Chapter 21

THE BUS ride 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 the New York Times lying 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 even if 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."

"Oh. So you did get my messages?"

"Um, yes. Yes, I did."

He smiled. "I was beginning to think there was something wrong with your machine because I couldn't catch you."

Nothing wrong with my machine, just me, she thought miserably. She'd hoped for some spark, some sense of excitement at the sight of Rob, but she was merely... sad. Sad that she and Rob both maintained a physical and emotional distance that neither seemed able to pierce, and neither seemed willing to shed. And perhaps neither was to blame—they simply weren't compatible on any level of intensity. In the few days that had passed since she'd last seen him, she had changed too much, had learned things about herself that would alarm and perhaps disgust someone as passionless as Rob Trainer. Still, she owed him some sort of explanation.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. "You look worried."

The understatement of the year. "Rob, we need to talk."

"Is that Stacey and Neil's wedding?" he blurted, distracted by the Sunday paper that had fallen open on the counter where she'd tossed it. Local Cop Saves the Wedding Day. Sure enough, a photo series obviously taken from video stills showed Officer Ken Medlock holding a folding chair over the balcony, the madman being struck down—especially effective since his knife had been knocked from his hand and hung in midair—and another of Ken handcuffing the man. Georgia sighed. Was she destined to be reminded of the man at every turn?

"Yes," she said. "It was a bit of a commotion, but everyone was fine. Um, your friend Ken Medlock saved the day."

His pleasant face turned into a frown. "My friend?"

"Officer Ken Medlock. You know, the cop from the gym. I've, um, run into him a few times over the past few days."

Rob squinted at her and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Your face is all red. Does this have something to do with the cop?"

She tried to will away the flush and clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "Well—"

"Georgia."

She glanced up at his sharp tone, stunned that his expression was a cross between anger and panic.

"I don't appreciate anyone poking around in my past," he said quietly.

Her mouth opened and she shook her head. "But I wasn't—"

"I don't know anyone by the name of Ken Medlock, and I certainly don't know any city cops."

"But he said—"

"I made a mistake," Rob said, smacking his hand on the counter, causing her to jump. "And I served my time."

Georgia backed up a step, stunned by his mood change and the turn of the conversation. He had a record? "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked with as much calm as she could muster.

"Because my past is none of your business," he bit out. "It was one lousy charge of embezzlement—a few thousand dollars to pay off some debts. What is it to you?"

She felt like a fool. Rob had no intention of getting close to her, and deep down, she'd known it from the beginning. She'd perpetuated the relationship because it was safe, because it didn't require her to extend herself or be vulnerable in return. Rob was the kind of man she thought would provide the most stable home for a family, someone to... offset her urges?

"You're right," she murmured. "It's none of my business. I'm leaving."

"Georgia, wait," he said, his expression contrite. "I'm sorry to go off on you like that." He sighed. "It's just not working between us, you know?"

She nodded. "I know."

"But you're such a nice person."

"Thanks, Rob. I feel the same way about you."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone about that mess back in Ohio."

"I won't. Goodbye, Rob." She laid his door key on the counter, then walked out, nearly tripping over the box that held her phone system. All she wanted to do was go home, lie on her rock-hard couch, and have a good, long cry.

* * *

TONI SAT in 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 in Penthouse Forum."

"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 with a 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.

And again.

And again.

"You have to admit, he's a hottie," Toni pressed. "When he came charging into the back of the church wearing that uniform, I swear half the women in the church swooned. Rebecca Dooley had her eye on him at the reception, but he disappeared right after the toast."

"Really?" Georgia pressed her palms into her eyes, but snatches of his lovemaking remained so vivid in her mind, her womb clenched and her thighs tingled. God help her, even with everything else going on, she couldn't stop thinking about the man—a clue as to how dangerous he was to her mental well-being.

"He's interested, Georgia. You're crazy if you don't go out with him."

"He's a player, Toni. The man told me himself he's not interested in settling down."

"So? You don't have to marry him. Just have a little fun."

She smiled wryly to herself. Just have a little fun? Ken Medlock would be too easy to fall for, and too hard to forget. She'd already set into motion events that might haunt her for years. She'd learned her lesson about indulging her darker urges, no matter how tempting.

Toni sighed. "You should ask him for this favor. You wouldn't have to give him all the details, just make up something. He owes you one after almost getting you fired and all."

Actually, after their encounter in the closet, they were even, she conceded silently. She'd felt so ashamed for her behavior that she'd even lashed out at him for calling her "ma'am."

I'm sorry. I meant to be respectful.

Considering what she'd just allowed to transpire, his respectfulness had grated at the time.

Georgia closed her eyes and sighed. The man had only been trying to make the best of an awkward situation. And Toni was right—the quickest way to find the identity of the guy on the other end of the phone line and to have peace of mind was to go to Ken. She wouldn't have to give him all the lurid details, and she believed he'd be discreet. Besides, as far as he knew, she was still dating Rob, so he wouldn't pressure her to see him, not after their discussion in the closet.

In fact, asking for his help would give them a chance to ease the awkwardness of their last parting. And once Ken told her the name of the man who belonged to that phone number, she'd be able to put the chaos of the past week behind her.