Page 38 of Too Hot to Sleep
"Happy to do it. And I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. I guess this means you'll be at the wedding tomorrow."
He froze. Would Rob be back in time to attend the wedding? "I'm... planning to. If I don't get caught up... at the office."
"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed.
Did Rob disappoint her often?
"Remind me again where the church is," he said in his best guys-will-be-guys voice.
"St. Michael's, silly. Remember, you pulled some strings and got them a deal on printing their invitations?"
"Of course." Ken winced. "Except I don't recall the time."
She sighed. "Three-thirty."
"Right," he said. "Three thirty." Far away, a siren screamed, barely audible over the whir of the fan, but his ears were attuned to the noise of emergency.
Crash scratched against the floor, obviously trying to stand. He barked, several times, ending in a whine—he'd heard the siren, too. Like an idiot, Ken waved his arms to quiet the dog, then bounded into the bathroom and closed the door.
"What was all that noise?" she asked.
"The television," he said, sitting on the edge of the tub. "Some cop show."
"Oh," she said flatly.
"How's work?" he asked, partly to change the subject, and partly because he wanted to know.
"Dr. Story is watching me, waiting for me to make another mistake. He called me in this morning to sign a report he wrote up about that incident with the police officer I told you about."
Ken swallowed guiltily. "Oh?"
"That little stunt he pulled will go on my permanent file."
He was torn between commiserating with her and taking up for himself. "Well, I guess knowing you did the right thing will have to be its own reward."
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" She laughed, and he found himself irritated that she seemed so damnably cheerful around her boyfriend all the time. She yawned, then her laugh tinkled over the line again. "I'm sorry—I'm suddenly so sleepy."
Ken frowned. He wished he could say the same, but he had enough on his mind to keep a dozen men tossing and turning.He didn't want to let her go, but he couldn't very well keep her on the line. "I guess I'd better say good night, then."
"That's funny."
He picked up on an odd note in her voice. "What?"
"You sound so... different."
He adjusted the handkerchief and moved farther away from the mouthpiece. "It's just my cold."
"No," she said, sounding troubled. "I don't mean your voice. I mean... never mind."
"Georgia," he said, overcome with frustration. "I love... talking to you."
She was silent for so long Ken was afraid she had fallen asleep. At last she murmured, "Good night, Rob," and hung up.
* * *
GEORGIA HADN'Tfelt so thoroughly miserable in recent memory. Her body still pulsed from a release she'd shared with Rob... while she fantasized about another man. And the mind could play devious tricks on a person—she'd even begun to imagine Ken Medlock's voice in Rob's scratchy one.
Was this roiling sensation in her stomach what her father felt when he came home to kiss her mother's neck after a bout of fooling around? Could she even face Rob tomorrow if he showed up for the wedding?
