When Staci Takes Charge

by Calista Fox

  But the fantasy was incredibly titillating. Enthralling. Tempting, even.

  In her arousing voice, she mused, “So you could actually still be asleep at this very moment. And you never, ever saw me.”

  She flashed a pearly white smile.

  He smirked. “That’s not exactly how you convince someone they’re sleepwalking and dreaming.”

  “And you’re an expert?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Well then.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Why don’t you sleepwalk your way back into your suite, I’ll follow and use your phone to call down to the front desk to let them know I’m locked out of my suite, and we’ll pretend this never happened? Whether you’re truly awake or not.”

  “You shouldn’t leave your key in your room when you go for ice.”

  “Gee. You think?”

  Evan shook his head. “I see you like to be antagonistic.”

  “No, I like to be fully clothed when caught in situations such as this.”

  His gaze swept over her. He couldn’t help it. Hoped he could blame it on the supposed sleepwalking and justify it that way to both himself and to her.

  But Evan had to concede that, even in his wildest dreams, he would not have conjured this insanely beautiful, perfectly sculpted creature. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have such a smart mouth. Evan preferred women who were a bit more demure. Studious. More bookish than…sassy and seductive.

  Ha. There it was.

  Proof that he had to be dreaming, because he never in a million years would consciously allow his very structured thoughts to run in these crazy directions.

  The fantasy said, “So…how ’bout it?”

  Every muscle in his body went rigid.

  Yeah. Even that one.

  Well, he had the beginnings of an erection at any rate. One that would easily qualify as a mammoth hard-on if he didn’t keep his cool. Thank God he wore loose black pants to help hide the evidence of her effect on him. He also had on a deep-blue tank top and was barefoot. His dark hair had to be a tousled mess from raking his hands through it half the night in frustration. And he knew he sported a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. Or, rather, a three a.m. shadow.

  He’d been no more prepared for this encounter than she.

  He flipped the security latch outward to keep his door from closing and locking behind him, and took a few strides across the hall to scoop up the ice bucket. His gaze locked on candy-apple-red toenails.

  Christ, even her feet were sexy.

  With absolutely no restraint whatsoever—again not like him at all—his gaze traveled up her ankles, her calves, her thighs…

  His mouth watered as he continued over her flat stomach and her full breasts. All that registered in his brain was silky skin, satiny material…and lace. Oh, the lace.

  Get a grip, man.

  You’re not an animal.

  Or a caveman.

  Though he suddenly had caveman tendencies. To throw this gorgeous woman over his shoulder and carry her into his cave.

  Heat rushed through his veins. A couple beads of perspiration popped along his hairline.

  It was entirely possible he’d spent too much time in the office lately, and too little time socializing with the female gender.

  Or perhaps it was just that he’d never come across a woman that set his body on fire the way this one did.

  He found himself saying, “If I really am dreaming, I have a much better imagination than I ever knew.”

  She took the bucket from him, holding it tightly to her midsection with both hands.

  The cords of her long, graceful neck pulled as she sucked in a sharp breath. Her enticing chest rose and fell a bit faster. Lust lit her tawny eyes.

  Yes, lust.

  Impossible to miss.

  “I can’t recall the last time a man looked at me that way,” she admitted in a quiet, provocative tone.

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “Like you could kiss me from head to toe—and not miss any of the good parts in between.”

  He groaned—because what she’d suggested was exactly what he wanted to do. But he was couth by nature. Usually was, anyway. “Sorry. I’m being rude.”

  “I wasn’t actually complaining. In fact…It’s incredibly flattering. No one ever sees me like this.”

  “That’s a damn shame.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” She swallowed hard. A hint of emotion—lonesomeness?—flickered in her mesmerizing irises, and tugged at his heartstrings quite unexpectedly.

  She said, “I’m not sure what’s worse. Me locked out of my room, caught in nothing but skimpy lingerie I paid too much for…or the fact that I’m wearing skimpy lingerie I paid too much for and there’s no one on the other side of this door to let me in.”

  That just plain killed him.

  Evan pried one of her hands from the silver container. Very gently, very slowly, he pulled her across the corridor, backing up because he still faced her, staring intently at her.

  She came along willingly.

  He pushed the door open with his foot, still lost in her eyes, though he lifted his free hand and gestured toward the security latch. “That’s how you keep from getting locked out.”

  One corner of her luscious mouth quirked. “Way to beat your point to a bloody pulp.”

  He chuckled. “Just sharing a little tip.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re clearly an I-told-you-so type.”

  “No. It’s not my first rodeo at a swank hotel, either.”

  Now she gnawed her bottom lip. It was wholly distracting, so thank God she released it.

  She asked, “You’ve done this before?”

  Evan wasn’t sure what this really entailed. But he set the record straight by assuring her, “I don’t pick up women in hotel bars, if that’s what you’re thinking. And I’ve never come across one in lingerie in the hallway.”

  “So no one else has been in that room this evening?” Her chin jerked toward the bedroom.

  “Just the staff for turn-down service. Truffles are still on the pillows. Help yourself.”

