Too Hot to Sleep. Stephanie Bond
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Georgia bit into her lower lip, realizing she’d never thought about the kinds of things Rob might say about her to his friends. Would he tell them about the phone sex? She had told Toni, but only because Toni had encouraged her to share her fantasies with Rob in the first place. And she trusted Toni as a confidante.
But the idea of Rob’s friends knowing made her extremely uneasy. Almost as uneasy as the fact that she didn’t know whether Rob would tell them.
In truth, she really didn’t know that much about the habits and acquaintances of the man whom she’d met at the party of a friend of a friend going on ten months ago. They had met over soggy egg rolls and talked about a movie they’d both seen and hated. She hadn’t been bowled over, but he was nice and seemed nonpsychotic—a definite bonus in today’s singles market.
When Rob Trainer had called a week later to invite her to a Chamber of Commerce cocktail party, she’d said yes, and they’d been seeing each other regularly since. Hectic schedules on both their parts had minimized their dating time to scant weekends and occasional day trips out of Birmingham. Yet even when they were together, Rob wasn’t a chatty fellow. His parents were from Cincinnati, but now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned siblings.
But still waters ran deep. Rob was a handsome, pleasant man with enough ambition for three people. So what if he wasn’t always thoughtful and romantic—what man was? An unbidden image of Officer Ken’s anxious expression over the injured dog pulled at her heart. Was Rob an animal lover? She doubted it, considering what a neatnik he was. But in her musings, she was starting to realize how few personal details she knew about the man with whom she had initiated phone sex. For all she knew, he could be a serial killer with a low sex drive. Maybe that was why he was to familiar Officer Ken.
Then she scoffed at her own silliness. For a straightlaced guy like Rob, a mere parking citation would be tantamount to a public flogging. Rob hadn’t been quite as forthcoming with his background as she’d been with hers, but one thing she did know about her boyfriend—he was by the book.
Er, excluding The Joy of Sex, that is.
A staccato honk pulled her gaze from the spot she’d last seen the attractive police officer. The bus driver glared at her through the open door. “You comin’ or not, lady?”
Georgia jumped to her feet and bounded aboard. If she didn’t stop daydreaming, she’d never finish her errands. But even squeezing into a crowded seat among noisy passengers couldn’t distract her from the recollection of Ken Medlock’s rugged frame. Were Rob’s shoulders that wide? She might stop locking her doors if every Birmingham police officer evoked that kind of security.
With a rueful sigh, she acknowledged the only reason she had responded physically to the uniformed man was that her late-night session with Rob had awakened disobedient places within her. Places that—dwelled upon for mere seconds, like now—sprang to life. Her thighs tingled, her breasts tightened, her stomach clenched. Her gaze remained fixed on the back of the seat in front of her. Her focus blurred, and external noises diminished to a static buzz.
Slices of their chance encounter jumped into her brain randomly, like a trailer to a movie. His square jawline, his broad nose, his sincere eyes. Nurse Adams, thank you for giving me peace of mind. His smile, his gratitude for her assistance. D-don’t I know you from somewhere?
Had he felt it too—a connection? An electric physical attraction born of proximity and a common goal?
She admonished herself for thinking sexy thoughts about a man she just met, but something about Officer Ken Medlock seemed familiar. Or maybe his all-American robust good looks just made him seem approachable, as if he were someone she should know—like a handsome man in a magazine ad whose eyes reached out to a woman, telling her she was special and if only he could walk off the page, he would make her his. It could happen.
“Town Center Mall!” the driver shouted, yanking her from her schoolgirl fantasies. Georgia disembarked slowly, still suffering from the surreal effects of her musings, and headed in the direction of a shop Toni had recommended to buy a dress for Stacey’s wedding. Her friend had described the clothes at Latest & Greatest as “cool duds on the cheap” and insisted Georgia ask for Tom Tom.
But Tom Tom, as it turned out, was two men, both named Tom, who were apparently unrelated, yet spoke in tandem.
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