One Night Standards by Cathy Yardley Page B

winced again. “Not that I’m implying…Oh, hell.”
    â€œI’m not reading into that,” he said, even though she could tell from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t scared off by her innocuous comment. He knew what she meant, she thought, relieved. Sort of. “My point is, we can talk tonight without touching on any taboo subjects.”
    She felt a mischievous grin cover her face. “Is sex a taboo subject?”
    There was a pause, and she felt the grin replaced by a blush. What was wrong with her? She’d never acted like this with any of her boyfriends, for pity’s sakes! Much less a complete stranger!
    Not that much of a stranger, she reminded herself…and her pulse raced.
    â€œNope. Sorry,” he said, and she felt herself take in a breath, even though she hadn’t realized that she’d been frozen. “All the blood left my brain for a second. I had to lie down.”
    She let out an explosive burst of nervous laughter, a stress relief. “I’m already in bed,” she said.
    â€œReally.” His voice was rich with speculation. “Well, that’s another coincidence. So am I.”
    â€œSo, here we both are. In bed,” she said, wondering even as she said it where she was going with it. This was ridiculous, she knew it.
    Yet she couldn’t bring herself to hang up. To tell him to hang up.
    â€œThinking of each other,” he said.
    â€œThree thousand miles apart,” she added.
    â€œHmm. Well, that’s a good thing, right?” His voice was soothing, comfortable. “That shows it’s not just physical.”
    â€œAlthough, we are both in bed. And probably both thinking about sex with each other.”
    Did she just say that?
    He snorted. “That only shows we’re not dead, honey girl.”
    â€œI know this is dumb, but I do miss you,” she admitted, closing her eyes. “But I don’t know how that’s possible. I don’t even know you. How could I miss you?”
    â€œYou know me better than you think,” he said. “But I’ve got an idea. If we’re going to miss each other, we might as well get to know each other better.”
    â€œWhat’d you have in mind?”
    â€œTwenty questions,” he said, and she laughed in delight. “First off—what are you most scared of in the world?”
    She thought about it, winced. “Snakes. You?”
    â€œHave to say, I’m not too fond of heights. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
    â€œBen & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra,” she said promptly. “Man, I could go for a pint of that right about now.”
    â€œMe, I’m a huge chocolate fan,” he said, and unbidden, she got the mental picture of herself, painted with chocolate…and him licking it off. “Double dark chocolate, with hot fudge.”
    She shook her head. “My turn. Desert island question—name three famous people you want to be stranded with, and why?”
    She could hear a rustling over the cell-phone line and imagined him rolling over in his bed as he answered her questions. She kicked off her own covers, even though it was fall, and her house still held a slight chill, despite being in Southern California.
    They ran the gamut for the next hour—books and concerts, college, childhoods. She finally yawned, glancing at the clock. “Oh, man, it’s eleven-thirty. You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow,” she said, feeling the creeping edges of guilt hit her.
    â€œDon’t worry. It was worth it,” he said with a slight yawn. “I like talking to you, Ms. Sophie Jones.”
    She smiled, cradling the phone to her ear. “I like talking to you, too. We don’t want to do this again, of course, but it was nice.”
    â€œOne last question?”
    â€œI suppose…but then you’ve got to get some sleep, mister.” She made her voice mock-stern, then