by Calista Fox
She glared, all signs of flippancy flying out the window. “That’s a shitty-ass thing to say.”
“You knew who I was. You staged the whole damn thing. Locked yourself out of your room, tugged on my heartstrings with your I’m-all-alone-with-no-one-to-admire-me-in-my-sexy-nightie, and then seduced me. Jesus. I can’t fucking believe I fell for that!”
She gaped. Clearly shocked.
But boy, did she come around fast.
“You are such an asshole!” she erupted. “First of all, I had no fucking clue who you were—didn’t even fully realize it until ten minutes ago. So dial down the ego about a million notches, Dr. Evan Hart. Second, I was locked out. Third, I wasn’t trying to tug heartstrings. Oh, my God, do you really have any? And finally—you propositioned me!”
He stared at her. His gut clenching. His groin tightening. His heart thundering.
Never had a woman sent him into sensory overload like she did.
She’d done it at the Four Seasons. Was doing it again now.
Evan rubbed his set jaw. Tried to get a grip on a situation that was spiraling out of control.
In the calmest tone he could muster, he said, “Tell me honestly that you didn’t know who I was that night. Because it is damn coincidental that we randomly met and then you started hounding me to speak with you about shoes.”
“Break out a Bible, Doc,” she said with an edge to her voice—and a tinge of something else. Hurt over his accusation? “I swear I had no idea. The coincidence was that you were apparently attending a conference at the same hotel where I’d planned a shoe show for my newest line. I was much too keyed up afterward to sleep and went for ice. My mind was clearly preoccupied, and I walked out without my key. Without flipping the security latch. That is the truth.”
She glared a bit longer. Her chest heaved, and it was a real bitch keeping his gaze from fixating on it. Except that her beautiful face did a good job of holding his attention. Especially the tawny eyes, as they misted.
“I was alone, okay?” she admitted. “On one of the most important nights of my life, I was alone. Everyone else I knew was snuggled under the covers with someone, but not me. So, yeah, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. That was no ploy. No ruse. I was really and truly…lonely.”
The corners of her mouth quivered, evoking all those feelings he’d experienced when he’d come across her in the hallway.
She gave a sharp shake of her head, as though to shake off her agitation and emotional turmoil.
Evan felt like hell.
Particularly when she quietly added, “So thank you very much for making me feel even worse right now.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Now his heart twisted. “Miss Kay…Liz…”
“Staci,” she ground out.
“Right. Staci.” He took a few moments to digest how her name rolled so easily off his tongue and caused his groin to tighten further. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to insult you or make you feel bad. Honestly, I’m not. I just find it so hard to believe that—”
“Well fucking believe it,” she simply said, as she crossed her arms over that enticing chest of hers.
Damn, the woman did things to him. Stirred emotions, made him hot, made him confess, “I liked your spunk at the hotel. As much as I liked your legs. I apologize for being an ass. I’m under a lot of pressure right now, but that’s no excuse. And I just…I don’t like games. I told you that when we met.”
“Then don’t play one with me. You were going to pretend you didn’t recognize me and send me on my way. That’s bullshit.”
“Yes.” He wouldn’t lie. “That is bullshit. But I thought you’d devised our initial meeting.”
“If that were the case, I would have asked for your help after you’d fucked me.”
He also folded his arms over his chest. “Instead you slipped out. Without a word. And no phone number.”
“I didn’t want you to know who I was because…I mean, come on. We had sex within five seconds of meeting each other. I don’t exactly need that on the street, especially with all the hoopla about my company at the hotel centered around my show.”
“I did find it absurdly ironic that there was a shoe convention during a podiatry conference.”
“It wasn’t a convention,” she corrected. “It was the launch of my new line. Totally different. And a very big deal.”
Her sass was returning. Good. Because he didn’t like that he’d hurt her feelings.
He asked, “Can we please just start all over again? I will concede I’ve been a prick. I’ll apologize in writing, if need be. But I’d prefer to get back to our original discussion. And take a peek at your ankles after that little spill you took.”
She stared at him for endless seconds. Evan actually held his breath, wondering if she was going to rail at him some more…or accept his olive branch.
Eventually, Staci caved. “So, if I let you inspect my body parts, are you going to chastise me for my choice in footwear?”
“Of course,” he quipped. Though his jaw clenched. Even casual flirtation sent the blood straight to his cock.
If this were an official exam—and damn, he ought to consider it one since she’d fallen on hospital property—he’d have a member of his staff look after her. Because Evan didn’t mess around with his business or his specialty.
And a mere glance Staci’s way told him he was doing both right now.
He honestly couldn’t escape the fact that she did crazy, wicked things to him. Things that he would never have imagined he’d encounter in the workplace.
Sure, he’d treated plenty of attractive women over the course of his career. But none he’d found so tempting. None he’d been so inexplicably drawn to—hell, none he’d wanted to strip bare and thrust into until she screamed his name in pleasure.
Again.
Christ. What was happening to him?
Focus, man.
