Chapter 6

HIS TONGUE had turned to cotton. Ken stared at the woman he'd just met as she read the note in her hand. This gorgeous woman was the same silky-throated creature who had roused him from sleep last night? His skin tingled with revelation. He glanced up, expecting a spotlight to be shining on his guilt-ridden head.

"Thank you, Melanie," she said tersely, then proceeded through the door, seemingly lost in thought.

But Ken wasn't ready to let Nurse Georgia Adams walk out of his life. He hurried forward, mindful of the bundle in his arms. "Wait!"

She turned back but seemed less than thrilled to see him still standing there. "As I said, Officer, the vet clinic is on Sixteenth Street. You don't need an appointment."

He tilted his head, desperate to extend their conversation. "D-don't I know you from somewhere?"

She squinted. "I don't think so. I've never been in trouble with the police."

"Georgia Adams," he murmured to himself, pretending to mull her identity, when in truth, he simply liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. "Georgia Adams..."

"Maybe you've seen me in the halls of the hospital," she offered.

"Wait a minute," he said, improvising. "I know a guy named Rob who dates a woman named Georgia."

She took a half step toward him. "Rob Trainer?"

Ah, the identity of the unwittingly deprived boyfriend. "Um, yeah." He shifted the dog's weight to his left side while he extended his right hand. "Ken Medlock."

She hesitated, then placed her soft, healing hand in his. "How do you do, Officer Medlock."

"Ken is fine," he said, reluctantly releasing her hand.

"I'll tell Rob I ran into you when he returns from his business trip."

Uh-oh. "Well, he might not remember me—I've only spoken to him a couple of times... casually." He swallowed. "At the gym?"

"The gym on Arrow Street? Yes, that's where Rob works out." She stroked the dog's ear where the blanket had fallen away. "Poor boy, I hope he's okay."

He could only nod, struck dumb by the serendipity that had brought them together. He wasn't the superstitious type, but it had to be some sort of sign... didn't it?

"Well," she said, lifting her hand in a little wave, "good luck. I'm sure the clinic will fix up your friend like new."

She pivoted on the heels of her sensible white shoes, dragging off a white lab coat to reveal pink scrubs... and a fabulous figure. Her dark hair was pulled into a clasp at the nape of her neck, hanging midway to her back. Nurse Georgia Adams walked thirty feet away to a bus stop, then settled herself onto a wooden bench to wait, just as if she weren't the most beautiful woman on the streets of Birmingham.

Then Ken smiled as a snatch of their conversation returned to him. I'll tell Rob I ran into you when he returns from his business trip.

The most beautiful woman on the streets of Birmingham was alone for a few days.

The dog whimpered, yanking his good sense back from the gates of Fantasyland.

"Sorry, boy. Let's get you fixed up." Ken hurried toward his squad car.

* * *

GEORGIA SHIFTED on the hard bench, her cheeks burning with shame. Since Rob had opted to leave her a message at the hospital instead of talking to her in person, he must be upset over their little "session." Toni was right; she'd spooked him by being so forward. She read the note again, wishing the hastily scribbled message had divulged where he was going, or even how long he'd be gone.

Called out of town unexpectedly. Rob.

The man's communication was nothing if not... economical. But Stacey's wedding was only three days away, and she'd been looking forward to attending it with Rob in the hope that witnessing someone else's lifetime commitment would shed some light on their own aimless path.

She turned her head and watched Officer Ken Medlock's broad back receding. He still held the injured dog in his arms, and when a corner of the blanket fell, he tucked it back in place. Georgia smiled, thinking how few men would have taken the time to aid a wounded animal, especially a big, strapping man. She'd been surprised to hear that he knew Rob. Officer Ken seemed more... earthy... than Rob's yuppie accountant friends. Of course, he did say they only knew each other from the gym. She frowned just as he rounded the corner and disappeared from view. On the other hand, they must be more than mere acquaintances if Rob had mentioned her name.

Georgia bit into her lower lip, realizing she'd never thought about the kinds of things Rob might say about her to his friends. Would he tell them about the phone sex? She'd told Toni, but only because Toni had encouraged her to share her fantasies with Rob in the first place. And she trusted Toni as a confidante.

But the idea of Rob's friends knowing made her uneasy. Almost as uneasy as the fact that she didn't know if Rob would tell them.

