“Twenty-three-year-old male,” Nicole, one of the EMTs, informed them in an emotionless voice. “Went missing from his team for approximately ten minutes. Probable concussion. Unresponsive, sluggish pupils to the right.”

  Simon rounded the gurney and grabbed one edge of the sheet, wincing when he saw the burns on the man’s young face. “On my count. One, two, three.”

  He and Anya lifted the unconscious man, transferring him to the table.

  “Visible injuries?” asked Dr. Thorne.

  “No bruising. Head intact, blood pressure⁠—”

  “Wait, where’s the other patient?” Dread seized him. So many possible reasons for the second firefighter to be absent. None of them good.

  “I’m not a patient.” A lilting voice emanated from a corner of the room, carrying over the overlapping beeps of the cold machinery around them.

  The owner of the voice stepped forward, and Simon’s pulse slowed. He swallowed.

  She was stunning.

  Tall and lithe, she had an oval face and fawn complexion, with a pert nose and a small, full mouth. Silky black hair had been braided to hang over her shoulder, but whisps danced around her high cheekbones. She arched one elegant eyebrow at Simon, every pore in her body oozing comfort in her own skin.

  Simon had always been attracted to confident women, and this one seemed as if she’d never doubted herself a day in her life. Yes please.

  “According to your boss, you are.” Nicole’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Blood pressure one seventy over one hundred. Heart rate⁠—”

  “My boss isn’t here now.” The woman’s cool disregard for a moment of emergency bristled irritation up Simon’s spine. Beauty, apparently, did not come with compassion.

  Simon snuck another peek at her in between checking IV levels and prepping a needle to draw blood for tests.

  “You’re not my patient.” Thorne addressed the woman without looking at her. “Just please tell us what you can about this young man here.”

  “He shouted something about a drop off, screamed, and stopped responding.” The woman answered in clipped tones, counting off fingers as she listed the events. She glanced at the man in front of Simon, then down the hall leading back the way they’d come, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She scratched the back of her neck, and Simon swore quietly.

  Fidgeting could mean any number of things in his line of work. But coupled with irritability and paranoia, it often meant addiction. The fact that she’d been able to run through the forest with another firefighter across her back and no facial coverings set off alarm bells.

  Thorne nodded. “Let’s get him in for an X-ray. Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “No. If that’s all, I’ll be⁠—”

  “Not so fast.” Simon stepped in front of her before he could think better of his actions. Her gaze turned frosty, and the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Simon would have bet money icicles formed on the tip of his nose. “Dr. Thorne, I’ll take over her triage.”

  “Thank you, Simon,” Thorne responded, heading out with Anya and their patient.

  The woman turned on her heel and marched down the hall.

  “Where are you going?” Simon followed her.

  “Out,” she said without turning around.

  Figures that the only patient I want to see tonight doesn’t want to stay.

  “Not so fast. We were told two injured firefighters were arriving.”

  “Your boss said I’m not a patient.”

  “He said you’re not his patient. You’re mine now.”

  She chuckled. “You wish.”

  You have no idea. Her confidence made him want her even more. But he wouldn’t bait her now. “You could be more hurt than you realize, and when your adrenaline wears off, you’ll find yourself back here.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “You really wanna do this?”

  “Absolutely.” She mock saluted him.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s play it your way.” Let her go. But he couldn’t. Something about the way she held herself told him she’d fight through anything to keep up her tough front. He wouldn’t let her injure herself further because she was too stubborn to accept help. “Here’s what happens next. First, I call Nicole, the EMT you met earlier, who seems to know your boss. Second, after she gives me his name, I find his phone number and call him personally to tell him you refused care.” He knew he had her attention when she stopped walking, posture stiffening. “I also warn him to keep an eye on you and your nervous twitch⁠—”

  She whipped around, standing in front of him before he even saw her move. She was about two inches shorter than his six-foot-three height, and the way her gaze flicked sharply up his body, her lips pursed, he guessed she didn’t like being shorter than him. He didn’t need her even more pissed off, so he stepped back, reducing the few inches difference and hopefully making her more comfortable.

  “You really don’t want to blackmail me,” she said.

  This time, it was Simon’s turn to laugh.

  Her eyebrows shot into her sooty hairline. “I’m warning you⁠—”

  “My Chinese grandmother raised me from the age of ten, and I work in an ER with belligerent people every day. You don’t even rank on my intimidation scale.” He deflated as a thought occurred to him. “Look, if you’re worried about insurance, I can⁠—”

  “I can take care of it.”

  “In that case”—he opened the door to an empty triage room and gestured to the exam table—“have a seat.”

  Her nostrils flared, and he swore a tiny wisp of actual smoke drifted off her head. She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer. She smelled of incense, like burnt flowers that captivated his senses. He had the sudden urge to slide his fingers through her hair and kiss her.

  It must have registered on his face because she swallowed and leaned forward just a little bit.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never once thought about kissing a patient. But he’d never once felt so achingly attracted to one, either.

