wonder you knew about my accident with Lieutenant Alexander—you watched it. I heard you announce it!"
He nodded, smiling. "I couldn't resist ribbing him, he's such a smug SOB. Unfortunately, he can't take a joke."
"He does seem a bit grim, although I can understand why he'd be angry with me."
"Don't take it personally. I hear he's going through a bad divorce."
Her heart dipped in empathy for the lieutenant.
"So," Julian said, brushing her hand with his. "Now that you know who I am, are you going to change your order?"
Under his pointed stare, her body strained toward him, her fantasy man from the radio. She wet her lips, gratified when he unconsciously mimicked her movement.
"Yes," she said, then flagged down the waitress. "Would you please bring us a side of Thai chili sauce for dipping?"
When she looked back to Julian, he had pushed out his cheek with his tongue and was nodding in approval.
* * *
Belinda wadded up a paper towel, stuffed it in her mouth, and dropped into her burnt orange office chair for a few seconds of blessed relief. She should have known she was in trouble when the food the waitress sat in front of her singed her nose hair. The first couple of bites of spicy basil leaves and shrimp hadn't been bad. And then the afterburn had set in.
The only way she could describe the experience was swallowing trick birthday candles that wouldn't go out. After the first couple of layers of skin had dissolved from her tongue, she had lost all sensation, including the ability to speak in full sentences. Thankfully, Julian was a practiced talker and had required little more than positive body language to keep him chatting about his unusual job. Just when she'd thought she might combust, he'd been called to cover a chemical spill on Georgia 400. He'd tossed money on the table, and they'd practically sprinted back to the Stratford building parking garage.
"Tomorrow," he'd said with a rakish smile. "Meet me in the gym, in front of the dry sauna at noon."
She'd nodded (because she couldn't speak). Watching him jog away, her chest had gotten this weird, welled-up feeling that he was dashing off to risk his life so that the rest of Atlanta could arrive home safely.
Or at least get home in time to watch the Braves play.
She sucked on the paper towel, trying to absorb some of the pepper oils lingering on her tongue. What did Julian have in mind—working out together? And eventually working in and out together? She closed her eyes and squeezed her knees tight. How amazing that their paths had actually crossed. It was fate, wasn't it?
Her phone rang. She yanked up the receiver, then too late remembered she couldn't talk. Carefully she pulled the moist paper towel out of her mouth. As soon as the air hit her raw tongue, her mouth exploded with pain. Involuntarily, she moaned into the phone.
"Hello?" a male voice asked.
"Mm-hm." She clenched her teeth until the worst of the pain passed.
"Is this Belinda Hennessey?"
She tried to concentrate on breathing only through her nose. "Mm-hm."
"This is Lieutenant Wade Alexander."
"Oh. Heh-wo." She winced.
"Did I call at a bad time?"
"Um. No. Whaz up?"
After a few seconds of silence, he said, "I was calling to let you know that I searched the cruiser, but I didn't find your address book."
"Oh. Thanz anyway."
"You're welcome. Are you all right?"
"Fine."
"Okay. Well... are you still driving on that spare?"
She smirked. "No."
"Okay. Well... good-bye then."
"Guh-bye."
She frowned at the phone when she set it down. At least he'd stopped calling her "ma'am." Then she remembered that Julian had said the man was going through a divorce, and she regretted her unkind thoughts. She wondered if he'd gotten his big heart broken, or if he was the one who'd done the damage.
"Belinda."
She jumped, then turned to see Clancy Edmunds standing at the opening to her cubicle. "Heh-wo, Cwancy."
"Is that an Elmer Fudd impersonation, or did you have lunch at the Thai
He nodded, smiling. "I couldn't resist ribbing him, he's such a smug SOB. Unfortunately, he can't take a joke."
"He does seem a bit grim, although I can understand why he'd be angry with me."
"Don't take it personally. I hear he's going through a bad divorce."
Her heart dipped in empathy for the lieutenant.
"So," Julian said, brushing her hand with his. "Now that you know who I am, are you going to change your order?"
Under his pointed stare, her body strained toward him, her fantasy man from the radio. She wet her lips, gratified when he unconsciously mimicked her movement.
"Yes," she said, then flagged down the waitress. "Would you please bring us a side of Thai chili sauce for dipping?"
When she looked back to Julian, he had pushed out his cheek with his tongue and was nodding in approval.
* * *
Belinda wadded up a paper towel, stuffed it in her mouth, and dropped into her burnt orange office chair for a few seconds of blessed relief. She should have known she was in trouble when the food the waitress sat in front of her singed her nose hair. The first couple of bites of spicy basil leaves and shrimp hadn't been bad. And then the afterburn had set in.
The only way she could describe the experience was swallowing trick birthday candles that wouldn't go out. After the first couple of layers of skin had dissolved from her tongue, she had lost all sensation, including the ability to speak in full sentences. Thankfully, Julian was a practiced talker and had required little more than positive body language to keep him chatting about his unusual job. Just when she'd thought she might combust, he'd been called to cover a chemical spill on Georgia 400. He'd tossed money on the table, and they'd practically sprinted back to the Stratford building parking garage.
"Tomorrow," he'd said with a rakish smile. "Meet me in the gym, in front of the dry sauna at noon."
She'd nodded (because she couldn't speak). Watching him jog away, her chest had gotten this weird, welled-up feeling that he was dashing off to risk his life so that the rest of Atlanta could arrive home safely.
Or at least get home in time to watch the Braves play.
She sucked on the paper towel, trying to absorb some of the pepper oils lingering on her tongue. What did Julian have in mind—working out together? And eventually working in and out together? She closed her eyes and squeezed her knees tight. How amazing that their paths had actually crossed. It was fate, wasn't it?
Her phone rang. She yanked up the receiver, then too late remembered she couldn't talk. Carefully she pulled the moist paper towel out of her mouth. As soon as the air hit her raw tongue, her mouth exploded with pain. Involuntarily, she moaned into the phone.
"Hello?" a male voice asked.
"Mm-hm." She clenched her teeth until the worst of the pain passed.
"Is this Belinda Hennessey?"
She tried to concentrate on breathing only through her nose. "Mm-hm."
"This is Lieutenant Wade Alexander."
"Oh. Heh-wo." She winced.
"Did I call at a bad time?"
"Um. No. Whaz up?"
After a few seconds of silence, he said, "I was calling to let you know that I searched the cruiser, but I didn't find your address book."
"Oh. Thanz anyway."
"You're welcome. Are you all right?"
"Fine."
"Okay. Well... are you still driving on that spare?"
She smirked. "No."
"Okay. Well... good-bye then."
"Guh-bye."
She frowned at the phone when she set it down. At least he'd stopped calling her "ma'am." Then she remembered that Julian had said the man was going through a divorce, and she regretted her unkind thoughts. She wondered if he'd gotten his big heart broken, or if he was the one who'd done the damage.
"Belinda."
She jumped, then turned to see Clancy Edmunds standing at the opening to her cubicle. "Heh-wo, Cwancy."
"Is that an Elmer Fudd impersonation, or did you have lunch at the Thai
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