I try to be an honest person…just as I expect the man I’m seeing to be honest with me.
His track record on honesty took him out of the running anyway, Ken noted wryly.
“Medlock?” the guy asked, waving a hand to recapture his attention. “You want it?”
Disgusted with himself for caring about a woman who’d made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t interested in him, he nodded. “I’ll take the seven thirty slot. Gratis, for the church.”
The clerk pursed his mouth as he made a note. “Mighty nice of you.” Then he grinned. “Penance to pay?”
Ken smirked, then grabbed a cup of coffee and returned to his desk, feeling somewhat better. The one upside of not dating Georgia—he would never have to confess that he’d been the man who’d taken the sexual pleasures she’d intended for her boyfriend. He drank deeply of the coffee, still marveling over the week’s events. Considering how quickly the situation had snowballed, he should be thanking his lucky stars to have escaped relatively unscathed.
He sat back in his chair with a resigned nod. Yes—lucky, lucky, lucky.
“Hey, Medlock.”
Ken turned and jerked his chin up to acknowledge a colleague approaching his desk. “Yeah, Booker?”
“I’m in a bind. I signed up for the three-thirty wedding at St. Michael’s, and I just remembered I’m supposed to take my father-in-law golfing. Don’t suppose you’d—”
“Absolutely.”
16
KEEPING HIS MIND on directing the traffic into the church parking lot from a busy street was difficult when, one, he knew Georgia didn’t have a car, and two, he knew that she was planning to arrive early and was undoubtedly already inside. He did, however, keep his eyes peeled for a 1999 black Lexus with a tag number matching the one in his head.
But by the time the wedding was about to be underway, he still hadn’t seen one. When the parking lot started crowding, he left the street traffic to the other officer and directed last-minute arrivals into the nearest empty spots. Not the most exciting job, but police work wasn’t always exciting. His vital signs did accelerate, however, when he caught a flash of blue darting through the parking lot. Georgia?
He smiled involuntarily. Georgia. In a long blue flowery dress that hugged her form, holding an adorable hat on her head so she wouldn’t lose it in her haste. She skidded to a halt next to a white car, peered inside, then seemed to be trying every key on a ring. Ken jogged through the rows of cars. “Georgia.”
She jerked her head around, and her eyes bugged. “What are you doing here?”
“Volunteer work for the church, ma’am,” he said casually, belying the tattoo of his heart at the sight of her. God, she was beautiful—no, magnificent with her shining hair falling around her shoulders. Just as he’d imagined. “Is there a problem?”
She pointed to the car. “The bride wrote her own vows, but left them lying on the front seat. See?”
He nodded.
“But none of these keys seem to work,” she said, trying one or two of them again.
“This is a Toyota,” he said. “Those look like Ford keys to me.”
She squinted. “Stacey gave me the wrong keys!”
He shook his head and pulled out a slim tool. “I’m not supposed to do this for just anybody, but since I know you and since this is an emergency, I’ll make an exception.”
Her grin when the door popped open was reward enough. “Thank you!” She leaned in to snatch the sheet of paper, giving him a breath-stealing view of her legs as the skirt kicked up. She relocked the door, then swung it shut. “Well…it was nice to see you again,” she said, her voice a bit nervous.
He touched the brim of his hat, then watched until she disappeared inside the cathedral. His heart pounded, his body straining forward, compelling him to go after her. Ken forced himself to return to his job, but when his colleague said he would take care of parking the stragglers, Ken removed his hat and ventured inside the cathedral, turning at the staircase and walking up into the balcony, which was empty save for the videographer.
He hung back, scouring the audience below. He found her hat and enjoyed a leisurely look at her as she peeked over her shoulder toward the entrance of the church in anticipation of the ceremony starting—or maybe of her boyfriend arriving? There was an empty space next to her on the pew, which irritated him immensely. Rob had obviously known about the wedding before Ken had promised for him to “do his best to come.” Perhaps the business that had called him out of town had kept him from returning to Birmingham, which still didn’t explain why the man hadn’t at least called Georgia to say he wouldn’t be there.
