Page 54 of Too Hot to Sleep
No, he was agreatliar—that was the problem.
"It's that little slip of a nurse who was in here the other day, ain't it?"
"No."
"The one you rounded up all the guys for the blood bank to impress."
"No."
"Well, at least she's an upstanding woman. Might make an honest man out of you."
Ken smacked his hand on the desk. "Dammit, Klone, I'm telling you it's not—" He stopped when he spotted none other than Georgia Adams being led toward his office. A goofy grin hung itself on his face. He stood so abruptly his chair went flying backward. And his stupid heart rolled over like a trained pet.
"Well, lookie there," Klone drawled. "If it ain't the woman who doesn't have you tied up in knots."
Ken soaked her in. Her heavy-lidded smoky gaze, the way she moved, the whole of her made his breath catch in his throat. In that moment, he had a revelation. From now on, he would refer to his life in two phases: before he met Georgia Adams, and after.
"Wonder what she wants," Klone muttered.
He didn't care, as long as she was here. One thing he knew for certain—if Rob Trainer wanted Georgia, the man was in for the fight of his life. Unable to stop himself, he met her halfway, grinning like a dolt. "Hi."
"Hi." She smiled and blushed, a reaction that bolstered his mood higher. His imagination took flight. She'd broken off with Rob. She was hoping they could get together for a movie or something. She wasn't busy for the next forty years or so. She wouldn't mind having a gimpy dog underfoot.
"I brought the pictures of Crash," she said, handing him an envelope.
"Oh. Thanks."
"And I need a favor," she said, her blue eyes wide and earnest.
He focused on not touching her, not here in front of everyone. "Anything," he said, and meant it. "Come on back to my desk." He pointed the way, then walked behind her a half step, throwing Klone a warning glare as Georgia sat down. The man pursed his mouth and turned back to his own paperwork.
The pink blouse she wore brought out the blue in her eyes. Ken tried not to be distracted by her slim thighs as she crossed her legs. The simple, close-fitting khaki shorts hugged her figure, bringing back gut-clutching memories of her legs around his waist. He cleared his throat. "What can I help you with, Georgia?"
She removed a slip of paper from her purse and extended it to him. "Can you tell me the name of the person who has this local number?"
His heart stopped at the sight of his own phone number written in dainty little numbers, so innocent. Unable to take the slip of paper, he simply stared at it, willing it to go away. His brain clogged, and his vision blurred. What had seemed like the right decision a few moments ago now faded in the wake of losing the chance to win her over.
"Why do you need it?" he heard himself ask in an amazingly calm voice.
Her coloring rose and she squirmed. "Well, I'd rather not go into too much detail. The number has been called from my phone, and I'm just curious as to who is on the other end, that's all." But her smile didn't reach her eyes.
Ken didn't know what to do, so he stalled. "Someone has been using your phone without your permission?"
"N-no."
"So you made the calls."
"Yes, but I dialed the wrong number—this number."
Picking up on her discomfort, he decided that if he pushed her, she might change her mind about wanting the name. "If it was the wrong number, why do you need the name?"
"Because," she said softly, "I, um, divulged information to this man which was rather personal."
"Information that was meant for someone else?" he pressed.
"Um, yes."
"What purpose would be served by finding this person?"