He returned to the sofa and took the bottle from her, twisting off the cap. He overturned a freshly washed tumbler from the silver tray on the end table and poured some water into it. Then handed her the glass.
“That was quite gentlemanly,” she commented, sounding surprised. “In fact, carrying me in here was pretty gallant as well.”
“You thought I was some sort of ogre?”
“Not thought, as in past tense,” she pointedly said with a grin. “The jury’s still deliberating. But I suspect the scales just might tip in your favor. If you stop harassing me about my shoes.”
“But that’s my job,” he reminded her.
Staci sighed. “Fine. Examine me at will.”
Oh, God. Like he needed that sort of carte blanche with this woman!
He knelt before her and performed a very thorough exam of Staci’s sculpted ankles, her fine-boned feet, her perfectly manicured toes.
In his head, Evan did everything in his power to concentrate on all of the medical terminology, the nuances of a physical inspection, the importance of determining if there were any visible signs of stress fractures, skin discoloration, inflammation, or other trauma to her feet, not only from her fall, but due to her obvious love of wearing stilettos.
He also did everything in his power not to notice—or remember—how silky her skin was, how smooth. How femininely toned her muscles were. How desperately he wanted to sweep his hand up her calf to the back side of her knee and caress the sensitive erogenous zone. Just to elicit an erotic sound from her.
A small whimper. A throaty moan. A sexy sigh.
All of which had pushed him to the edge that night they’d spent together.
Evan’s cock twitched. He frowned.
“What?” Staci asked, a bit panicked. “Something wrong?”
“Not exactly.” He mentally shook his head, trying to dislodge all of the inappropriate thoughts flooding his mind.
What was it about this woman that had him careening so off course? Why did she inspire all of these lascivious thoughts that had never once popped into his head during an
exam?
Evan fought for a little more self-control. He was in his element here. This was what he did for a living. He was one hundred percent dedicated to his profession, an expert in his field—and he was damn fucking good at what he did. At the top of his game, and no one could dispute it.
So why was he so wrapped up in how Staci smelled, how soft her skin was, how she flinched just so when his fingers grazed the arch of her foot?
And there it is…
Her arch.
Now he was onto something.
Something to concentrate on other than everything about her that infiltrated his senses and left him reeling.
He probed more, not saying a word. He tested the range of motion, flexibility, and sensitivity of both feet.
He tenderly pressed his fingers and thumb against her heels. Then he glanced up at her, being particularly careful to shift his gaze from the ankle he held gingerly in his hand to her face…bypassing all the temptation in between.
“So?” she asked in a tentative voice.
Evan’s brow furrowed. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Any sort of pain you’re experiencing, long-term ailments…anything at all that, were I your regular doctor, I’d find in your medical records?”
“Hmm…” She pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “Nope.”
“Not a single thing?”
The corners of that luscious mouth of hers turned down slightly.
He said, “Staci, this is crucial. I’m not going to judge. Just tell me straight.”
She gave him a sarcastic look. “You’re not going to judge? Please, Evan, I—”
“Wait.” He held up a hand to stop her. First, he had to get past the jolt he received low in his gut when she called him “Evan.” Not “Nick.” Then he had to shift his brain from all thoughts of their intimate relationship and concentrate on this professional aspect, and he needed her to do the same. “Let’s just put aside all of the tension between us because of our individual beliefs—and what happened at the Four Seasons. Tell me honestly what you’re feeling.”
She gnawed her lower lip. An alluring gesture that he tried to ignore.
Then she told him, “This is one of the things I’d like to discuss in detail with you tonight at dinner. When you’re not all lab-coat-wearing, furrowed-brow judgmental. Because even though you say you’re not judging right now, Evan…you are.”
He gently returned her foot to the floor and took the chair opposite her, clasping his hands together and letting them dangle between his parted thighs. “I apologize again if I’ve been—”
“An ass?” she finished for him.
He smirked. “You just love that word, don’t you?”
“Actually, I put you in the pompous ass category a while back. I’m letting you slide right now.”
“How very thoughtful.”
She smiled graciously, luminously.
Was she warming up to him?
Did it matter?
Evan was a singularly focused man who didn’t get caught up in all the extracurriculars—such as complicated relationships and messy scenarios like this. He’d learned from a young age the dangers inherent to both.
When you grew up the only “accidental” son of a rocket-scientist-level genius mother who’d never married and who knew absolutely nothing about raising children or even dealing on a regular basis with human beings rather than lab animals, your life was not ever going to be normal.
So Evan didn’t strive for normal. He strove for successful. Universally helpful.
Hence his expanded work in prosthetics.
But that was neither here nor there at the moment. He repeated, “Anything you care to share with me, Staci?”
She crossed her legs and gave him a look that demonstrated her own probing—centered on whether or not she could trust him.
Then she ventured into what she clearly considered risky territory with a reticent, “Sooo, my arches ache from time to time.”
“Hmm.”
Her brow jumped. “Hmm?”
“Continue.”
She shrugged. “That’s pretty much it.”
