Chapter 17
Jasher
Was Jasher imagining things, or were Sage’s pupils dilated and her face flushed? Her gaze darted to the label on the door reading Linens. Then she looked at him again, and there was a barely perceptible nod of her head.
A green light. Exactly what he’d been waiting for.
“There’s something we need to discuss, as you know.” He twisted the doorknob, pressing the door to the dim room open. He stepped through. Would she follow?
Sage stood, haloed by the hallway’s florescent lights behind her, her hair like an angel’s, her hourglass silhouette like … wowza! Something a lot less angelic came to mind.
It was reckless. He knew it. She stepped in behind him. His pushing shut the door of the linen closet behind them was indeed a bold move. Sure, their twelve-hour shift had ended fifteen minutes ago at seven, but the demands of the ER and the mysterious case with that farmer had prolonged their stay, and neither had officially signed over the cases to the next shift yet.
“I’m still on shift.” She was reading his thoughts, apparently. “What about ethics?”
To blazes with them.
Besides, despite her words, Sage’s body language wasn’t resisting as much as a woman’s who really cared about ethics in the moment might. In fact, she seemed curious. And willing.
“I’m testing boundaries.”
Sunlight filtered in through a high window. The room probably smelled like clean sheets and bleach, but all he could smell was Sage’s scent.
“Case after case in the ER today next to you. I’m going insane.” Jasher steered Sage’s back against the door. She’d become more and more tempting with every passing hour.
“Insane, huh?” Sage angled her body toward his. “Do you need a psychiatric evaluation?”
“Do you feel qualified to perform one? If so, then yes. A complete examination. I believe you prefer thoroughness.”
With the golden sun coming through, her violet eyes contained those gold flecks he’d seen in the candlelight the other night. Ah, and he’d been afraid he might not ever capture that moment again. Someone up there liked Jasher Hotchkiss.
“I don’t want your time in here with me to be a mistake.” Sage’s lips parted. The bottom one was full, almost pouting. He couldn’t wait to take possession of it.
“Fact is, you’ve ruined the better part of my medical concentration by hinting you’d consider a mild indiscretion between doctor and nurse anesthetist in a closet.”
“Oh. Did I say that?”
“You absolutely said that. And it’s been like a crazy-pill.”
“Let me think. Are crazy-pills FDA approved?” Her breath smelled like vanilla and mint. Like those white Tic Tacs he could eat nonstop. “They sound dangerous.”
“Oh, they are. Highly. Albeit addictive, I hear.” He pressed aside a lock of her hair that had escaped her ponytail, and his curled fingers brushed her porcelain cheek’s flush. “Unless I get a quick antidote, I’m afraid I’ll be unfit to finish this shift, or any future shift.”
“And that antidote might be …?”
“This.” He took her in his arms. “You.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, softer than velvet. He drank in her scent—past the shampoo fragrance and the Tic Tacs, to where it was all Sage Everton.
Her curvaceous frame was supple and demanding at once.
“Jasher.” Sage’s voice was husky, almost raw. “It’s been far too long a wait.”
“Fifteen years too long.”
“Try fifteen years and four months.” Her husky whisper snaked through him and awakened his every sense.
She remembered their kiss. To the month. Well, of course she did. That kiss had rained fire all over the booth and the fairgrounds, igniting his world. No way she hadn’t been burned as well.
Deep in her eyes, he gazed into past and future at once.