Page 52 of Too Hot to Sleep
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TONI SATin the hard chair that matched the hard couch, her mouth gaping. "I just don't believe it."
Georgia lay with her hand over her forehead. "Believe it."
"And you have no idea who this guy is?"
"None whatsoever."
"Wow. How romantic."
Georgia frowned. "It's more like something inPenthouseForum."
"Your life is so exciting. Oh! This is just like my situation with Dr. Baxter—he doesn't know who I am, either, but there's this connection, you know?"
"Toni, I don't think it's the same thing at all."
"Well, do you want to find out who this guy is?"
"Of course I do. He could be some psycho with caller ID who knows my name and number."
"Or some gorgeous single hunk."
"Toni, you're nuts. He's probably married and has kids." Like her father.
"Why don't you call the number now?"
Georgia frowned. "Now?"
"Maybe the guy works during the day, and he'll have his machine on, or someone else will answer."
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I don't think I want to call the number again."
"I'll do it from my new cell phone," Toni offered, reaching for her purse.
"You're just looking for an excuse to use your expensive new toy," Georgia teased. "I can't believe how much you paid for that thing."
Toni opened the bottom of her flip-phone. "Mark my words—one of these days, everyone will have a portable phone."
"Okay, that's just crazy-talk."
"Give me the number."
Georgia recited the errant phone number and sat up as Toni punched it in. "It's ringing," she said excitedly, then handed the phone to Georgia.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, praying a wife or child wouldn't answer. But after the fourth ring, a voice recorder kicked on with a generic mechanical message. She hung up witha sigh. "That didn’t help. Maybe I should just chalk it up to a bad experience. After all, the guy hasn't called me back."
"But that doesn't mean he won't," Toni said. "He could be outside right now, going through your trash, looking for the hair from your brush."
"Ewwww."
Toni snapped her fingers. "I've got it! A friend of mine told me the police have those reverse phone indexes—they can look up names by the number."
"And what good does that do me?"
"All you have to do is ask that big strapping Officer Medlock to do you a favor. Besides," he wagged her eyebrows, "now that Rob is out of the picture—"
"Don't even say it," Georgia said, holding up her hand. She had enough problems on her plate without getting involved with Ken Medlock. She blinked back hot tears. How utterly stupid she'd been—anyone could have walked in on them, anyone could have seen them coming out of that room. Besides, she'd traded twenty minutes of passion for a lifetime of regret—regret because she knew if given the opportunity, she'd probably do it again.