In truth, she really didn't know that much about the habits and acquaintances of the man whom she'd met at the party of a friend of a friend going on ten months ago. They'd met over soggy egg rolls and talked about a movie they'd both seen and hated. She hadn't been bowled over, but he was nice and seemed sane—a definite bonus in today's singles market.

When Rob Trainer had called a week later to invite her to a Chamber of Commerce cocktail party, she'd said yes, and they'd been seeing each other regularly since. Hectic schedules on both their parts had minimized their dating time to scant weekends and occasional day trips out of Birmingham. Yet even when they were together, Rob wasn't a chatty fellow. His parents were from Cincinnati, but now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember if he'd ever mentioned siblings.

But still waters ran deep. Rob was a handsome, pleasant man with enough ambition for three people. So what if he wasn't always thoughtful and romantic—what man was? An unbidden image of Officer Ken's anxious expression over the injured dog pulled at her heart. Was Rob an animal lover? She doubted it, considering what a neatnik he was. But in her musings, she was starting to realize how few personal details she knew about the man with whom she had initiated phone sex. For all she knew, he could be a serial killer with a low sex drive. Maybe that was why he was familiar to Officer Ken.

Then she scoffed at her own silliness. For a strait-laced guy like Rob, a mere parking citation would be tantamount to a public flogging. Rob hadn't been quite as forthcoming with his background as she'd been with hers, but one thing she did know about her boyfriend—he was by the book.

Er, excluding The Joy of Sex, that is.

A staccato honk pulled her gaze from the spot she'd last seen the attractive police officer. The bus driver glared at her through the open door. "You comin' or not, lady?"

Georgia jumped to her feet and bounded aboard. If she didn't stop daydreaming, she'd never finish her errands. But even squeezing into a crowded seat among noisy passengers couldn't distract her from the recollection of Ken Medlock's rugged frame. Were Rob's shoulders that wide? She might stop locking her doors if every Birmingham police officer evoked that kind of security.

With a rueful sigh, she acknowledged the only reason she'd responded physically to the uniformed man was that her late-night session with Rob had awakened disobedient places within her. Places that—dwelled upon for mere seconds, like now—sprang to life. Her thighs tingled, her breasts tightened, her stomach clenched. Her gaze remained fixed on the back of the seat in front of her. Her focus blurred, and external noises diminished to a static buzz.

Slices of their chance encounter jumped into her brain randomly, like a trailer to a movie. His square jawline, his broad nose, his sincere eyes. Nurse Adams, thank you for giving me peace of mind. His smile, his gratitude for her assistance. D-don't I know you from somewhere?

Had he felt it too—a connection? An electric physical attraction born of proximity and a common goal?

She admonished herself for thinking sexy thoughts about a man she just met, but something about Officer Ken Medlock seemed familiar. Or maybe his all-American robust good looks just made him seem approachable, as if he were someone she should know—like a handsome man in a magazine ad whose eyes reached out to a woman, telling her she was special and if only he could walk off the page, he would make her his.

It could happen.

"Town Center Mall!" the driver shouted, yanking her from her schoolgirl fantasies. Georgia disembarked slowly, still suffering from the surreal effects of her musings, and headed in the direction of a shop Toni had recommended to buy a dress for Stacey's wedding. Her friend had described the clothes at Latest she gravitated to solid-colored clothing. But since her opinion obviously didn't matter, she mutely acquiesced as they shooed her into a dressing room and waited outside, the toes of their pointy shoes tapping. To her surprise, they were right—the blue floral mimicked the indigo of her eyes, and the voluminous fabric fell in feminine folds that skimmed her ankles. She smiled into the mirror, turning quickly to watch the delicate hem float on the air. Suddenly, her older sister Fannie came to mind. Georgia had always tagged along to stores and sat in a corner of the dressing room to watch the magical Fannie try on dress after dress for the many dances and parties she attended. She was breathtaking and possessed an uncanny knack for picking the dress that best showed off her perfect skin and more perfect figure. Their mother would stand behind Fannie in the mirror, beaming as the saleswomen proclaimed Fannie the most beautiful girl they'd ever seen. No one could take their eyes off her, most especially their mother, from whom Fannie had inherited her flashing green eyes and glossy flaxen hair.

