the rest of the shuffling group. Her skin tingled with embarrassment and she was certain her cheeks were scarlet. Were her encounters with this man destined to be awkward?

  When they were alone by his desk, he wiped an amused smile from his face with his hand. “Hi.”