  He took the hand reaching for her hair and placed it lightly on her shoulder. “You might have to be tough to work with an alpha male fire crew, but not here. I won’t tell anyone you let me make sure you’re safe.”

  She blinked rapidly and stepped back, shedding some of the rigidity in her posture. Without a word, she sat on the table, paper crinkling underneath her.

  Feeling more in control with some distance between them, Simon bit back a smile at his small victory and surreptitiously moved a few of the pokier instruments into drawers.

  “I’m Simon, by the way. What should I call you? Or would you prefer I think of you as Pissed Off Patient Number Twelve?”

  “Only twelve?” She snorted. “I thought you were a pro at this.”

  “That’s just today. Are you currently experiencing any pain, Patient Twelve?”

  “Just in my ass.”

  God, that wit. “Then I’ll just take your temperature first, how’s that?” He held up the remote forehead thermometer. “I won’t even need to touch you.”

  “That’s a shame.” Her voice came out extra breathy, and Simon almost dropped the thermometer.

  “All in good time.” Back off. Flirt with her when she’s not your patient anymore. As soon as he pressed the button, it beeped and flashed red with the word HI and no number. “Huh.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Simon shook the thermometer and tried again. It flashed red with the word HI. “This one’s usually very reliable.” He took his own temperature. Green light and ninety-seven point nine. Patient Twelve leaned forward to examine the thermometer with him. He tried one more time on her with the same results.

  “I guess you’re too hot. Hang on, let me get another one.”

  He retrieved a second one from a cupboard and reached into his pocket, pulling out a highlighter, tape, a few cotton balls, and finally, the alcohol swabs he needed. This time, nothing would mess up his readings.

  “That’s quite the collection you’ve got.” She eyed the pockets of his scrub pants with one eyebrow raised. “Keep anything else in there?”

  “Plenty,” he promised with a wink. He held the new one to her forehead before he could say anything else wildly inappropriate. “Okay, let’s try this again.” Ninety-eight point nine.

  “Green. I can go now, right?”

  “You can’t leave me that easily. Now I take your heart rate.”

  “And what should that be?”

  “Normal is sixty to eighty beats per minute, but professional athletes have heart rates between thirty and forty beats per minute. Let’s see where you fall.”

  He held her wrist and began counting as he watched the second hand tick on the wall clock. “Interesting.”

  “Your vocabulary gets more limited the more confused you get.”

  God, she could be a stubborn jerk. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was purposefully controlling her body’s automatic functions to achieve the target numbers on purpose. Impossible. But this woman? She would if she could, he had no doubt.

  I really need sleep.

  “Are we d⁠—”

  “Stop asking. I’ll tell you when I’m done with you.” She sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything as he grabbed a cuff and slipped it on her arm. He really hoped that little throaty gasp was from his phrasing. “Before you ask, I’m expecting your blood pressure to be somewhere around one hundred over seventy. Again, there’s a range. Relax.”

  She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Simon waited until she seemed settled, then pumped up the cuff and waited to hear her blood in her artery. When he released the pressure completely, she arched one elegant brow at him, eyes still closed.

  One hundred over seventy. Couldn’t be.

  “Well, you…” He trailed off when she opened her eyes. Completely clear and focused, they tracked his movements perfectly, with no signs of concussion. They pulled him in, their color a heady mixture of cool forest, mint, and hunter greens. The combination struck his memory like a bell, loud and clear but dimming quickly. “Do I know you?”

  She arched one eyebrow in annoyance. “Seriously? That’s why you⁠—”

  “No!” Simon felt color rising in his face. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just having the worst case of déjà vu right now, and I thought… have you taken any trips recently?”

  “Are you trying to ask me to go somewhere with you?”

  “What? No. I just…” He wrinkled his brow, reaching for the impression that had seemed so clear only seconds before. “I apologize. I’m sure I saw you on an airplane or something.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, revealing a more toned physique in her lean frame, and smirked. “I don’t fly commercial.”

  So, she comes from money. But then why work as a firefighter in one of the most grueling squads?

  Patient Twelve shrugged and grabbed the bulb on the blood pressure cuff, inflating it until it resembled a balloon fidget toy. “I bet you could have a lot of fun with these. Do you ever…?” She touched her tongue to her upper lip and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Actually yes, just before you came in.” He let his voice drop seductively and pointed to the cuff she held. “With that one.”

  Color rose in her cheeks. Was she picturing it? Picturing him?

  He shouldn’t have crossed the bounds of an appropriate medical professional, but it was so hard not to try to push the buttons of the mysterious firefighter with the figure of an Amazonian warrior and the personality of Genghis Khan. He could barely breathe with her so close. She took up all the space in the room.

  And more than he wanted to admit in his mind.

  Simon completed the rest of the examination without a single red flag. She was entirely healthy. But…

  “I’d like to run a few more tests.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why?”

  He blew out a breath. “I won’t lie. So far, you’re perfect. Blood pressure, blood oxygen, heart rate… all consistent with a person with your level of physical activity.”

  “I told you. Do I seriously look injured to you?”

