Too hot to sleep (16 page)

G
EORGIA STARED
at the report in her hand, her official reprimand for “treating a canine in a human health facility.” Her own signature looked timid next to Dr. Story’s flourishing script.

“Destroy them,” Dr. Story had said, handing her both the original that had been bound for her file and a copy. “Officer Medlock came by Saturday morning to explain the situation, and I realize I acted in haste.”

She pursed her mouth. Ken’s timing surprised her—before their closet encounter, and before she found out about his little “impersonation.” Walking to the kitchen trash can, she tore the papers into several pieces before pitching them. She really didn’t want to dwell on it too much, though, else she might start thinking Ken Medlock was a good guy after all.

The phone rang, startling her. She was tempted to let it roll over, but decided she wasn’t going to allow the possibility of the caller being Ken to influence her phone habits. The sooner her life got back to normal, the boring off she’d be. She frowned. The
better
off she’d be.
Better.

Ignoring her Freudian slip, she picked up the handset. “Hello?”

She held her breath, and for a split second, God help her, she wanted it to be him.

“Hello, dear, it’s Mother.”

Shaking her head, she smiled at Arletta Adams’s uncanny sense of timing. And absolutely no respect for the time difference from Denver to Birmingham. Not that it mattered, since Georgia couldn’t sleep. “Hi, Mom.” She dropped onto the couch, no doubt bruising her backside. She wondered vaguely where Ken had gotten his big comfy couches.

“I called to see if you and Bob had fun at the wedding.”

She sighed. “Actually, Mom, Bob didn’t make it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter, really. We broke up.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. What happened?”

“I realized…that I didn’t care for him as much as I thought.” She reached for the envelope of photos she’d had developed, and pulled out one she’d taken at the park. Crash was the main focus, his head resting on the side of the wagon, but the lens had captured Ken in the top corner, leaning forward, his cheeks pushed up in a grand smile, his hair slightly ruffled in the wind. The darn viewfinder on the camera was obviously skewed.

“Well, as pretty as you are, you’re bound to meet a wonderful man soon. Did you check out the groomsmen?”

She laughed. “No.”

Her mother sighed, a musical little sound to the tune of “you missed another chance.” “Weddings are a good place to meet eligible men, Georgia.”

That smile. She loved that smile. Georgia rubbed her forefinger over his face. Such a nice face. “Now
that you mention it, Mom, I did meet someone at the wedding.”

By the silence, she knew she had her mother’s attention. “Who?”

“His name is Ken,” she said before she could stop the words. “Ken Medlock. It’s funny, because he reminds me a little of Daddy.” Georgia remained stock still, wondering what her mother’s reaction would be.

“That’s wonderful, dear.”

“Is it, Mom? Is it really?”

Her mother sighed, an earnest one, this time, and Georgia sensed a change in her. “Georgia, your father wasn’t perfect, but I loved him. Do I wish things had been different? Of course I do. I wish
I
had been different.”

She didn’t want to hear her mother accepting blame for her father’s shenanigans. “Mom—”

“I hated sex, Georgia.”

She swallowed her words, and her eyes bugged. “Oh.”

“It was inevitable that your father stray. The few times he did, I didn’t like it, but I didn’t blame him. And he never stopped loving me.”

She clasped a hand to her forehead, stunned at her mother’s revelation. “All these years, I thought that he was hurting you.”

“Quite the opposite, dear. Your father and I loved each other deeply. He always felt so guilty about his affairs that he brought me gifts. I never doubted his commitment to our family.”

In thirty seconds, her entire outlook on sex and re
lationships had been turned on end. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then tell me about this Ken Medlock, dear.”

Georgia’s mind raced with images of Ken, so many of them jammed into only a few days, and all of them…profound.

“Georgia, what does the man do?”

She pressed the picture of Ken to her heart, and closed her eyes. “He makes me happy, Mom. Can I call you back?”

“Of course, dear.”

She hung up and brought her fist to her mouth. Her father had indulged in extra-marital affairs because her mother hated sex. Not because one woman wasn’t enough for him. Not because he enjoyed seeing how much he could get away with. Not because he didn’t love his family. Her mother had violated her marriage vows first, by not honoring the physical needs of her husband. Georgia had sorely misjudged her father. She sent up a prayer of apology and a smile to the man she’d always adored, but whose situation she had never fully appreciated.

