Page 50 of Too Hot to Sleep
"Shut up," she said, her mind racing.
Messages six and seven were from telemarketers. Message eight was from the personnel department at the hospital telling her she could pick up a copy of her file update at her earliest convenience—Dr. Story's report on her stint as a veterinarian, no doubt.
Message nine was from her super saying he would try again to fix her thermostat on Monday.
"Message... ten... Friday... six... twenty... p.m."
"Hey, Georgia, it's Rob again. Looks like I won't be able to make it back for the wedding. Give Stacey and Neil my best. I'll call you when I get back, probably Sunday afternoon. Looking forward to seeing you."
Her collar had grown moist, and her breathing rapid. The newspapers stacked up on his stoop, his overgrown grass. If she hadn't talked to Rob herself, she'd be tempted to think he was still in Columbus when he made that call. Was he playing some kind of joke? She rubbed one throbbing temple. If he was, it wasn't funny.
"Message... eleven... Friday... ten... sixteen... p.m"
"Georgia, it's Mother. Just wanted to tell you to have a wonderful time at the wedding, dear. And do try to catch the bouquet. Toodleoo."
Georgia closed her eyes briefly, thinking she probably wouldn't tell her mother than when the bouquet was being thrown, she was making animal love in a supply closet to a man who had no intention of ever walking down the aisle.
"Message... twelve... Saturday... eight... forty... a.m."
"It's Rob again." He sounded annoyed, and she wondered where she'd been that she'd missed his call. Probably taking a shower to get ready for the wedding. "I'm starting to get worried since I haven't talked to you for so long. I hope everything's okay."
Her heart lodged firmly in her throat, like that chunk of bagel Ken Medlock had squeezed out of her.Since I haven't talked to you for so long?
"Hey, lady," the guy intoned. "Give me a break."
"How do you review numbers that are programmed in?"
He sighed and pushed a couple of buttons. "You can only see three at a time."
Her gaze flew to the first number she'd programmed, 205-555-6252. It was wrong. Rob's number was 6225. She'd been dialing the wrong...
She covered her mouth when the implication hit her.Oh... my... God.She grabbed the counter for support.
"Hey,lady, you okay?"
Georgia shook her head dumbly. She'd been having raw, sensual phone sex with a nameless, faceless stranger. She would, quite possibly, never be okay again.
Chapter 21
THE BUSride across town was torturous. Georgia kept replaying the events of the past few days in tandem with the messages left on her machine, frantically searching for some explanation other than the one that left a rock in her stomach, but coming up empty-handed. The implication was nauseating: She was dating one man, having phone sex with another, and having real sex with a third.
When had her life taken such a bizarre twist?
She closed her eyes briefly. When she'd allowed physical needs to override her good judgment. One thing was certain—she had to get to Rob's before he found the little note she'd left about having X-rated fun on the phone. After that, she'd take it one step at a time, assuming there was actually a way to extricate herself from the mess she'd created.
So, dragging the box containing her phone system, she disembarked from the bus and practically jogged the distance to Rob's home. When she saw the local Sunday paper and theNew York Timeslying rolled up on the stoop, she was torn between relief that he hadn't arrived home and dismay that her suspicions were beginning to look horrifically correct.
She set down the box, scooped up the papers, and fished the door key from her wallet with a hand that shook uncontrollably. She dropped the key altogether when a car horn sounded from the street. When she turned, her heart dove. Rob's black Lexus rolled into the driveway. The note—she had to get the note. The garage door went up and he guided the car inside. She scrambled for the key, thinking she could still beat him to the kitchen evenif he entered the house through the mud room. At last she seized the key, then shoved it home and turned it. The dead bolt gave, and she practically fell inside. When she slid into the kitchen, Rob had already spotted her note and was two steps away. She darted in front of him and yanked it out of reach, then gave him a cheerful smile.
"Welcome home."
"Thanks." He gave her a quick peck on the mouth, then his smooth face creased into a quizzical frown. "What's that?"
"What?"
"That piece of paper you just grabbed."
She looked down at her hand. "Oh. This is nothing—just a note I left when I came over the other day to, um, bring in your newspapers."
