Too Hot to Sleep. Stephanie Bond

Too Hot to Sleep - Stephanie Bond


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      “Can you picture me lying next to you?” she asked

      Could he? “Uh-huh.” This woman was killing him. If only he knew who she was.

      “Touch me,” she murmured. “Yes, there.”

      The woman was practically panting. Ken imagined himself covering her waiting body. Their moans would mingle at the union. “When you’re ready,” he whispered, “take me with you.”

      “Yes,” she gasped. “Together…now.”

      Ken’s eyes closed as he joined her in a powerful release. After a few moments he managed to say, “That was…great.” He felt utterly, wonderfully drained.

      “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed with a silky laugh, then cleared her throat. “I…guess I’d better let you get back to sleep.” She’d retreated into shyness. “Good night, Rob.”

      Ken heard the faint click, then the dial tone. He floundered to sit up and managed to knock the phone off the nightstand.

      He’d seen, done and heard a lot of things during his years as a cop.

      But this was the first time he’d stolen physical pleasure meant for another man.

      Dear Reader,

      We all dream of having more romance and excitement in our lives, and good girl Georgia Adams is no different. Under the pressure of a Birmingham heat wave, she becomes so frustrated with her lackluster love life—and her uninspired boyfriend—that she takes a gamble. She decides to call him for a little phone flirtation…and more. Her bold experiment is wildly successful—only Georgia doesn’t realize she dialed the wrong number!

      Meet the wrong number, Officer Ken Medlock. When this rugged cop is accidentally introduced to Georgia in person, he falls hard for her. But how long can he keep the secret that he’s the one with whom she’s been sharing her phone fantasies?

      I hope you enjoy this scorching-hot romp! Please watch for my next Temptation novel, available in November 2000, followed by a sizzling BLAZE anthology I’ll share with two of your favorite Harlequin authors. Search for my name at the Harlequin Web site (www.eHarlequin.com) for a complete list of my back titles.

      And don’t forget to share the wonderful world of romance with a friend—you’ll change her life!

      Much love and laughter,

      Stephanie Bond

      Too Hot to Sleep

      Stephanie Bond

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      This book is dedicated to Chris,

       my telecommunications story consultant

       and permanent love-scene research partner.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Epilogue

      1

      GEORGIA ADAMS GNAWED on her thumbnail as she read aloud the instructions for her new deluxe telephone answering system in hopes the words would make more sense the third time through. “When you select the dial pad mode, you are toggling the live dial pad option. When live dial pad is on, the hands-free option is activated if the auto answer feature was previously selected. See page 38-B, diagram H.” Georgia pursed her mouth, then mumbled a curse word that was not in the manual, although she planned to call the company and suggest they include a handy reference page for expletives as soon as she got the bleeping phone working.

      After hitting the “clear programming” button, she unplugged all three cords and started over at the beginning of the dog-eared book. Ninety minutes and six fingernails later, she achieved a dial tone and shrieked with success. Doing a victory dance on her sisal area rug, she spiked the instruction manual and gloated when it landed near her VCR that, after three years, still flashed “12:00.” Thank goodness her VCR and television had been spared during the electrical storm that had zapped her phone. Positive that any minute she’d mysteriously lose the ability to dial out, she dropped onto her hard couch and dialed her friend Toni’s number.

      “House of bondage,” Toni answered.

      “You are terrible,” Georgia said, laughing. “What if this had been Dr. Halbert calling you in to work?”

      “I’m not going even if he does call. I wouldn’t miss this bachelorette party for anything.”

      Georgia cleared her throat. “About the party—”

      “Oh, no you don’t, Georgia Arletta Adams! You’re not backing out on me.”

      “How did you find out my middle name?”

      “The question is, how many people in the hospital ER will I tell if you don’t go with me tonight to Bad Boys? Besides, Stacey will be crushed if you don’t show.”

      “Stacey will be smashed and won’t care.”

      “Oh, come on, Georgia, have some fun. Afraid Rob the Blob won’t want you ogling naked, sweaty, muscle-bound men?”

      Georgia shifted on the firm cushion in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position, then reached to straighten a picture on her side table, one of her photographic creations. “No. Rob’s working late and said he didn’t mind if I went.”

      “Good grief, woman, you mean you really asked him?”

      Actually, she’d secretly hoped he’d be the slightest bit jealous, especially since she’d yet to see him naked after ten months of dating. Instead, he’d sounded surprised, but added that he wasn’t the jealous type. He trusted her, for heaven’s sake—how patronizing. “Asking him was the considerate thing to do.”

      “It was the pathetic thing to do. The man doesn’t own your orgasms.”

      You’re telling me.

      “Besides, what the heck else are you going to do tonight?”

      Sleep sounded good, but Georgia recognized the early signs of insomnia by now and knew she’d be wide-eyed most of the night. She floundered for a chore that sounded remotely engrossing. “Program numbers into my new phone.”

      Toni scoffed. “Which will take all of ten minutes.”

      “Not for the gadgetronically challenged like myself.”

      “Pshaw. I’ll expect you at my place in one hour. Show some skin and bring plenty of one-dollar bills.”

      Georgia mumbled goodbye, then frowned at the handset, searching for a disconnect button. These newfangled portable models would make slamming down the phone obsolete. Not that she was


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