Too hot to sleep

by Stephanie Bond

  “I’m from…Cincinnati.”

  Georgia laughed. “I know that. I mean, what was your childhood like? I don’t even know if you have brothers and sisters.”

  “Oh, well, you know…I’d rather hear about you.”

  “What about me?”

  “Have you ever told me why you became a nurse?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think so.”

  “So tell me.”

  Georgia squirmed against the pillow at her back as memories flooded over her. Not all bad, not all good. “I guess I was always the family fixer. My father worked a lot.” And then there were George Adams’s occasional affairs, which she wasn’t ready to share. “My sister and my mother were so much alike, they communicated through arguing.”

  “So you were the peacemaker and the healer.”

  “I suppose. I was also into photography. When I was seventeen, I came upon a car accident scene and pulled out my camera. But when I developed the pictures, I realized I’d used all my film to capture the paramedics and a nurse who had happened by. They were amazing…selfless.”

  “There were survivors?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, the memory keen. “Everyone survived. I decided that the next time I came upon an emergency, I wanted to be able to do more than take a picture. I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “You got your wish.”

  She gave a little scoffing laugh. “If I don’t get myself fired for taking care of dogs.”

  “It was that cop’s fault, not yours.”

  She sighed. “Well, he was trying to do a nice thing—he just caught me at a really bad time and put me in an awkward situation. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have reacted so…strongly.”

  “I’m sure he feels the same way. Don’t lose sleep over it.”

  She wouldn’t, although the memory of the man hiding his arousal with his hat might make for a bit of sheep-counting.

  “Anything else interesting happen today?” he asked.

  She liked this change in him. Rob was never much on small talk, but she rather enjoyed sharing the ordinary bits of the day. “Not much happened today. But I did receive a letter from my mother, yesterday.”

  “Oh?”

  “Even living across the country, she has the uncanny ability to make me feel twelve years old.”

  “Mothers are good that way. Did she give you grief about still being single?”

  “W-well, sort of.”

  “Just doing her job.”

  She sighed. “I suppose. Is your mother just as bad?”

  “Er, aren’t they all?”

  “When will I get to meet your parents?”

  He lapsed into a coughing spasm. “Georgia, I’m suddenly not feeling very well. I think my medicine is wearing off. Could we—” He coughed again, longer and harder. “Could we finish this discussion some other time?”

  “Sure,” she murmured, sorry for her ill-timing. Darn Ken Medlock for stirring things up inside her. Feeling awkward, she squirmed against her pillows. “How about—”

  “I have to run,” he cut in. “Call me tomorrow night?”

  “Okay.” But he had already hung up. She replaced the phone, chastising herself for being so inconsiderate while he was under the weather. They would have plenty of time to talk on Saturday at the wedding. Georgia noticed the light on her message machine was flashing; someone had called while she was talking to Rob. She pushed the Play button.

  “Thank you for buying this Temeteck product! This is a test message to allow you to adjust the volume. Press ‘1’ if you don’t want this message to play again.”

  Georgia groaned and pushed “1.” She hated the stupid machine. Maybe something was wrong with it. Hoping a bowl of ice cream would help her go to sleep—in lieu of an orgasm—she walked to the kitchen in T-shirt and panties, stood in front of the open freezer door for a couple of minutes to cool off, then carried the snack to the living room and dropped onto the couch.

  An upholstered brick. She had furnished what was supposed to be the most comfortable room in the house with a beige upholstered brick. What on earth did Rob see in this horrid couch? She spooned in the first mouthful of Cherry Garcia, then wondered idly what Rob saw in her. He’d said she was beautiful, but did he see the secret side of her that loved to try on hats and eat ice cream in her underwear?

  A few days ago, she’d been on the verge of calling it quits with Rob, but now…now she’d discovered this surprisingly erotic and vulnerable side of him. She was anxious to see him on Saturday, to see if he acted differently, more relaxed. Hopefully the phone sex would open other doors of communication; it had so far. Perhaps they would discover they had more in common than their penchant for detail and love of foreign films.