A warm, fuzzy feeling flooded over her, along with a revelation: Perhaps her father had orchestrated the chance meeting with Ken. The sequence of events seemed almost too fantastic for mere mortal coincidence. She smiled. He was still looking out for her. Fannie had Mother, and she had Dad.

So she hadn’t inherited dark, lusty, philandering tendencies. Her sex drive had been kicked into overdrive by a man whom she’d been destined to meet. A man who stirred her soul before she even knew him.
A man to whom she was drawn both physically and metaphysically.

Georgia counted to ten to calm her pounding heart. She loved Ken. It was impossible, but true. They’d connected so quickly and so intensely that she’d been frightened. Since it seemed too good to be true, she’d been poised for the other shoe to drop. And it had, when she’d found out it was him she’d been talking to on the phone, him she’d been sharing her thoughts and fantasies with. But on some subconscious level, hadn’t she wished it were Ken all along?

She was being handed a gift on one of those platters she wanted. She would not turn from love and run.

She looked at the phone and laughed aloud when she realized his number was still programmed in. She pushed the button, then his phone rang once, twice as her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Was he home? It was awfully late. Was he asleep? Would he be glad to hear from her?

“Hello,” he said, and his voice filled her chest with warmth.

“Ken, it’s Georgia.”

“Hi,” he said, sounding glad, but tentative. “It’s great to hear your voice. I didn’t think—”

“I love you, too.”

Strangling sounds came across the line.

“Are you choking?” she asked. “Because I know the Heimlich maneuver.”

He laughed. “So you say.”

“I was wondering if you know where I live.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

She smiled wryly. Of course he did. “Well, in that
case, I was wondering if you would like to come over.”

She heard a loud popping noise, as if the phone had been dropped. “Ken?”

From the rhythmic knocking sound, she realized the handset was dangling and swinging back and forth against something. She laughed into the phone as she heard his door slam.

Georgia hugged herself, hoping that Ken had the cruiser and would turn on the blue lights. She hated to wait.

“T
HE NEXT TIME
we get married,” Ken whispered against the back of her neck, “Pick a wedding gown that has fewer buttons.”

“All the better to torture you, my dear,” she murmured with a smile, rolling her shoulders in response to the delicious thrill of his tongue. “Ken, I was thinking.”

“Hmm?”

She turned in his arms and tugged at the lapels of his black tuxedo jacket. “Since we have the rest of our lives to make love while I’m
not
wearing my wedding gown, why don’t we—”

He grabbed her around the waist, grinning. “I like the way you think, Mrs. Medlock.”

He carried her to the bed in the luxurious honeymoon suite they’d reserved and set her on the edge. She started to slip off her shoes, but he stopped her, pushing her gently back on the bed. He then removed the satin heels with much ado, and kissed his way up to the top of her white thigh-high stockings.

Just knowing the pleasures that lay ahead had her writhing against the covers. “Blue lights, Ken,” she whispered, their private shorthand when one of them could barely wait for the other to love them.

His laugh was throaty as he unfastened his waistband. “I love it when you talk dirty, ma’am.”

“Oh, but isn’t this better than phone sex?” She moaned as he entered her, swift and hard.

“Is it ever,” he breathed against her neck. “I love you, Georgia.”

“I love you, too,” she panted, meeting his long, filling strokes. Her climax was close, and he knew it.

His face glistened with perspiration as he talked to her, murmuring sizzling, erotic words. Her thighs burned with the need for her release. He drew her knees up and levered himself over her, driving deep, bringing her to the brink, then over, in a rhythmic flood of ecstasy. She cried out his name over and over. His orgasm intensified hers as he expanded and pulsed inside her.

Georgia moaned and smiled to herself as he eased his head down to her shoulder. At this rate, they’d be pregnant by tomorrow. “Ken?”

“Hmm?”

She laughed, fanning herself. “The next time we get married, can it not be in the middle of a heat wave?”

He lifted himself on his elbows, his eyes sensuously glazed. “But since we met in a heat wave, I thought it was only appropriate. Besides,” he said, nipping at her neck in preparation for round two, “a heat wave is the best time for lovers.”

“Why?”

Ken growled against her neck. “Because it’s too hot to sleep.”