Evan considered the exam he’d given her and said, “You don’t suffer from the standard ill effects of women who spend a bit too much time in high heels. No bunions, corns, or visible signs of stress. In fact, you have impeccable grooming habits and clearly put extensive effort into caring for your feet. Regular pedicures?”
“That’s basically the female equivalent to men making weekly pilgrimages to the golf course.”
“Indeed. Any tingling?”
“In my feet?” she asked. Then she sucked in her cheeks and stared up at the ceiling, as though trying to cover a massive faux pas she didn’t want him to—
Evan shot to his own feet. He crossed to his desk and paced behind it, needing even more space between the two of them. He raked a hand through his hair in what could only be described as sexual agitation.
This was all spiraling out of control. But he kept his cool as he simply said, “Yes, in your feet.”
Staci gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
He pinned her with a look.
She sighed. “Sometimes along the outside,” she confessed. “But nothing I’d consider painful or even distracting. I only notice it from time to time.”
He asked, “How long have you been wearing high heels?”
“Really, Evan?” She stood abruptly.
“Hey,” he countered, “sit still until I deem it okay for you to stand.”
“I don’t need you to deem when it’s okay for me to stand,” she insisted. “I’m not a dog, Evan. And I’m telling you straight out that my ankles, my feet, my toes…They’re fine. Do they ache on occasion because of my shoes? Sure. I won’t lie. It’s to be expected. Maybe if I had someone in my life who was more interested in massaging my feet than probing and examining them, they might not hurt so much. But whatever. I’m not here for me right now or today or for the past week.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Then why are you here?”
Clearly exasperated, Staci said, “I’m here for women who actually do feel the stress of wearing the shoes they love—that they buy from my company. And goddamn it, I’m not going to get into all of this right now with you, in your office, on your turf, when you’re feeling high and mighty because you’re treating me for some stupid accident that wasn’t even my fault.”
She stepped into her heels and scooped up her clutch. “If you don’t show up at Jean Marquis at eight o’clock this evening, Dr. Evan Hart, so help me God, I will call my lawyer.”
Evan made it to the door at the same time Staci did. He pressed his hand to the wood just as she tugged on the handle. The door didn’t give.
“Damn it, Evan,” she huffed.
He propped a bent arm against the door to keep it closed.
“Just calm down a little,” he told her in a quiet voice. “You go storming out of here and hit that tile floor again and you’ll—”
“I’ll pay for the trip to the ER this time. Someone else can examine me.”
“I don’t want anyone else examining you,” he all but growled
Christ. That didn’t come out right.
She glared at him. “What do you want?”
“I just meant…I don’t want you to hurt yourself and need to be examined again.” He shook his head. “That’s not the only thing I meant by that comment.”
Her glare softened to a seductive glow that completely did him in. They stood so close to each other that her shoulder grazed his arm and her chest brushed ever so slightly against his. Evan not only inhaled her enticing scent, but felt her all around him. Deep inside. Straight to his soul.
If she moved just an inch closer, her breasts would nestle below the ledge of his pecs. He knew exactly how that felt, and longed to feel it again. He yearned to wrap his arm around her narrow waist, haul her up against him, and kiss her senseless.
The urge was so strong, so overwhelming
, it was a wonder he didn’t follow through.
She asked in an equally quiet voice, “Are you coming on to me, Dr. Hart?”
“No,” he corrected her. “Evan is coming on to you.”
“Which is the one who’s been avoiding me for a week and making me chase him from coast to coast?”
“Both. As a podiatric surgeon, I have no interest in debating the merits of stilettos versus the hazards. As a man, I find you too tempting by far. From the moment I saw you in the hallway.”
“Oh…” That one word fell from her glossy lips on a soft sigh.
“I have a lot of respect for your persistence,” he confessed. “Whatever the hell your cause is, I admire how dedicated you are to it. How tenacious you are. Even if you are a bit on the feisty side.”
“Just a bit?” she challenged with an arched brow.
He grinned. “Okay, a lot.”
Her fingers skimmed over the lapel of his lab coat as she said, “You’re incredibly infuriating, Dr. Hart. But Evan is seriously sexy.”
His grin faded. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before. I mean the latter part.”
“Yeah, I caught on to your meaning pretty quick. I’m sure you piss off a lot of people.”
“You really do have a smart mouth.”
“And I suspect that the reason you don’t hear you’re sexy is because all of the women you speak to are more engrossed in what you have to say about podiatry than how you actually say it.”
His brow knitted. “Was there a compliment somewhere in that convoluted statement?”
“You have an unbelievably arousing voice. But I might be the only one who really hears it because everything that comes out of your mouth when you’re in surgeon mode goes completely over my head. So I’m particularly sensitive to the warm timbre, the measured cadence that intensifies just so when you’re trying to drive home a particular point…All that.”
“Fascinating.”
“Very much so.”
Their gazes locked.
She said, “Those women also don’t get to see you the way I saw you at the hotel. As…Nick.”
“I told you then and I’ll tell you now, that was all you. From the very second I opened my door.”