  The phone rang, and she reached for the extension. “Hello?”

  “You’ve been holding out on me,” Toni accused.

  Georgia laughed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about that big hunky cop who delivered the entire Birmingham city police department to our door. He’s gorgeous, and you were so witchy to him!”

  “Ken Medlock almost got me fired,” Georgia reminded her.

  “But he tripled the blood bank reserves single-handedly in a matter of hours.”

  “He only pulled that stunt so I’d have to buy him a hot dog tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh, how romantic!”

  “Toni, the man knows he gets on my nerves, and this is just another way to get on my nerves. I went along with it because it was for a good cause.”

  “I think he has the hots for you. All that ‘yes, ma’am-ing’—Lordy, he’s downright fattening.”

  “Stop it!” She didn’t want to think about it. More.

  “I’m serious—it’s probably all that phone sex.”

  “Okay, you lost me.”

  “Vibes! You’re giving off sex vibes, Georgia, and the cop is picking up on them. Sex begets sex.”

  “I thought that to beget is to have sex.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Well, I’m not interested.”

  “Why not?”

  She swirled her spoon in her bowl and frowned. “Because I have Rob, and I think we’re finally getting over the emotional plateau we’ve been on for so long. He’s starting to open up.”

  “That’s good…I guess.”

  “Of course it’s good. Why wouldn’t it be good?”

  “I don’t know…the expression on that cop’s face. I’ve never seen Rob look at you that way.”

  “You mean with ridicule?”

  Toni laughed. “If you ask me, I think this Medlock guy is getting you all worked up, and Rob is getting the payout.”

  Her spoon clanged against the bowl. “That’s absurd. And I don’t take love advice from a woman who lets a man call her by the wrong name just to spare his ego.”

  Toni sighed. “I’m going to tell Dr. Baxter tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m going to tell him I changed my name legally from ‘Terri’ to ‘Toni.’”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “I’d better let you go so you’ll be rested up for your date tomorrow with Officer Medlock.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a date. It’s vending food in a public park.”

  “Did you tell Rob about it?”

  She hesitated. “No.”

  “I rest my case. Night-night.”

  Georgia frowned at the phone, then, pretending it was Ken Medlock, bounced it off a stiff cushion. Who was he to barge into her life just when things were starting to go so well with Rob?

  12

  ALL MORNING LONG, Ken’s moods swung between elation that he’d be seeing Georgia this afternoon for his victory “meal,” and self-loathing for carrying the ruse this far. He’d had to cut the conversation short last night because she was venturing into territory that was likely to land him in deep hooey.

  Things
were getting out of control, namely, his attraction to the woman. Hoping that blockhead Rob had skipped town for good and this mess would somehow resolve itself, he’d called the man’s office and was told by a messaging service that Rob was likely to return to Birmingham sometime Sunday. It didn’t explain, however, why the man hadn’t at least called Georgia from wherever he’d gone. The ingrate.

  Still, Rob’s loss was his gain, at least until Sunday when the fertilizer would hit the fan. For the next couple of days, he would try to win over Georgia. Maybe with the double whammy of finding out Rob wasn’t the man she’d been talking to, and with Ken’s unflagging attention, she would break up with the guy.

  Ken scratched his temple with the screwdriver he had used to install a box fan in the window of his bedroom. On the other hand, was that the way he wanted to win over Georgia—through embarrassment and by default?

  Besides, what the heck would he do with her if he got her? A woman like Georgia probably bought potpourri by the truckload. And the most important thing to him right now was being the best cop he could be. Darn it, the woman barely tolerated him and she was already treading on his concentration. How bad would it be if he had unlimited access to her? Bad. Very bad.