Meanwhile, Georgia, being her father's namesake and sporting her father's blue eyes and unremarkable brown hair, withdrew more and more into the background. Once they'd even left her at a department store by accident. Her father, whom she adored, had come to pick her up and had stopped at a pawnshop on the way home to buy a used 35mm camera. Georgia had been hooked instantly. Photography became her escape, her window on the human condition, and a link to her beloved father. He had died from cancer the summer she turned sixteen. She had just learned to drive, she recalled. To this day, she'd yet to get her driver's license.

Her mother loved her; she had simply been preoccupied with Fannie and all that Fannie was. She still was, except now the preoccupation included Fannie's wealthy husband and their two darling daughters. It was a full-time job for her mother, keeping up with the accoutrements of Fannie's charmed life in Denver. Georgia had been left to her own devices, furthering her photography and attending nursing school. One didn't have to be spectacular looking or musically inclined or a prima ballerina to take pictures, or to be a nurse.

Georgia scrutinized her silhouette and frowned. A darn good thing, too.

"How's it going in there?" one of the Toms called.

She exhaled and emerged nervously to head-nodding and hmm-hmming.

"Darling, you will—"

"—upstage the bride."

She smiled, pleased despite their exaggeration. Then, feeling somewhat like a dressmaker's dummy, she submitted to their tucking and pinning to the tune of snapped fingers and quick sniffs.

"What will your date be wearing?" the taller one asked.

"A suit, I suppose," she said. If he came, that is.

"A navy suit?" the other one asked, his voice suspicious. "He simply must wear navy to complement your dress."

She nodded mutely. Being a nice dresser, Rob probably had a navy suit in his closet. Georgia frowned. But why did the image of a navy uniform keep popping into her mind?

Both Toms scribbled on a piece of paper. "Go to the accessories department in Elm's and buy the Derrin straw hat—"

"—with a white band. Then go to footwear and buy the white espadrilles—"

"—with the ankle strap. By the time you get back—"

"—your lovely frock will be ready."

They smiled in unison and recapped their ink pens. Powerless to disagree in the wake of their frighteningly good taste, she took the piece of paper and stopped herself short of a curtsey before she re-donned her scrubs and left the store. Mall merchandising, she suddenly noticed, was all about sex. Loud, pulsing music. Lingerie and skimpy clothing in the windows. Judging from their stiff nipples, even the mannequins were turned on.

Bombarded with erotic cues, she simply couldn't stop thinking about the phone call. And she couldn't stop obsessing over Rob's reaction. Darn Toni for raising the questions in the first place. And darn that Ken Medlock for forcing his way into her impossibly crowded mind. She was suddenly glad she would most likely never see the man again.

As she was told, Georgia headed toward Elm's and, unfamiliar with the upscale store, meandered around until she found the accessories department. Feeling somewhat conspicuous, she glanced all around before trying on hats in the line the men had suggested. Which Derrin straw hat with a white band? There were so many. She tried on style after style, then conceded she hadn't enjoyed herself so much in a long time. She even loosened the clasp from her hair, toying with the idea of wearing it down for the wedding. At last she settled on a bowler style, crossing her fingers that Tom Tom wouldn't object to her choice. The espadrilles were fun and comfortable, but a lot more expensive now than when they were first popular a couple of decades ago.

Swinging both bags, she gave in to the rumbling in her stomach and stopped at the food court for a bagel and cream cheese. The mall was a great place to people-watch, a favorite pastime, even without her camera. Take that old man over there reading the paper—priceless. Or the triplets in the combination stroller, all eating ice cream. Or the policeman leaned over, lecturing a group of preteens seated around a table.

Georgia stopped chewing and squinted. Officer Medlock?

Her pulse kicked up. What was he doing here at the mall? She watched him send the kids on their way, then glanced at her watch. Ah, the kids were playing hooky. He stood with his hands on his hips and stared after the boys who chanced sullen looks over their shoulders while they shuffled toward the exit.

She wondered how the dog had fared, and decided it was perfectly legitimate for her to ask—she'd put her job on the line, after all. But while she watched, a young woman tottered up to him wearing painted-on clothing, high heels, and exhibiting her mastery of hair-toss. Georgia glanced down at her own institutional clothing and resolved to slink out unnoticed. The officer responded to the young woman's inquiry with a smile that made Georgia swallow a chunk of bagel without chewing.

It promptly lodged in her esophagus, effectively blocking her airway. Georgia clutched her throat. She was choking. She was going to die with last night's tawdry act on her conscience... Her next conversation would be with St. Peter: "Oh, and here's Miss Ring-a-Ding-Ding..."