Stephanie Bond Too Hot To Sleep Excerpt

Too Hot To Sleep
Harlequin Books

Back Cover

THE DAYS WERE HOT...

Nurse Georgia Adams couldn't sleep...and it had nothing to do with the local heat wave. She had a lukewarm boyfriend, a nonexistent love life...and she was frustrated, really frustrated. So she decided to take the edge off by calling her boyfriend for a little phone flirtation--and a lot more! Only, she didn't realize she'd dialed the wrong number.

BUT THE NIGHTS WERE SCORCHING

Police officer Ken Medlock couldn't sleep, either--his libido was in overdrive thanks to his sexy midnight caller. He was captivated by her voice...and when he met and recognized her the next day, he realized he had to have her in his bed--not at the end of his phone line. But first he had to convince Georgia that her wrong number had turned into a very right connection...

Excerpt

Georgia slipped inside her apartment door and swatted at the light switch. Still buzzing slightly from her last drink, she kicked off her shoes next to the couch and glanced at her new phone contraption, but the message light wasn’t blinking. How flattering. She removed the portable phone from the base and headed for the bedroom, not the slightest bit sleepy. In fact, her pulse kicked higher with every step.

Over the past few hours, she’d thought about her friend Toni’s advice to spice things up with Rob. Toni was probably right—Rob was waiting for her to make a move. So, during a shared cab ride home, Toni had settled upon the least threatening and most erotic option: phone sex.

Despite the fact that phone sex was a favored fantasy of hers, Georgia felt obligated to protest on behalf of the upstanding girl she was purported to be. Besides, she didn’t know how to . . . do it.

Toni had pshawed. "What’s to know? You talk, you moan, you hang up."

"But how do I ask him if he wants to?"

"Don’t ask, just do."

And if Rob were totally offended, Georgia reasoned, she could always move to the Midwest and change her name.

Moving slowly in the dark, she slipped out of her shoes. The fact that she’d never participated in phone sex before only heightened her anticipation. Could she pull it off? Her chest rose and fell more rapidly, her breasts tingled, her thighs grew moist.

She turned on a lamp, then dimmed the illumination to bathe her Verdigris iron bed and the mustard-colored comforter. After stepping out of her jeans and folding them over the padded seat of her vanity table, Georgia sat on the edge of the bed and sank her crimson-colored toes into a green hooked rug she’d made when she was fifteen—a lifetime ago. At that age she had fantasized of romance and physical bliss, never imagining one element without the other. She had thought by now she would’ve met a man who could provide a constant supply of both. Could Rob?

She sighed. Well, soon enough she would know if her fantasies would get him off, or scare him off.
Georgia glanced at the clock. One-thirty a.m., Wednesday morning—Rob would be in deep rapid-eye-movement sleep. Although if things went to plan, he’d be wide awake within a few seconds. Before she had time to reconsider, she slipped off her white cotton panties and left them lying on the rug. Her hands shook slightly as she held the phone and pushed the ‘zero,’ then the ‘one’ button to retrieve the number she'd programmed in for Rob only hours earlier.

When his phone began to ring, warmth flooded her abdomen. After the third ring, she panicked and started to hang up, but before she could locate the darned ‘talk’ button, she heard his sleep-fuzzy voice come over the line.

"Hello?"

Her heart thudded so loudly she could barely hear him. "Hi, Rob, this is Georgia."

"Hmm?"

"D-don’t talk," she said, then leaned back against a pile of pillows and lowered her voice to what she hoped was a sexy tone. "Just listen."

After six years on the police force, Officer Ken Medlock should have been used to late-night calls, but he still had trouble focusing on the voice at the other end of the line. He reached for the lamp on the nightstand, but remembered a split second after the sound of the hollow click that he’d forgotten to replace the burned out bulb.

Did the woman say she was ‘Georgia’? His mind spun as he tried to place the name—a new dispatcher? Blinking seemed to help clear the cobwebs. One-thirty. Damn, the last time he’d looked at the clock had been less than an hour ago. His intermittent insomnia seemed to have grown worse as the temperature climbed—and now this interruption.

"Rob, I know it’s late, but I’ve been thinking about . . . us . . . all evening and I was wondering . . . that is . . . " The woman with the sultry voice inhaled and Ken opened his mouth to tell her she had the wrong number.

"I’m not wearing panties."

Ken's mouth snapped shut.

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The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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