  “I already ate mine. It was the highlight of the past hour.”

  “You should have a little more excitement than that behind closed doors.”

  Had he actually said those words? Hmm. It was a little too pot-calling-the-kettle-black.

  She told him, “I’m also not in the habit of hotel hookups. I’ve been a bit too far out of the game to start playing it now.”

  “I’m not a player myself,” he said earnestly. And he could easily repeat her sentiment—she didn’t know the half of it. Evan had definitely become an all-work-and-no-play man.

  As evidenced when she glanced around his biceps and spied the living room, where papers were strewn everywhere. Not to mention his clothes.

  Her brow crooked. “Did a tornado blow through here?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve been obsessed of late.” He was usually incredibly neat and orderly. Meticulous, even. An everything-in-its-proper-place sort. But after attending a conference here at the Four Seasons the past couple of days, his mind had raced with some new possibilities for a project, and he couldn’t quite keep up with the barrage of ideas and extensive research they spawned.

  She asked, “What do you do?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  “On TV, or in real life?”

  “Ha, ha,” he quipped.

  “PhD or MD?”

  “MD.”

  “Ah. Groovy.”

  He laughed softly again. Giving one more tug on her hand so that she was in the entryway, he reached around her and flipped the latch so the door could shut behind her. Then indicated the phone on the desk and said, “You can make your call whenever you want.”

  Her gaze followed the motion of his hand toward the phone. An easy escape route for her—the request for someone to let her into her own suite. Then she looked back at Evan.

  His gut clenched. It wasn’t ju
st that she was so damn beautiful—and yes, so scintillating in lingerie. It was really more the range of emotions flaring in her eyes that spoke to him. Captivated him.

  A woman who looked like that shouldn’t be wearing lingerie for only herself to enjoy, and he suspected she was feeling insecure that someone had discovered her secret.

  If that was an accurate assumption, he suddenly yearned to kiss away that vulnerability.

  He couldn’t even stop himself from saying, “You can contact the front desk. Or…you could stay awhile longer.”

  Chapter Three

  Staci stared up at the hunky man who’d just kinda-sorta propositioned her.

  And who’d sent her pulse through the roof.

  She had no idea what possessed her, but she found herself asking, “What are the chances of this remaining…anonymous?”

  She was in a stranger’s hotel room in the middle of the night. In a baby doll nightie. She really didn’t need the name Staci Kay on his extremely kissable lips—or for him to make any correlation between the woman standing before him and the owner and founder of Staci Kay Shoes. Particularly given that her logo and the “Leave Your Shoes On” slogan had been plastered all over the Four Seasons this evening.

  An innocent slip on his part could be detrimental to her reputation. Especially at such a crucial time for her business, when she was hoping the earlier shoe show would turn her company into a household name—in a good way. Not in the middle-of-the-night, scandalous-rendezvous way.

  Which meant that the smartest thing for Staci to do was to go straight to the phone and make that call.

  Yet her feet didn’t move her in that direction.

  They didn’t move at all.

  She continued to stare up at the tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome man and just couldn’t bring herself to make a mad dash out the door.

  He was hot. Way hot. Scorchingly hot.

  Chiseled muscles. Scruffy jaw that gave him an edgy look. Blazing blue eyes. And his hair…Oh, God, his hair. A bit wavy and a tad on the long side. In complete disarray, making her think of nothing more than rumpling the sheets with him and further mussing those thick, silky-looking strands.

  He said, “I suppose I could go along with that.”

  “Hmm?” She had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Anonymity.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I’d completely forgotten what I’d said.”

  He grinned. A devilish one. Her stomach flipped. Her inner thighs flamed.

  She was breathless again.

  He suggested, “Bill?”

  Staci gave a shake of her head.

  “Thomas?”

  Another shake.

  “Edward?”

  “How about…Nick?” A bad-boy name that inspired a tickle along her clit. Or perhaps what did the trick was the sinfully delicious man practically devouring her with a hungry gaze.

  “Fine,” he said in his low, intimate tone. “Nick it is.”

  “Very nice.” The pseudonym, the fact that he was willing to be secretive, the ache that started deep in her core…All very nice.

  Well, once again, hot was the more appropriate word. Whatever.

  He asked, “And you are…?”

  “Cassie?”

  This time, he was the one with the head shake.

  “Tracy?”

  He repeated the gesture.

  “You choose.”

  He appeared contemplative as he searched his mind, then said, “Liz. Spunky and sassy. Befitting.”

  “Works for me.”

  He chuckled. A rumbling sound that reverberated through her. Heightened her arousal. Made her pussy throb so that she had to press her thighs together in an attempt to slow the erratic beats.

  “You’re really a doctor?” she asked.

  “Yes. I can provide adequate credentials. But then we’d lose the anonymity.”

  “Of course. I’ll just have to trust you.” Not too difficult to do. He had honest eyes. No, she couldn’t really qualify that assessment. Except to say that they weren’t the least bit guarded. He didn’t temper his expressions. Didn’t hide the flashes of heat or the genuine fascination he seemed to have with her. Still, she said, “I’m sure you grasp the risk of an encounter of this nature.”

