“So, think you can knock me up?” Sage Wilde’s naked body squirmed on the table, the paper under her crinkling, her feet resting in stirrups as she stared at the ugly white tile on the ceiling. “My pipes clean and working? My oven big enough to cook a one?”
“Sage,” Dr. Whitmore sighed. “You’re—” The ringing of a blaring fire alarm cut the doctor off before an automated message echoed through the building.
“Please stay calm and exit the building immediately. Leave all your belongings behind and find the nearest emergency exit. Please exit the building immediately,” the computer-programmed voice repeated.
Sage cursed and jumped off the examination table, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. “My clothes. I need—”
“I’m sorry, Sage but we need to evacuate now. Your gown will have to do.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside.” She closed the gown across her breasts and turned toward her pile of clothes on the windowsill.
The doctor had pulled her halfway out the door before Sage managed to reach down and pick up her red high-heeled boots. She jogged to keep up with the flow of doctors and nurses until they reached the exit. Once outside, Sage tugged her flimsy gown tight in front of her, hoping her butt wasn’t hanging out as she bent over and shoved her feet into her boots.
The crowd was small so early in the morning. Sage always opted for the first appointment of the day; it was less likely the doctor was running behind and Sage’s impeccably planned day wouldn’t get altered. She lived by her appointment book, which was linked to her iPhone, iPad, laptop, and email as well. She valued punctuality and had no patience for those who put her behind schedule.
This stupid fire alarm was going to set her back. Always having something to do, or an electronic device to scroll through, research on, and work on, her hands felt naked and idle. Sage wasn’t one of the most sought-after event planners in southern Maine because she sat around and waited for action to happen. No, she took the initiative, fought for what she wanted, for what her clients wanted, and had a successful business because of it.
Tapping her bright red manicured finger on her teeth, she looked around the crowd. Being the only one wearing a stupid johnny and red boots made her stick out like a hooker in church. Before long, two fire trucks and a few unmarked cars with flashing lights on their roof pulled in front of the medical building.
Sage tried to stay warm by hopping up and down but her boobs bounced freely and her butt felt the sharp bite of the cold air every time the johnny flipped up. Standing still went against every natural instinct. Hugging the flimsy, cheap cotton around her body, she willed the firefighters to hurry the hell up. Or at least allow her to run in and fetch her bag.
And her clothes.
Eyes fixed on the front door, waiting for the “all clear” signal, Sage didn’t notice the man behind her until she felt the warm, heavy weight of something around her shoulders. “What the hell?” She twirled around, ready to spit nails, when a very sexy firefighter with dimples as deep as the ocean winked at her. He was tall—six feet, at least—and built like he was very familiar with tossing around a fire hose.
“You looked cold, ma’am.” He pulled his firefighter coat around her body, strapping her in, her arms trapped inside. It weighed a ton and warmed her instantly. Or maybe it was his amused eyes twinkling at her. “Of course, the coat doesn’t quite go with those boots of yours, but I’m thinking at this point you probably don’t mind.”
“Um, no. I’m a fashion faux pas anyway. The doctor wouldn’t let me change before coming out.” Intrigued by the casual flirting of the sexy hunk, she studied the laugh lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled and stared into his eyes that changed from brown to green to a heated hazel.
“That’s a good doctor then. The important thing is that you’re safe.”
Safe, yes. But nearly naked and late didn’t make up for it. Yanking herself from the surprising lust-filled trance Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick put her under, she squared her shoulders and used her business voice. The one that said I’m asking politely but you better get your ass in gear and figure out the problem before I go batshit crazy on you. “I really need to get my things. I’m already late for an appointment. Can you see what the problem is and let me know when I can get out of here?”
The sexy firefighter grinned, making his dimples plunge deeper into his cheek, and winked. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”
Sage was only human. Of course she checked out his ass as he walked away. The big yellow, rubber pants were anything but sexy, but the tight black T-shirt he had on under the suspenders revealing enormous chest muscles and biceps that could surely crack a lobster claw. The shirt fit him like a glove, showing off his tapered waist and most likely a delicious set of six-pack abs.
She’d never seen a man built so huge before. She liked her men fit, but there was no need for such excess. Probably the totally vain type who spent too much time at the gym and in front of the mirror, Sage turned her back on him and curled into the uncomfortable jacket.
It smelled faintly of smoke and also carried a clean soapy scent. Mr. Muscles returned quickly, his stride long, slow, and confident. “Looks like you’ll get your clothes back soon.”
“Good. No real emergency then?”
“Burnt bagel in a toaster in the staff lounge.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sage wiggled in an attempt to escape, the weight of the coat and the secured straps pinning her arms to her body like a straightjacket. “Can you please unbuckle me? I need to hurry.”
“Always a pleasure helping a lady out of her clothes.”
Sage rolled her eyes. “Please. There’s nothing sexual about this.”
“Really? You’re telling me you’re not naked under this coat?”
“I, uh…no. I’m wearing a johnny.”
“It’s Luke, not Johnny.” Those hazel orbs of sex winked at her.
“Lovely meeting you, Luke. And flirting, but I have to run.”