Chapter 18

"AND A very special toast," Stacey said, lifting her glass, "to our friend and hero, Officer Ken Medlock of the Birmingham City Police Department."

The guests erupted in enthusiastic applause. From across the room, Georgia's heart thumped as he nodded his thanks to the couple, then she drank from her glass. Rob hadn't materialized, so her hope for a buffer from Ken had disintegrated. She'd made herself scarce, moving around the room in an attempt to avoid being alone with Ken. He seemed not to mind, mingling with ease, surrounded by back-patters and hand-shakers who'd witnessed the incident at the wedding. And the women. Georgia frowned into her half-empty glass. The women were so... bold in their body language.

Not that she cared. After all, she'd had her chances. Ken had made no secret of the fact that he wouldn't mind having a physical relationship. And she wanted him, too. But first Rob, now Ken—who would she be lusting after next week? Engaging in sexual games only fed a dangerous appetite. A forbidden boundary was easier to cross the second time, and the activity would have to be progressively more risqué to deliver the same thrill. Where would it end? Not in a committed marriage.

Georgia downed the rest of the champagne and went in search of a phone, thinking she might call Rob to see if they could meet somewhere to talk since she wouldn't get her broken phone back until tomorrow. She sighed. Although at the time Rob had seemed to enjoy her calls, she'd concluded that he was definitely avoiding her. She wanted to let him off the hook as soon as possible.

Literally.

"Georgia."

At the sound of Ken's voice behind her, she closed her eyes briefly, then hurried her steps, scanning the signs on the doors in front of her. When she saw the word Office on the second door to the right, she made a beeline for it, despite his rapidly approaching footsteps. His large hand closed around hers on the doorknob, sending her heart into overdrive.

"Georgia," he murmured, "I need to talk to you."

She wished she hadn't drunk that glass of champagne on an empty stomach. She stared at his hand on hers, momentarily mesmerized. "It's not necessary, Ken."

"Believe me, ma'am, it is."

Georgia slowly turned and looked up at the man who was playing havoc with her emotions, and her libido. As soon as she met his gaze, however, she knew she was in trouble. His hand tightened over hers, and his Adam's apple dipped.

I want him, every fiber in her body screamed in unison. His mouth twitched and she felt her lips part. The next instant his mouth was on hers, moving hungrily. His tongue sought hers, plunging and retreating in a frenzied dance, sending a burn to her thighs. Champagne mingled on their tongues. The friction of skin on skin released the scents of their spicy and sweet colognes. Georgia moaned and jammed her traitorous body against his.

But through the fog of desire, the sound of approaching voices reached her ears. She stiffened and pulled back, recognizing at least one of the voices as a gossipy bridesmaid—if they were seen together, everyone would know, including Rob, that Georgia had been playing Post Office with the man of the hour.

The desperation must have shown on her face, because he said, "In here," and yanked open the door at her back. They ducked inside the dark room and Ken closed the door behind them. They were enveloped in near darkness. The noisy crowd passed by slowly, joking and laughing. Someone slipped and almost fell, eliciting a remark about everyone's level of sobriety.

"Did you get a look at that gorgeous cop?" a woman asked. "Whew-we!"

"Wouldn't mind being handcuffed to that guy," another woman said, triggering a wave of giggles.

Georgia's entire body pulsed, her senses keened by Ken's kiss and proximity in the darkness. She could hear him breathing, shifting at the group's comments. At last their footsteps and voices faded away.

Relieved that disaster had been avoided, she groped for the doorknob and turned it.

Only it didn't move.

Panic blipped in her heart as she struggled with the doorknob. "It won't open," she hissed.

He made a disbelieving sound. "Let me try."

He jiggled the knob three times, each attempt more insistent than the last. Then he grunted. "The knob came off."

"Oh, great." Unwilling to accept the possibility they might be trapped, she turned to inspect their hiding place. Light filtered into the room from a high window on the back wall of the small, narrow room, silhouetting strange shapes that did not resemble an office. She felt along the wall nearest to her for a light switch, but when she found one, the click produced nothing. She flipped it back and forth. Nada. "The light doesn't work," she announced.

"Why were you coming in here in the first place?" he asked, his tone just the tiniest bit accusing.

She bristled. "I was looking for a phone, and I thought the sign on the door said Office." She didn't add that when she heard him behind her, she'd simply wanted to flee, period.

"Looks like some kind of furniture storage closet," he said, his voice angled away from her.

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out old couches, tables, and chairs lining the walls, stacked as high as safety allowed. The air was hot and stale, further proof they were in a stockroom. "There has to be a way out," she said, then took one step and promptly tripped over something.

His foot, she realized when he caught her, his hands touching intimate places. Blatant desire shot through her primed body. In the space of five seconds, the atmosphere changed to libidinous. She could barely see him, could barely make out his silhouette, but the electricity between them practically glowed. She couldn't explain the phenomenon that had materialized between them in scant days, but she was powerless to resist it. His hand sought out her jaw, his fingers brushed the back of her neck, and she knew she was lost.

"Let's find the exit later," he murmured, then kissed her thoroughly.

Like a weary soldier, Georgia almost welcomed the moment of defeat. Her limbs were limp with relief, her mind resigned to the inevitable conclusion of their passion. She threw herself into the kiss—if she was going to relinquish her pride to Ken Medlock, she would do it largely.