Too Hot to Sleep - Stephanie Bond

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get all Republican at the light of day.”

      Georgia’s smile fizzled. “What do you mean?”

      Toni crinkled her nose and pulled an innocent face. “Nothing.”

      “Oh, no, what do you mean?”

      A sigh escaped her friend. “The whole buyer’s remorse thing. I just wondered if it was the same with phone sex as it is with real sex. You lose one out of three guys to morning-after malady, you know.”

      Doubts crowded her previous good cheer. “You mean you think he enjoyed it last night, but he doesn’t respect me this morning?”

      Toni tossed her half-empty cup into the trash can and wiped her hands together in a “that’s that” motion. “Forget I said anything.”

      She frowned. “I’ll try.”

      “When do you get off?” Then she winked and poked Georgia in the ribs. “Again?”

      “Oh, you’re a riot. I clock out at three.”

      “Don’t worry, he’ll call. Ta ta.”

      Georgia pushed aside her nagging concern and threw herself into the chaos of the afternoon. But every E.R. triage nurse typically experienced at least one day a week during which she questioned her decision to become a nurse in the first place, and today turned out to be hers. Her adolescent dreams of fixing people’s bodies—and, thus, their souls—seemed ludicrous in the wake of stomach flus, food poisonings, puncture wounds and other less palatable ailments. No dramatic lifesaving procedures today. She blamed the heat for the elevated tempers. Every patient tested her patience, bickering about the wait, second-guessing the treatments she offered. As her shift progressed, Georgia’s anxiety level increased. And as her anxiety level increased, her confidence waned. And as her confidence waned, she felt less and less good about her recent foray into the world of the sexually assertive.

      What if Toni were right and Rob had decided her forwardness was uncouth? How would she be able to face him? She’d whipped up a little fudge sauce for their plain vanilla relationship, but had it been too rich for his blood? Since his consulting assignments required that he travel, and due to the nature of her job, they rarely spoke during the day. But after she clocked out, she’d make an exception and call him to gauge his reaction.

      “What kind of a nurse are you?” a big, unpleasant-smelling man demanded when she refused to give him a physical for his medical insurance.

      Georgia put her hands on her hips. “Sir, this is an emergency room, not your family doctor’s office.”

      “I don’t have a family doctor. That’s why I came here. I figured it would be faster.”

      “Get out,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the door. “You’re taking up room for people who have legitimate emergencies.”

      Her statement really wasn’t true, at least not today, she noted with an irritated grunt as the man stalked out. Almost every person who came through the door had made a mockery of E.R. medicine, a mockery of her childhood aspirations. She woke up every morning, eager to aid those in need, eager to make a real difference in someone’s life. But even Nurse Goody-Two-Shoes had her limits. God help the next person who came in to waste her time and the hospital’s resources, because she certainly wouldn’t.

      “WHISTLING? Man, you must’ve gotten lucky last night.”

      Unwrapping a hamburger on his knee, since every square inch of his desk was occupied, Ken cut his gaze toward his partner. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Klone. I slept well, that’s all. Damn near forgot what it was like.”

      The older man grinned and proceeded to talk with his mouth full of club sandwich. “What, no hot number to keep you up all night?”

      A wrong hot number. “Man, you ask too many questions.”

      “Job hazard,” Klone said, undaunted. “You’ve been complaining about your insomnia for weeks, but I think you’ve just been up late womanizing and partying.”

      “Yeah, my life isn’t half as interesting as you lead people to believe.”

      “Well, then maybe you’ve been moonlighting.”

      “Klone, I haven’t been moonlighting.” Unless he could get paid for working crossword puzzles in the wee hours of the morning.

      “Because if you need some extra cash to fund your lifestyle, every business in town is clamoring for cops to direct traffic on their off-hours. If you ask me, the city needs to put up a few more stoplights. Where are you working?”

      “Klone, I have not been moonlighting.”

      “Well, if you ask me, it’s high time you find a good woman to settle down with.”

      “I didn’t ask you.”

      “That’s why you’re not sleeping, because you’re yearning for a soul mate.”

      Ken grimaced and looked around at their colleagues moving about. “Jesus, keep your voice down. Have you been reading Cosmo or something?” He grunted. “I’ve told you before, marriage isn’t for me.” He wanted his mind squarely on his job. His first partner out of the academy had been a good-natured fellow, top of his class, with a successful career ahead of him until he met his “soul mate,” a woman who messed with his mind so badly, he’d committed grievous errors on the job. The last time Ken had seen him, the guy was unemployed, divorced, and a tad on the bitter side.

      Ken’s own experiences were somewhat less dramatic, but he’d tired of vapid women who seemed determined to worm their way into his life regardless of his feelings on the matter. Although he was larger than the average man, he was brighter than most women gave him credit for. Relationships in general were a giant hassle. Last night was the first time he’d had sex with a woman without worrying about whether potpourri would suddenly appear in his bathroom.

      Klone took another bite. “All I’m saying is that with a stressful job like this, you need a warm body to go home to every night. Someone to remind you that everyone in this world ain’t a criminal. Eighteen years now and Louise and me still do the deed every Friday night during The Tonight Show. Well, except for the two times she was in the hospital after the kids were born.”

      Ken was forced to listen while he chewed the overdone burger, then he swallowed. “I can’t tell you how much I didn’t want to hear that. And don’t talk with your mouth full, for Crissake.”

      Klone made a perfunctory swipe at his mouth with a wadded-up paper napkin. “I’m just concerned about what you’re doing with your life. You don’t have to get all aggravated.”

      Immediately contrite, Ken ground his teeth, then said, “Klone, I like being single.”

      His partner shook his head and expelled a grave sigh. “Son, someday you’re gonna learn the hard way that we can’t always have things the way we like them.”

      Ken banked the half-eaten burger into a trash can, trying to block out the voice of Georgia the mysterious phone seductress. I’m not wearing panties. That, he liked. “Where does the Fleming burglary case stand?”

      Klone shifted in his seat, oblivious to Ken’s strategy to change the subject. He held up a smudged piece of paper with a dollop of mayonnaise on the corner. “I got a tip to check out a pawnshop for some of the missing jewelry.”

      Ken took the piece of paper, heedful of the mayonnaise and his navy uniform shirt, then pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll look into it.”

      Klone half stood. “You want some company?”

      “No, I volunteered to pull truancy duty at the mall this afternoon, and this place is on the way.”

      His partner made a face. “Better you pulling truancy than me.”

      “My good deed for the week,” Ken agreed wryly. “Catch you later.” On the way out of the station,

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