  Thankfully, Georgia would have no way of tying the phone calls to him even after she discovered she’d been dialing the wrong number. His phone machine featured a mechanical voice with a generic message. As a police officer, his number was unlisted and protected, so it wouldn’t show up on caller ID screens or work with those newfangled call-back features.

  He sighed. And, as a police officer, his conduct was supposed to be of a higher standard than mere civilians. His own loneliness was no excuse for deceiving an innocent woman, even if at first he had thought her to be not so innocent. Sometime, somehow this afternoon he would find a way to tell her the truth.

  Georgia (big grin), want to hear something funny?

  Georgia (shaking head), you’re going to laugh when I tell you this.

  Georgia (stepping out of striking distance), you’re not going to believe this, but…

  Who was he kidding? He’d be lucky if the woman didn’t filet him. He hadn’t broken any written laws, but it didn’t take a mental giant to recognize he’d tread upon several unwritten laws.

  Geez, Louise, what was he going to do now?

  He could simply forget about her, he decided, seeing as how she wasn’t keen on him anyway. He’s not my type. If she called him again accidentally, he could just tell her she had the wrong number and hang up. End of story.

  He ran his hand over his face, trying to erase the image of her smiling face, bantering with him last night at the blood drive, maintaining that stern facade. Was he the only man who knew how uninhibited she could be?

  From his bed on the floor, Crash barked, reminding Ken that there were more pressing matters than his infatuation with Nurse Georgia Adams. Since he’d pulled an early morning shift for an ill fellow officer, Ken had the rest of the day off to anticipate and dread his afternoon meeting with Georgia. She clocked out at three, so they were scheduled to meet at Herrington Park around three-thirty. He glanced at the clock. An hour from now.

  “How about some fresh air?” he asked the dog.

  Crash barked twice.

  Ken gave the screws on the fan box mount a few more turns, then repacked his toolbox. “Okay, give me a minute to figure out how I can make you mobile, and we’ll go to the park. Maybe I can figure out a way to come clean once she gets there.” He stopped and appraised the bandaged dog as an idea popped into his head. “And maybe she won’t kill me if I look impossibly cute.”

  “OH, HOW CUTE,” Georgia murmured despite herself when she saw Ken coming toward her on the sidewalk. Not him, although he did look surprisingly different and less intimidating in jeans and a navy T-shirt, but the bandaged dog he pulled behind him in the little red wagon. What did Ken say he had named him—Crash?

  “Hi,” Ken said as they strolled up. “I brought some company, hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” she said, stooping to stroke the dog’s fur. “He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he?”

  “He takes after me,” Ken said with a big grin.

  She gave him a crooked smile, trying her best to resist his charm. Darn the big man, and his energy pulling at her. In her weakened state, after a night of tossing and turning and a hectic eight-hour shift, she was susceptible. Her immunity to him was lowered, and it scared her. Plus her friend Toni hadn’t helped matters by teasing her all day about her “date.”

  “I was afraid you’d changed your mind,” he said.

  Georgia gave the dog one last scratch on the head before standing. “No. Last-minute emergency.” Of course, she couldn’t very well admit the emergency had been her appearance—her hair was flattened by a sterile cap she’d worn most of the day. Her makeup had worn off long ago, and she hadn’t brought replacements with her, nor was she about to ask Toni for spares. She’d brought khaki shorts and sandals to change into, but the plain pink shirt she’d hoped to leave on had been compromised by a teenager with food poisoning. Desperate, she’d bought a yellow T-shirt in the gift shop that said Laughter is the best medicine. A nice sentiment, but hardly worth twenty-four dollars.

  Ken rubbed his flat stomach, the muscles in his forearm bunching. “Just gave me more time to work up an appetite.”

  And she’d bet the man could eat. From her nutrition classes, she estimated his weight, then took into account his probable activity level, and came up with an astronomical amount of calories he needed every day to maintain his build. One hot dog? The man could probably eat a dozen.

  But he settled for two, loaded with relish, and a plain one for Crash. Georgia ordered another one with relish for herself, but was still rifling for cash when she realized Ken had already paid the vendor for their food and colas. “It was supposed to be my treat,” she protested.

