Chapter 20

THE FOLLOWING day was Sunday, so Georgia dragged herself from her disheveled bed and attended late morning Mass, fervently hoping to assuage some of her enormous guilt for her behavior at the wedding reception with Ken. And she did—to a tiny degree. But afterward, during the bus ride to the electronics shop to pick up her phone system, she still battled with inappropriate feelings for the man. The trouble was, her body could not so easily forget the way he'd made her come alive. Unbidden, images of their lovemaking would pop into her mind, sending warmth to her cheeks and thighs. And when she thought of Rob, she felt even worse.

After Ken had kicked open the supply closet door, she had run like a spooked doe in search of the office. She'd found it, two doors down, and closed herself off from everyone else, but especially from Ken. And although she'd picked up the phone to call Rob at his office where he was probably working late, she hadn't finished dialing, partly because she was still so shaken from the closet incident, and partly because Rob deserved more than a hurried call or a quick visit while another man's scent was on her body.

So she'd decided to wait until her head was clear and her outlook objective, although judging from the way she felt this morning, that could be some time.

She looked out the window, seeing little of the passing landscape. Ken was Catholic. She'd recognized at least a couple of confirmation ceremonies in the family photos in his apartment. Such a nice-looking family, too—big and smiling, their arms around each other. Just the kind of family she wanted to be a part of, wanted to add to. She wondered briefly why Ken didn't seem to want the same thing for himself. Then she swallowed hard. Perhaps he did want a big family someday, just not with the kind of woman whom he could have in a storage closet.

She closed her eyes, telling herself she deserved the self-derision. Ken Medlock hadn't forced her to do anything against her will. It wasn't his fault she'd been thinking about him, fantasizing about him, since they'd first met. It wasn't his fault that he'd been an attractive, convenient outlet for her raging hormones. It wasn't his fault she was seeking something he couldn't offer.

In fact, Ken had been up-front about the fact that he wasn't looking for a commitment. Georgia sighed. No, she couldn't fault the man's honesty.

When she alighted from the bus, she hadn't yet worked out the emotional dilemma in which she had mired herself. The only thing she knew for certain was that she had to sort things out with Rob, and soon. She'd been hurt when he hadn't shown up for the wedding, but on the other hand, he'd warned her that he might have to work late. She couldn't very well blame her ghastly mistake with Ken on Rob not showing up. The men weren't interchangeable—at least not to a woman with an ounce of self-respect.

She sighed as she pushed her way into the store. The customer service line was already backed up, so she had to wait for several long moments before she could talk to the same kid who had taken her phone system for repair the previous day.

"I remember you," he said with a smirk. "You were upset because you didn't have any messages."

"Is my phone ready?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Got it right here," he said, removing a box from a shelf behind him. "The guys and I had a real laugh over this one."

Georgia worked her mouth from side to side. "And why is that?"

"Because," the kid said, plugging her system into an outlet on the counter. "Turns out this recorder is a little quirky. In addition to pressing the 1 button, you have to adjust the volume in one direction or another to get rid of that welcome message."

"What does that mean?"

He gave her a goofy grin and indicated the flashing light. "It means you got a bunch of messages, lady." He pressed the button and a mechanical voice announced, "You... have... twelve... messages."

"Twelve?" Concern gripped her stomach. What if she'd missed an important call from the hospital, or from her family?

"Message... one... Tuesday... eight... thirty-four... p.m."

"Hey, Georgia, it's Rob. Sounds like you got your new machine. I guess you've already left for the bachelorette party. Wanted to let you know that I've been called to Columbus, Ohio for a meeting—not sure how long I'll be gone. I left a message at the hospital today with someone named Melanie, but I wasn't sure you'd get it. Hope you have a good time tonight with the girls. I'm on a late flight out tonight. I'll call you, okay?"

She frowned. Melanie hadn't given her Rob's message until Wednesday. But then again, maybe he hadn't called the hospital until after she'd left on Tuesday.

Wait a minute.

Had Rob just said he was flying out Tuesday night? That was weird. He'd been home when she called after coming home from the club.

"Message... two... Wednesday... six... forty... seven... p.m."

"Georgia, hey, it's Rob again. Just wanted to let you know it looks like I'm going to be here for a couple of days. If you need to reach me, call my messaging service at the office. Sorry I missed you." He laughed. "Hope you didn't do something crazy last night after leaving the club."

Georgia frowned. Was Rob so disturbed by her initiating phone sex that he was going to pretend it hadn't even happened? And he must've fallen ill soon after he left the message if he'd made it back to Birmingham by the time she'd called him Wednesday night.

"Message... three... Wednesday... seven... twelve... p.m."

"It's Toni. Just wondering if you've talked to Rob yet about you-know-what and what he had to say. Call me."

Message four was a telemarketer.

"Message... five... Thursday... five... nineteen... p.m."

"Hey, it's Rob. Was hoping to catch you. I see on the news that Birmingham is still under a heat wave, though, so you're probably working overtime in the E.R. I'm still not sure how long I'll be here, but I hope to be back in time to go to Stacey and Neil's wedding. I'll talk to you soon."

Georgia's heart sped up. Something was wrong. Rob didn't sound ill. In fact, he sounded as if he were still in Columbus. She swallowed. But that was impossible—she'd called him at home Wednesday night and Thursday night.

"Look, lady," the clerk said. "The line's backing up. Maybe you could finish this at home?"

"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.