The organist started playing softly, then the ceremony began. The groomsmen filed in, and Ken studied the groom, who seemed composed except for rocking back and forth on his heels. Ken felt for him and couldn’t fathom being in his shoes. Taking a vow to forsake all others for the rest of your life—scary. His parents had beat the odds, going on forty years of marriage, but these days, things were different. People were different, not as strong, not as dedicated.
His gaze went back to Georgia and he bit down on the inside of his cheek. Was that why he felt so drawn to the woman? Because she seemed so complex, this woman with the face of an angel whose passionate phone calls would test the devil himself? He squirmed, his stomach burning with want and guilt and some unidentifiable urge to find out what made her tick. A hot flush burned his neck when he realized how he would seem if someone knew what was going on—watching a woman from a balcony with whom he’d been having phone sex without her knowledge.
He swallowed, himself confused by the battery of emotions pulling at him. He’d never thought of himself as some guy who couldn’t take no for an answer. But he had the horrible feeling that something really wonderful was slipping through his fingers. Of all the numbers in Birmingham, why had she called his by accident? And why had he responded? And why had they met the following day?
If he gave up now, was he turning his back on fate?
The bridesmaids filed in—he thought one of them was the skinny little friend of Georgia’s from the blood drive—and the rest of the wedding party. Then, on the organist’s cue, everyone stood as the bride made her way down the aisle. With her back to him, it was easy for Ken to imagine Georgia in the woman’s place, approaching the altar with fluid movements. He frowned wryly, projecting Rob’s unknown face onto the groom. Was the guy a model type, with spiffy clothes and a fifty-dollar haircut? His ride was expensive enough, and his address put him in a ritzy part of town.
He stole glances at Georgia as the ceremony proceeded. She was rapt, giving solemn attention to the minister’s words. Was she foreseeing her own wedding? Would the vows exchanged today either strengthen or weaken her commitment to Robert Trainer?
And the ceremony itself seemed to be going well, with appropriate smiles and nods—until a commotion in the back captured the attention of everyone in the church. Ken couldn’t see what was going on directly beneath the balcony, but his instincts kicked in the instant he saw the expressions of panic and horror. He crouched and crept to the front of the balcony, then glanced down through the rails as a man came into view.
“Stacey,” the man shouted, his body shaking. “You can’t marry him!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ken noticed the videographer had left his chair and was aiming the camera downward.
“Darren,” the bride said, her eyes wide. “You shouldn’t be here.” Ken could hear the woman’s fear.
The groom’s face had turned a mottled shade. “How dare you show your face, Haney.” Then, as any self-respecting challenged groom would do, he started for the man, his eyes blazing.
But when the man whipped out a knife, the groom stopped short and guests drew back. Involuntarily, Ken’s eyes flew to Georgia, who had turned around and looked horrified. Thanks to his crouched position, she hadn’t noticed him in the balcony, and neither had anyone else, except for the cameraman.
“Come o
n,” the crazy man shouted at the groom, stabbing the air with his blade. “I told you before that if you’re going to marry Stacey, you’ll have to get past me first!”
Ken’s mind raced, sizing up the situation. The man stood directly beneath him. He could simply announce his presence and draw his weapon, but something about brandishing a gun in church didn’t sit well in his gut. His gaze fell upon the metal folding chair the videographer had vacated, and the solution hit him.
GEORGIA’S HEART lodged in her throat. One minute she had pushed aside the hurt of Rob not showing and immersed herself in the unfolding ceremony, and the next a knife-wielding lunatic had taken the church hostage. A memory stirred—Toni mentioning something about Stacey having a creepy ex-boyfriend. She swallowed hard. From his wild-eyed look and the size of that knife, someone was going to get hurt.