  “The treat’s all mine,” he assured her, gathering their food in his arms. “Will you pull Crash?”

  Feeling a little foolish, she picked up the handle of the wagon and followed Ken to a picnic table under a sprawling hardwood tree.

  “Is this okay?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Her pulse jerked stupidly—she had no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t as if they were on a date or something.

  “Are you a photographer too?” he asked, nodding to her camera bag.

  She blushed. “Amateur. It’s an old manual 35 mm, but it takes decent pictures. I’ve been wanting to get some shots of the park anyway.” She didn’t add that a photo shoot also made their little get-together seem like less of a date to her.

  “Would you be willing to take one of Crash?” he asked. “I took out an ad, but I might have a better chance of finding his owner if I had a picture.”

  She hesitated, only because it would perpetuate their interaction.

  “I’d be glad to pay you,” he added.

  “Nonsense,” she said quickly, feeling foolish. “I’d be glad to take a couple if it meant reuniting him with his owner.”

  His smile was dangerously pleasing. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Oh, my. “Are you off duty today?” she asked, gesturing to his clothing.

  He nodded, arranging their food so they could sit facing each other. The picnic table gleamed with a fresh coat of forest-green paint. “I pulled early morning duty.”

  She lowered herself to the cool seat, glad she’d taken the time to pull her hair up and off her neck with a clip. “You must be tired.”

  He shrugged, sending lots of muscle into motion. She peeled her gaze away as he sat down. “I’m not used to getting much sleep—I have problems with insomnia.”

  Georgia blinked. “So do I.”

  He handed her a hot dog on a little paper plate. “It’s probably our jobs, weird hours, the stress. You’re a nurse—what do you do for yours?”

  Georgia choked on her first drink of soda. I have phone sex with my boyfriend. While I’m thinking abo
ut you. She gulped air. Last week she was a frustrated almost-virgin, this week she was a phone wench.

  Ken cocked his head. “Do you have problems swallowing?”

  Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she frowned. “Not usually.”

  “So what about the insomnia?”

  She chewed slowly, carefully, then swallowed. “Try to relieve some of the stress in your life.”

  “I exercise, but it doesn’t seem to help.”

  Georgia fidgeted with her straw. “What about…your personal relationships?”

  He stopped chewing. “What about them?”

  “Well, do you…have any?”

  “If you’re asking if I have a girlfriend, I don’t.”

  She tucked the tidbit away in her subconscious, then shook her head. “I mean friends—co-workers, neighbors.”

  “I know a lot of people, but I’m not sure if I’d call all of them friends.”

  “Bingo,” she said. “You told me you were close to your family and now they’re not around. You’re probably in need of emotional c-companionship.”

  He lifted one dark brow.

  Squirming on her seat, she spotted the dog and seized the ungraceful way out. “Like Crash. Pets are known to lower blood pressure and to relieve stress.”

  “It is nice having someone else around the place.”

  “I’ve been thinking about buying a pet myself,” she admitted. “For the company.”

  “You don’t live with your boyfriend?”

  How did the man know every button of hers to push? “No.” She was alone, with a couch like a stone.

  His brown eyes danced. “So you two aren’t that serious?”

  “We’re not engaged, if that’s what you mean.” Although if their relationship was progressing as she hoped, perhaps her mother could be reigning over wedding plans sometime in the near future.

  “Have you ever been married?” he asked.

  “No. You?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Okay. No ambiguity there. She was wasting the afternoon with a dead-end flirt when she should be consoling her ill boyfriend and exploring the new dimension of their relationship.

  Sights and sounds and smells and touches descended all around Georgia, and suddenly she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The blue sky, the cool breeze, the children laughing in the playground—all of it a ploy, to make her think that she was in charmed company. She took another bite of the hot dog, thinking the faster she ate, the sooner she could escape.