  Simon sat back. “Your face is covered in soot, there are burn marks on your shirt, and by your own account, you ran with an unconscious man across your back for nearly a mile with no helmet or protection from the smoke. And that’s before we get to your jitters in the other room.”

  “It’s called ‘adrenaline.’”

  “Not everyone ‘looks injured’ in the same way. It doesn’t matter how tough you are. I still want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Her nostrils flared again. “I’m fine. Just show me where to check out.”

  He waved her off. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Seriously? After all that?”

  “It’s not like I can’t find you if I need you. You work for the fire department. And I told you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  She stood and brushed past him as she headed for the door, gifting him with another whiff of her, this time like cinnamon and frankincense. It lingered, and Simon inhaled deeply, reaching for the memory that had begun to form when he’d looked into those green eyes of hers.

  Nothing.

  He shook his head. “I need more sleep.”

  Still, he couldn’t shake that nagging itch of familiarity, the feeling that with just one more piece of the puzzle, he’d remember her in an instant.

  3

  Lilis trembled as she strode through the small common area of the Eastern Sparks Ranger Station, a converted home that served as the base for six firefighting teams. Firefighters crowded around her, jostling her as they wiped down equipment, ate, relaxed, and scrolled through their phones.

  I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here.

  She swallowed and dug her fingernails into her palms to ground herself. Stay in this form. Don’t go back to the hospital.

  Her mind had played the same refrain on repeat since she’d walked away from Simon, the man who completely redefined Sexy Nurse. Even now, she was only barely keeping herself from going back to run some medical tests of her own. Like height, muscle tone, and endurance. What she could see through his scrubs hinted at a body built for pleasure. And he’d seemed prepared to demonstrate it to her.

  You don’t need that kind of trouble.

  But she couldn’t stop picturing him instead of all the men around her. She wouldn’t even have come back to the station if another firefighter hadn’t been waiting for her in the hospital lobby on Vega’s orders. Her entire body ached and strained to be free of the shackles holding her in one form. She needed to escape, to run, to soar.

  She edged toward the side door, the promise of freedom beckoning from the other side. All she needed now was⁠—

  “Gerru.” Noah Carter, a black man of medium height with thick black hair and a beard, separated himself from the crowd. Lilis tensed as he approached, readying herself for the shouting match.

  But as soon as he reached her, Carter clapped her on the shoulder, giving her a little shake, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled into a thin line. “Nice work.” He kept his voice just above a whisper. “Vega’s going to tear you a new everything for what you pulled today. And a bunch of us might do the same for taking off without saying anything. But… thanks for getting Hoyt out.”

  Lilis shrugged under Carter’s meaty hand. “Any time.”

  “Gerru.” Vega’s voice silenced everyone faster than an exploding canon, even though he hadn’t shouted. The other firefighters shrank back like match flames before a fire hose to make way for him. A tall Mexican man in his late forties, covered in tattoos that spanned his arms and neck, he strode with the unflappable demeanor of a leader who knows he’s in charge of a bunch of strong personalities and won’t take anyone’s bullshit.

  He stopped a foot away from her, the dark circles under his eyes the only giveaway he hadn’t slept recently.

  Just let this be quick. Chew me out here and then⁠—

  “My office. Now.”

  Shit.

  Lilis followed him into the communal bathroom with two stalls. The tiny station had never been intended to host so many out-of-town teams, and Vega had needed to take over one toilet as a workspace. He folded down the toilet lid and sat, pulling a tray table with a stack of papers in front of him.

  “Have a seat.” He indicated the upholstered wooden bench on the opposite wall that an enthusiastic donor had gifted when the station needed more furniture.

  Lilis sat gingerly on the fluffy bleacher and crossed her legs. Vega shuffled papers, and Lilis shifted positions, crossing her other leg.

  Her dragon pushed against her, restless and caged in the tiny, cramped room.

  Fifteen minutes, she promised.

  She looked around, desperate for any window in the little space so she could at least see the night sky. Or clouds. Anything but the tight, beige walls and weird upholstery.

  Vega still did not address her.

  Lilis began to bounce one knee. “Did we really need spectator seating in the bathroom?”

  He glanced at her without lifting his head, the reprimanding fire in his gaze enough to make her dragon blush. Lilis shrank under his glare. This man controlled her future. Could kick her off the team with a single word.

  Maybe she shouldn’t piss him off.

  “You have one job, Gerru.” He spoke in low, calm tones. “Do you have any idea what it is?”

  Figure out which of the humans in the other room is setting traps. “Yes, sir,” she said aloud instead. “I’m here to fight the fire.”

  “Wrong.” A small tic started in his jaw. “Your job is to do exactly as I say. Do you understand me?”

  “Sir, all due respect⁠—”

  “Do you. Understand. Me?” Vega crossed his arms and leaned back, his entire demeanor transforming instantly into a mask of leashed rage. His tone dropped. “Not one of those men out there is here to think for himself on this job. You are no different.”

  Lilis’ heart pounded, and her whole body ached with the force of holding back her anger. “I found Hoyt.”

 

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