by Calista Fox
“Not this afternoon, Miss Kay.” He kept walking. Didn’t even look up—or at her!
She was taken aback yet again. Did the man have no manners whatsoever?
Was he the great and powerful Wizard of Mount Sinai everyone revered, and he therefore didn’t deign to speak with anyone until they’d been properly vetted, spit-shined, and stamped with his seal of approval?
Or did he just consider her beneath him?
Her steely resolve kicked into high gear, and she trailed behind the men, having to take double time steps to keep up—ironically wishing for her flats, but feeling infinitely more confident in her heels.
“Please, Dr. Hart,” she said, interrupting one of the other doctors, who was speaking. “I won’t take up much of your time, I promise. Twenty minutes, that’s all.”
He kept walking. Staci quickly amended her statement. “Fifteen minutes.”
No response.
“Ten.” She pleaded, “Please. This has nothing to do with anything related to the media—well, except for the fact that the press would probably hail you as a genius in yet another area of podiatry if you were to partner with me to help—”
“I’m sorry…” Evan came to an abrupt halt—and Staci plowed right into him.
“Umph!” she grumbled as her body slammed into his.
And good Lord was he a solid, commanding, immovable force. She literally bounced off him and stumbled backward.
Fortunately, Evan Hart had lightning-quick reflexes and reached for her, gripping her upper arms, pulling her a bit too close to him for comfort, and steadying her.
That was when she got her first good look at him. Full-on.
The hair. She’d plowed her fingers through it before.
The electric-blue eyes behind the glasses—not the thick-lensed ones from the photo, but much more stylish this time. They’d stared deep into her own eyes.
The chiseled cheeks she’d admired. The six feet three inches of virility she’d gotten lost in…
The breath left her on one hard rush of air.
Holy shit!
It was Nick!
“Careful,” he scolded in a low tone. A low, sexy tone that started a slow burn in her belly. “Those shoes are not the least bit practical, Miss Kay. You could easily slip and fall on this tile.”
“It wasn’t the shoes that nearly landed me on my ass, Dr. Hart,” she ground out—as her insides sizzled and snapped.
Oh, my God!
Her sexy one-night stand was the pompous ass?
The flicker of recognition in his eyes confirmed that she’d nailed it.
But she didn’t need to give herself away and alert his colleagues that he’d nailed her!
Staci hitched her chin and said, “You shouldn’t put the brakes on when you know someone is following so closely behind you.”
“Why are you following so closely behind me, Miss Kay?” he demanded.
Staci slid a glance toward one of his companions, then the other. Both men eyed her curiously—and with the flare of interest she was accustomed to seeing. Though that interest was not reflected in Evan Hart’s eyes. In fact, he all but glared at her.
She suggested, “Perhaps we could take this conversation into your office?”
One of the physicians clasped Evan on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up later.” He snickered under his breath.
The other one muttered, “Firecracker.” They both strolled off, chuckling softly.
Staci’s attention returned to Evan. “I apologize for interrupting. I understand how busy and important you are. But I honestly do need your help.”
“If it was a referral for an exam or surgery, you would have already shared that with my assistant.”
“I don’t need surgery,” she told him. “I need—” She shook her head. Her heart pounded a bit too hard, and her pulse raged in her ears. Little tremors moved through her, and she could not for the life of her say why except…by some act of an evil god, she was just as hot for stuffy Dr. Hart as she’d been for his sexy alter ego, Nick!
Everything about this man heightened her senses and thoroughly aroused her.
His voice, so very sensual. His hands, which were still wrapped around her biceps— strong and yet decidedly gentle. His muscular build, which the too-large lab coat had covered up in the photo that she suspected had been taken at least a decade ago.
It didn’t even matter that he was all buttoned-up, as always, or wearing the glasses.
That stuffy-looking photo of him did not do the man justice in real life, this up close and personal.
Not in a million!
He had a set jaw, this time clean shaven. And his dark hair was a bit wavy, a bit unruly. As she remembered. Definitely not the perfectly combed-into-submission hair he’d sported in the picture or at his speaking engagements. And his mouth…
Jesus.
Her gaze fixed on his lips. His perfect lips. Not too thick, not too thin. Soft looking. Tempting. Damn tempting.
Because she knew how they felt against her lips. On her skin. All over her body.
Her chest rose and fell quickly as her breathing escalated. Her blood turned to magma, scorching her insides as it flowed through her veins.
She literally lost her train of thought as heat and erotic sensations took over, making her nipples tighten behind the lacy cups of her bra and sparking an incessant thrumming against her clit and deep in her pussy.
“Miss Kay,” Nick—Dr. Hart—prompted. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.” Her voice sounded darker than usual. Sultry and provocative. And sort of distant, as though she were lost in some lust-induced haze.
You are lost in some lust-induced haze.
Right.
“You were saying…?” he urged.
“Yes. I was saying that…” She tripped through her mind, trying to latch on to coherent thoughts. They all eluded her.
What the hell had she been saying?
Come on, Stace. Get a grip!
“That you need my help,” he offered.
“Yes.” Aha! That was correct. “Yes, I do.”
“Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. Then I’ve got to be in a meeting.”
Five minutes? That was nowhere near enough time, because she had to collect her wicked, errant thoughts before she could even begin to discuss her problem with this man.
And why the hell was he pretending he didn’t know her? Didn’t recognize her?
Sure, her hair was all different. Straight and sleek, not damp and curly. She had on makeup. Lipstick.
Clothes.
Did he really not know it was her? The woman whom he’d made come so damn hard at the Four Seasons she’d actually screamed in sheer ecstasy?
Shrugging him off—and he immediately released her—Staci took two steps backward, her mind reeling. She needed physical distance for mental clarity.
Not that she fully achieved it, because she suddenly blurted, “Have dinner with me tonight so that I can explain.”
“Dinner?” His dark brows shot up. But a hint of intrigue flashed in his eyes. Finally!
“It would be much easier if I didn’t have to rush through this. It’s a good cause. I swear.”
“Well, you have been extremely persistent.”
“I don’t know any man who’d make me chase him all over the continent. Or any man who I’d do it for, to be perfectly honest, but…” She shook her head. “I think it’s worth it.”
His jaw worked. As though he hedged at the invitation. But then he said, “I’m afraid I already have plans for the evening.”
“Can I persuade you to change them for Jean Marquis at eight o’clock?”
“It would be impossible to get reservations on such short notice. The restaurant only recently opened, and it’s booked seven weeks out.”
“Even for you? World-renowned podiatric surgeon?”
He smirked. “Even for me. Surgeons don’t rank as high as rock stars, actors, and politicians. Billionaires and hei
resses. You get the picture.”
“Meet me there, anyway.”
His gaze turned skeptical. Then curious. “Do you always get your way, Miss Kay?”
“We’ll find out tonight, won’t we?”
He stared at her for several long, intense moments. Staci’s fingers itched to remove his glasses to get the full impact of the cerulean irises she knew held the potential to smolder. For her.
But he was all business. And certainly not devouring her with the hungry gaze she’d been the recipient of at three o’clock in the morning.
No, it was more like he was skeptical of her, which alarmed her slightly. Making it a huge surprise when he eventually conceded.
He said, “I’ll be there at eight. If you can get us a table, we’ll talk. Otherwise, I have somewhere else to be.”
Christ, the man loved playing hard to get.
The man who’d told her he wasn’t a player.
But there were certainly games afoot here.
What was his deal, anyway?
He tore his gaze from hers and sauntered off. Staci watched him go, admiring his backside. Despite the lab coat. Because she knew exactly what lay beneath the coat and his suit.
She more than longed to see him naked again—she craved it.
A crazy notion, but also an inescapable one.
Excitement trilled through her. Though Staci wasn’t sure if that was because she’d finally gotten an audience with the stoic, jet-setting surgeon or if it was just the man himself that lit her up.
Either way, she had a call to make.
She turned around, took three small steps, and went sliding across the now-wet tile. She let out a cry just as her feet slipped from underneath her, and she landed smack on her ass.
Exactly as Dr. Evan Hart had predicted.
Chapter Nine
Evan heard the sharp cry and whipped around, only to find Liz—oh, Christ, Staci Kay—sitting on the floor, her back to him.
“Shit,” he murmured. Then demanded, “Are you all right?” He took several wide strides toward her just as several others rushed to her aid, including the janitor mopping the floor.
Evan shooed them all away and knelt beside Staci, who looked a bit dazed. Again. Only this time, she looked jarred for an entirely different reason.
When she’d lost her voice earlier, he’d surmised it was because she was surprised he was actually speaking with her when he’d so successfully brushed her off all week. Now she looked as though she might be in pain.
“Just take it easy,” he said.
She shot him a dour look. “Do I appear to be on the verge of hysterics here?”
“No, not exactly. Just…” He groaned. His colleague Dr. Morrow had been right. She was a firecracker. “Where does it hurt?”
“Where do you think?” she deadpanned. “I fell on my ass. And by the way, why aren’t there any Slippery When Wet signs set out? I could sue this hospital.”
He cocked a brow. “Are you going to sue this hospital?”
“If you try to weasel out of dinner, yes.”
He let out a strangled sound of frustration mixed with awe. The woman pulled no punches. But he’d known that already. Knew exactly how feisty she could be—and how damn sexy.
Do not think of that.
Difficult to avoid, because here she was. In the flesh.
Flesh.
Do not think of that!
Damn it. He was so screwed.
“Dinner it is,” he reluctantly said. Then he added, “Let’s take a look at your ankles, shall we? Make sure you didn’t break or twist anything when you fell.”
She sassily asked, “What about my ass?”
Evan couldn’t fight the grin. “I can have someone X-ray it if you’d like.”
“Nice to see you have a sense of humor, Doc. But I’m not sitting on a copy machine with my pants around my ankles just so you can get back at me for hijacking your evening.”
“Tempting though that notion is, Miss Kay, we’re a bit more high tech here at Mount Sinai. I can upgrade you to the flatbed scanner, and we can instantly email the results to your primary care physician.”
She laughed, full and lush.