A movement in the balcony caught her eye. The videographer was capturing everything on film, and—she gulped—Ken Medlock was holding a folding metal chair over the madman’s head. Her heart soared crazily. Then four seconds later, it was all over—the knife fell to the carpet, harmless, and the man lay on his side, moaning, with a bloody gash on his forehead. Several male guests jumped to restrain him.
But at the sight of blood, her own instincts kicked in. She elbowed past the people in her pew and threaded her way through the crowd. “Excuse me, I’m a nurse. Excuse me.”
She stepped over the knife, then knelt to scrutinize the man’s wound. She sensed, rather than heard, Ken Medlock stride up behind her. The man had such an uncanny knack for being…around. And when had she started liking it?
Moving with power and economy of motion, he picked up the knife with a handkerchief and wrapped it. The man emanated quiet authority. “Everyone, step back,” he said, waving. He pulled out a set of handcuffs and knelt to the floor. “That means you, too, ma’am,” he murmured for her ears only.
She glanced up and was distracted for a split second by his serious brown eyes. “He might have a concussion.”
“He also might have a death wish,” he said. “And if he tried to hurt you, I’d have to shoot him. So,” he added with a little smile, “please step aside until I can cuff him.”
She considered a battle, but was moved by the sincerity of his expression. Ken made her feel…grounded. And secure. And very, very aroused. She swallowed, then moved back in concession.
“Will you hold this, ma’am?” he asked, extending the wrapped knife.
She took it gingerly, surprised by its weight, her mind reeling with other possible outcomes of the situation. An incredibly calm hero, Ken cuffed the man’s wrists behind him just as the groom, Neil, walked up with a teary-eyed Stacey.
“Thank you, Officer,” Neil said, flushed and flustered, Stacey clinging to his arm.
Georgia stepped forward. “Neil Childers and Stacey Alexander, this is Officer Ken Medlock. Ken is…” She looked at him and her heart jerked crazily. “Ken is a friend.”
“You’re here with Georgia?” the groom asked.
Ken seemed amused. She was sure her cheeks were scarlet as she added, “He’s a friend of Rob’s.”
“I was handling traffic for the church,” Ken offered. “I take it you all know this guy?”
They nodded, their faces grim. “Darren Haney and I dated two years ago,” Stacey said.
“I still love you, Stacey,” the man moaned, his eyes barely open.
“There’s a restraining order on him,” Neil said, his mouth twisting, his hold on Stacey tight.
“I’ll take care of him,” Ken said. “You might have to fill out some paperwork later, but I wouldn’t let this creep ruin your day. Can you stand?” he asked the man.
“Don’t know,” the guy moaned.
“Try,” Ken said, pulling him to his feet. He looked at Georgia, then nodded toward the vestibule. “Let’s take this out in the hall.”
She turned to Stacey and gave her an encouraging smile. “Ken’s right. If you allow this jerk to ruin your wedding, he’ll win.”
The bride exchanged questioning glances with her groom, then smiled and nodded. “We’ll wait for you to come back in.”
“No,” Georgia said, shaking her head. “This could take a while. If I’m not here when you come out, I’ll see you at the reception.”
“Did Rob make it?” Stacey asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“So bring Officer Medlock. We’ll save him a bottle of champagne as a small token of thanks.” Neil echoed the invitation.
She hesitated, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll ask, b-but he seems to be a very b-busy man.” The man would probably have to return to the Bat Cave or something.
“Thanks for helping out with this mess,” Stacey said. “We’ll look for you both at the country club.”
Georgia conjured up a reassuring smile and backed out of the chapel, closing the doors behind her. She stared at the knife she held, still incredulous. At the sound of a moan behind her, she turned, donning her professional face.
Ken had deposited the man on a padded bench, lying on his side. She handed the wrapped knife to Ken, then knelt to check the man’s pulse, alertness and the extent of the wound.