  “That’s why I never do it. And, well…I’m not normally interested.”

  “I suppose that makes us kindred spirits.”

  “I suppose it does.”

  He took the ice bucket from her. Set it on the foyer table. Turned back to her.

  The suite was dimly lit. Just one light on in the far corner and the sapphire glow of his laptop screen.

  Staci couldn’t quite bring herself to move around him and get comfortable on the sofa. She didn’t want to take a single step away from him.

  She could smell his earthy, intoxicating scent. The hint of expensive cologne. Male heat. Virility. He had a commanding presence, towering over her and filling the space with all of his muscles. Muscles her fingers itched to touch.

  He took a short stride toward her and nearly closed the gap between them.

  Her breathing turned shallow. Odd, because her heart thumped mightily.

  She reached a hand out and grazed her French-manicured nails along his abs. His body jolted.

  This big, strapping, sexy-as-hell man reacted instantly to her touch. Not even a full-on touch.

  And didn’t that get her juices flowing! She was going to be dripping wet before he actually laid a hand on her.

  Staci’s fingers curled around the material of his tank top. She leaned forward, until her breasts brushed just below his hard pectoral ledge. She felt the jarring again. Not only from him, but within her as well.

  Her nipples pebbled. Her blood turned molten.

  His head dipped, and his lips swept over hers. So warm and soft. Inviting. Enticing.

  Staci whispered, “I used to enjoy kissing.”

  “What happened to change your mind?”

  “I never did change my mind. It was changed for me.”

  Oh, God. How had the ex files popped into her brain?

  Well, not so much files. Just one. Sadly, depressingly singular.

  A man Staci never wanted to think about again, let alone mention.

  “How about I change it back?” Nick offered.

  Her heart fluttered. “That’d be nice.”

  “I’m not striving for nice.” Lust tinged his rich, sensual tone.

  Excitement shot through her. “Words a woman likes to hear in the bedroom.”

  “Do you want to take this into the bedroom?”

  Anticipation rippled down her spine. “What would you prefer?”

  He stepped forward again, slowly. Forcing her backward until she was trapped between the door and his brick wall of a chest.

  Heat flared between her legs.

  His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place.

  As though she were going anywhere.

  Not in a million.

  His breath was light and breezy on her skin. Tantalizing. His eyes bored into hers, full of desire and need.

  Oh, the need.

  It burned in his electric-blue irises.

  “This is where you change my mind,” Staci said on a wisp of air. “About kissing.”

  He swallowed hard.

  She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the desire and need intensified in his expression.

  He had her jonesing for him without doing a damn thing. Just gazing so fixatedly, hitching the anticipation, holding her spellbound.

  Making her ache for him.

  Aha. That was his tactic.

  Making her ache for him.

  Okay. Mission accomplished.

  She wasn’t above begging. “Kiss me. Please.”

  His mouth crashed over hers. Her lips instantly parted, and his tongue delved deep, twisting and tangling with hers. Immediately engaging her. Immediately sending her soaring.

/>   He kissed her with the kind of reckless abandon that had her restless in no time flat. Had her hot and bothered. Her fingers curled into his biceps as she held on tight. Letting him take control. Letting him spark dark, searing passion. Letting him take what he wanted, because she was willing to give it.

  One of her hands left his upper arm and plowed through the hair at his nape. His lush, luxurious hair. Hair meant specifically for a woman to twine her fingers in.

  A groan lodged in his throat. Exciting her even more.

  He leaned into her, sealing their bodies. His skin was hot, and he was hard. So hard. Her stomach cradled his erection. The feel of him, thick and wide, tempted and taunted her. Drove her absolutely wild.

  She hadn’t really expected to be able to get him rock hard in a heartbeat. Not a man who looked like him. Not one who was clearly capable of curbing all animalistic urges to get his work done.

  And that must have taken him by surprise, too, because he tore his mouth from hers, let out a low growl, and spun around, stalking off.

  “Whoa,” she said, a bit lightheaded. Her chest heaved. Her blood sizzled. “That was one hell of a kiss.”

  “Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair, keeping his broad back and shoulders to her. But she could see the muscles bunched and could tell his chest rose and fell just as quickly as hers did.

  “Hey,” she said as she naturally gravitated to him. Melded against him, her front to his back. Her hands slipped under the hem of his tank at his sides and slid around to his midsection, all the corrugated grooves of his stomach making her even more crazed. “Got a little too caught up there?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You weren’t striving for nice, remember?”

  He grunted in frustration, maybe in jest? It was a titillating combination either way.

  “I’m not used to losing control,” he told her.

  “You didn’t lose control.”

  “Oh, but I was damn close. Jesus. I could come from that kiss alone. From the sight of you. The feel of you…The taste of you.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” One of her hands glided lower, beneath the band of his pants.

  A thrill ran through her as she discovered he wasn’t wearing briefs or boxers. Was gloriously naked under the loose material. And good Lord, he was huge.

  Her fingers coiled around his shaft. His body jerked once more. She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it since her cheek was pressed to his shoulder blade.