Continuing, he said, “I’m sure your backside is fine. Plus…you’re not wearing pants.”
Unfortunately for him. Because now all he saw were the bare, tanned, and toned mile-long legs he’d enjoyed having wrapped around him. That he still craved to have wrapped around him. He couldn’t escape her silky-looking, honey-colored skin, either. For fuck’s sake, even her knees were gorgeous.
Forcing himself to not ogle her—no easy feat because Staci Kay was by far the most stunning woman to ever cross his path, even in a business suit rather than skimpy lingerie—he reached for the small handbag that had slipped from under her arm and handed it over. Then he very carefully removed her heels, which were, alas, sexy as hell.
No, he hadn’t forgotten how sensational she was from the top of her red head to the tips of her crimson-painted toes. A siren in, irony of all ironies, six-inch heels.
He handed them over as well. Then he scooped her up in his arms and stood.
“Whoa!” She gasped. “What the hell?”
“We don’t typically store wheelchairs on the administrative floors, and I need to check you out before you put those shoes back on. Which I strongly advise against. But I have the distinct impression you won’t heed the warning, even after falling flat on your ass.”
“Hey,” she countered as she slipped an arm around his shoulders, “I didn’t fall because of the shoes. I fell because the floor was wet. And that means I am not paying for a trip to the emergency room here at your prestigious Mount Sinai.”
“I’m not taking you to the ER.”
“You’re not?”
“Do you really think I want you making a scene in there?”
“Excellent point. You’re quite clever, Dr. Hart.”
“May as well call me ‘Evan,’” he begrudgingly said.
“Not ‘Ev’?” she teased in her sultry, soul-stirring voice. “I am in your arms, after all.”
He scowled, doing everything in his power to keep his hormones on an even keel and his pulse from shooting off the charts with this woman. Especially with her in his arms.
Still, he said, “You realize you crawl under the skin, don’t you?”
“In a good way, right?” She gazed at him and added, “I mean, you did agree to have dinner with me.”
“You were going to sue the hospital.”
“Oh, you agreed before that. Admit it.”
The woman made his head spin. They reached the glass doors to his office area, and he told her, “Take my badge from my coat pocket and swipe it over the reader. Then push the button to automatically open the doors.”
She did as instructed without argument or a flip comment—a total surprise. They passed through the doors and he carried her toward his office. His assistant jumped up from behind her desk and flashed her own card over the reader outside of Evan’s office, then pushed the door open for them.
“You must be Tanya,” Staci said. “So nice to meet you in person.”
“And you must be Miss Kay.”
“‘Staci’ is fine.” She shot Evan a look. “Or you could call me ‘Liz.’ It’s sort of a nickname.”
He glared at her. She snickered.
Staci said to the assistant, “For the record, I didn’t stage any sort of riot or an accident. Took a spill on a wet floor that wasn’t marked.”
“Oh, dear,” Tanya said as she rushed over to the minifridge and pulled out a bottle of water as Evan carefully carried Staci inside his office and set her on the sofa. Tanya handed over the bottle.
“Thanks.” Staci smiled. To Evan, she said, “And thank you for not dropping me. My ass is still smarting.”
Evan bit back a groan. The last thing he needed her drawing his attention to was her ass. He knew exactly how it felt in his hands as he slid into her heat and wetness.
The feel of her shapely body cradled against his was now burned into him, but it couldn’t compete with knowing how she felt naked and writhing beneath him. The tantalizing sensations of her fingers and lips teasing his skin. Her hand fisting his cock and pumping slowly…
Shit.
There he went again. Getting caught up in thoughts of her, drowning in lust the way he had that night.
Evan had to put some space between them while he got his bearings. He went to his desk and grabbed his medical bag. He said to Tanya, “Please let Dr. Morrow know I’ll be late to our meeting.”
“Of course.” The assistant left the room, closing the door behind her.
Evan fought the sense of foreboding encroaching on him. For one thing, Morrow would have a field day over Evan missing a staff meeting. One which Evan was to lead as head of the department. Morrow would fill in for him—and would no doubt mention the fiery redhead stalking Evan.
He could take the ribbing, no worries there.
Except that—point number two—said fiery redhead turned Evan on way too much.
She asked, “So why are you pretending you don’t recognize me from the hotel hallway?”
His brow jerked up. “The hallway?”
“Fine. Naked in your hotel suite. How’s that?”
He raked a hand through his hair.
“That is where we first met, yes?” she challenged.
Evan let out a low growl. “That’s not something I want to think about or discuss.” Especially not in his office, his professional workspace.
“Why are you so annoyed with me?” she suddenly demanded. “You sure as hell weren’t like this at the Four Seasons.”
“That night was…different for me.”
“How? Why? I’m dying to know.” Her gaze narrowed. “Are you bipolar? Because I could probably work with that as opposed to this recent animosity.”
Evan’s teeth ground. “I am not bipolar.”
“Then what’s with all the hot and cold?”
He fought the grimace. Point-blank told her, “I’m finding it incredibly irritating that I let my dick and whatever I was feeling for you that evening override my sensibility.”