Oh, she didnotjust ask that. “The greatest action hero of all time? The guy fromDie Hard?”
“I’ve heard of those movies, but I’ve never seen any of them.”
If he’d needed any more of a definitive sign this woman wasn’t his type, that was it. There were six movies, so she had toworkat not seeing any of them. “You’re missing out. So, what’s your name?”
“Olivia.”
“Pretty name.” Classic and elegant, and it suited her. “I’m Derek.”
“Can you pry open the doors?” she asked, clearly not in a place to be distracted by small talk.
“With my bare hands?” He held them up, showing off his lack of tools. “I work out a little, but not that much.”
Her gaze flicked over his body, and he stood up straighter and sucked in his gut. Not that there was much to suck in, but he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. Hell, he was barely still in his thirties. “You work out more than a little.”
Her tone of voice made it sound like just an observation, but he didn’t miss her gaze lingering for a second on his chest or the way her eyebrow lifted as her mouth curved into a hint of a smile. She wasn’t flirting, but she liked what she saw and he’d take the win. He’d need all the ego boosting he could get once the other guys started giving him shit for having to rescue him from an elevator.
Then she shifted her weight and, when she winced again, Derek gave her a stern look. “You’re hurt.”
“No, I’m not. I twisted my ankle a little when the elevator stopped.”
“You need to get those shoes off and let me look at it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t care how nice this elevator is, I amnottouching the floor with my bare feet.”
Derek picked up his coat, letting the helmet roll free, and—with a flourish—spread it over the floor in front of her. “Your carpet, milady.”
* * *
Olivia McGovern didn’t have time to be stuck in an elevator today. Her schedule was so tight the Lyft driver who was hopefully still waiting outside for her after her text would determine the fate of her punctuality streak, and she hadn’t been late to a meeting in the three years since she’d officially hung out her McGovern Consulting shingle.
But none of that seemed to matter when she looked into the warm blue eyes of the firefighter smiling at her right now. It had been the smile he gave her as he stepped onto the elevator that first caught her attention. That smile that was just a little friendlier than a polite thank-you and radiated warmth had been sexy, she had to admit. His helmet coming off to reveal tousled dark, dirty blond hair, along with the Boston Fire T-shirt showing off a very nicely built upper body, hadn’t hurt, either.
But it was the boyish grin he gave her as he spread his coat out like a gentleman in a story that really kicked her heartbeat into high gear.
As did putting her hand on his arm to steady herself as she stepped out of the heels. The first time she’d clutched his arm—when she’d been thrown into his arms—he’d been wearing the coat she was standing on. But now she could feel the firm muscle and the warmth of his skin through the blue cotton.
“Thank you,” she said in a slightly choked voice. Her ankle really wasn’t that bad, but being out of the shoes for a few minutes would definitely help.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of her and she sucked in a sharp breath. His hands closed around her ankle and she pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t make any sort of a sound when he ran his hands up over her calf muscle and back to her ankle. He pressed gently with his thumbs, and maybe it was her imagination, but it sounded like the deep breathhetook shuddered just a little.
“No swelling,” he said, pushing back to his feet. “It doesn’t look bad, but you should elevate it while we’re waiting. You can sit on the coat.”
Getting into a sitting position on the coat while wearing a skirt was a challenge, but Derek had turned away to retrieve his helmet so she did it as quickly and with as much modesty as she could. She assumed he was going to use the helmet to prop her ankle up, but he simply set it right side up and then sat down at her feet.
An unexpected rush of heat flooded her when he lifted her foot and shifted so he could rest it on his thigh, and she hoped it didn’t show on her face.
“It really should be elevated more, but we don’t have a lot of options,” he said. “Is this okay?”
His hand was massaging her ankle and she didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded. He had calluses and his hands weren’t abrasive, but just rough enough so a shiver went through her.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his thumb brushing over her ankle bone.
“I’m fine,” she forced herself to say, but she was struggling with the awareness that for the first time in her life, she was very tempted to make out with a total stranger in an elevator.
“So, Olivia,” he said in a low voice that turned her on almost as much as his hands on her ankle. “You know I’m a firefighter. What do you do for work? That’s quite a book you’ve got there.”
She looked down at the leather cover protecting a variety of notebooks and papers, then back at him. “I’m a productivity systems consultant.”