“He’s going to need a few stitches,” she said, straightening. “And his vision seems clear, but he probably should have a CAT scan and spend the night under psych observation.”
“What the hell did you drop on my head?” the man mumbled.
“A ton of bricks,” Ken snapped, “which is apparently what it takes to get the point across that your old girlfriend doesn’t want you in her life.” He recited the man his rights, then pulled him to his feet. “I’ll take the guy to County—it’s the closest facility.”
“I’ll come with you.” Georgia blinked. Had she really said that? “I can help arrange a psych consultation once we get there.”
“But you’ll miss the wedding.”
“I told Stacey and Neil that we’d…that I’d catch up with them later,” she said with a shrug, astonished to realize that she’d rather ride in a squad car with this man to a place where she already spent too much time, than attend a wedding for which she’d bought a special outfit.
“Won’t your boyfriend miss you?”
“He…couldn’t make it.” Georgia swallowed. Was it immoral to have a pseudo-date with a man before she’d officially broken off with her boyfriend if the only thing preventing her from breaking off with her boyfriend was that he hadn’t shown up?
Ken’s smile sent a stab of desire to her midsection that banished her thoughts of Rob, guilty or otherwise. “That’s too bad,” he said, but his decidedly unsympathetic tone gave her a little thrill.
She followed him to his squad car and slid into the front passenger seat when he opened the door for her. After he took the driver’s seat, he radioed an apparent partner on the church grounds and informed him of the situation, then called in his arrest of the man and reported his intention to take him to County. She watched him, fascinated by his efficient speech and his professionalism. Her body fairly hummed with awareness of his proximity, the images of the fantasy shower show she’d given him last night ringing in her mind. The man would be shocked if he knew her thoughts.
He replaced the radio handset and started the car. “I’ll drop you off at the reception as soon as we’re through. With any luck, you’ll be there by the time they cut the cake.”
She wet her lips as they pulled out of the church parking lot. “Neil and Stacy asked me to invite you to the reception, said they’d save you a bottle of champagne as a token of their gratitude.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Ken, someone could have been killed,” she murmured, not even attempting to hide her admiration for his quick thinking. “You always seem to know exactly what to do.”
His profile seemed more serious than the conversation warranted. “No, believe me, I don’t always know what to do. But I’m glad in this instance that no one was seriously injured.” Then he gestu
red to his clothing. “Unfortunately, I can’t enjoy that champagne while in uniform.” He stopped for a red light.
“Do you live in the vicinity of the Arrowood Country Club?”
“About five minutes from there.”
“Then why not stop and change first? I don’t mind waiting.”
His smile of anticipation sent her pulse skyrocketing. He flipped a switch and his blue lights began flashing, the siren wailing. “But I do.”
17
“COME ON UP,” Ken said as he shifted into Park. “I’ll just be a few minutes and you can say hello to Crash.”
Georgia hesitated, then realized she was being silly. Ken Medlock, superhero, was completely trustworthy. Besides, she was curious to see his living space. She followed him up two flights of stairs, then stopped at a nondescript door sporting the number twenty-four. She toyed with her hat, unable to completely ignore the intimate implications of entering his apartment. He, on the other hand, seemed fully at ease as he swung open the door. Georgia wondered briefly if he entertained female guests on a regular basis, then walked inside.
She hadn’t expected a tasteful, comfortably decorated, clean apartment with real live plants and pictures of his family studding the built-in bookshelves. “Nice,” she said.
“Something to drink?”
She shook her head, suddenly nervous, then fanned herself. “Gee, and I thought my apartment was the warmest place in Birmingham.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a shrug. “I keep complaining, but this place is still like an oven. By evening it’s almost too hot to sleep.”
His words sent an erotic thrill through her. Her thighs quickened. During his bouts of insomnia, did he ever lie awake thinking about her? She couldn’t drag her gaze from his thick arms, imagining them around her. The tension hung heavy in the thick air.
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