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“Hi, it’s Trent Sansoucy of Sansoucy Security.” His rich voice stirred the hair at the base of her neck.

“Is there something wrong? With the security for tomorrow’s party, I mean?” Because she was in bed for the night, but she could get dressed in a hurry. Nurses were like cops. They rose to the occasion.

“Everything’s fine. My job is not the only reason I call a beautiful woman.”

“But … we’ve never met face-to-face. You don’t know what I look like.”

“I’m in security. I know your deepest secrets.” He sounded droll and self-deprecating. “Besides, I can imagine what you look like, can’t I?”

Since she’d been imagining what he looked like every time they’d talked, she had to agree. 

“Do you know the fantasies I’ve had about nurses?” he asked.

“I can imagine, and they’re not true,” she said with finality.

“No. Please.” His voice deepened. “Don’t crush my dreams.”

She rubbed her hands over her bare arms. She had to remember, no matter how great this guy’s voice was and how well he flirted, he was probably old and bald and overweight and wore paisley-print socks. And married. He was probably married.

“I suppose the best part of taking care of security at parties is the food. I mean, you do eat, don’t you?” Subtle. That was subtle, Hannah.

His voice turned very serious. “No. Part of this security job is making sure the bad guys don’t get in, and the other part is being able to chase them down if they show up. Fitness is important to me.”

And there she had it. Trent was buff.

But probably still old, married and bald. Although not too old, or how would he chase down those bad guys?

As if she’d asked the question, he said, “I’m thirty-three. I figure I’ve got another fifteen years of field work.” His voice turned humorous. “Of course, if I get married, my wife might have something to say about my hours.”

“You’re not married?” She thought she sounded light and airy.

In contrast, he sounded very serious. “No, Hannah. I’m not married.”

She pumped her fist in the air.

“Nor am I bald.”

She jumped so hard she dropped the phone. She scrabbled around in the covers, retrieved it, and put it to her ear. “B…bald?”

“Isn’t that what women always worry about? Whether a guy is bald?”