by Calista Fox
Her gaze didn’t waver. Her eyes shimmered with desire. He’d swear he could hear her heart pounding erratically, but it was likely just his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.
Evan was instantly trapped in a moment that held incredible intensity and heat. Like the first time he’d met her.
She said, “Now would be an acceptable time to kiss me, Evan.”
“I want to do more than just kiss you, Staci. And you know it.”
The smile tugged at her lips again. Another soft quiver at the corners, which turned him on even more. His cock strained against the zipper of his pants, and his pulse spiked.
“You’re full of surprises,” she said.
“You give all-new meaning to the term temptress.”
“Whomever determined that opposites attract is a complete genius.”
“Completely,” he gently mocked. Then he dipped his head.
The anticipation of kissing her rushed through him, riding a surge of adrenaline. His lips were just about to meet hers when—
“Dr. Hart?” Tanya called out as she knocked on the door. A second later, the electronic reader beeped as she apparently flashed her badge over it.
“Ah, Jesus,” Evan grumbled as he dropped his arm and stepped away.
Staci moved to the side just as the door flew open.
“Oh!” Tanya pulled up short. “You’re right here, Miss Kay. Getting ready to leave. Perfect timing.”
“For?” Staci cautiously inquired, her tone tinged with lust, though Evan was certain only he heard it because Tanya hurriedly explained the reason for the intrusion without batting an eye.
“Paperwork. Here are the claims forms, in the event you choose to file against the hospital for your accident.” She handed over one packet. Then added, “Or, if you waive your right to hold the hospital responsible for your injury, you’ll need to complete these forms.”
“She doesn’t have an injury related to her fall,” Evan insisted, irrationally enraged by the interruption. It certainly wasn’t Tanya’s fault that it’d taken him so goddamn long to make his move on Staci. But he’d been locked in the anticipation of kissing her and hadn’t quite been ready to be released from it.
“Actually,” Staci said as she snatched the paperwork from Tanya’s hand, “we haven’t fully determined if I have an injury to collect on. My butt is still pretty sore.”
Evan shot her a sardonic look. She gave a noncommittal shrug of one shoulder. “My decision to sue all hinges on whether Dr. Hart stands me up this evening.”
She winked at him, then breezed out of the office.
Evan stared after her, admiring those long legs of hers—before catching the slight limp on her right side that she seemed to try to hide, if the stiffness of her body was any indication.
Damn it.
Here was where it was all about to fall apart for him.
Evan wondered how long she’d suffered from plantar fasciitis in her right heel.
And he wondered how he was going to treat it without falling in love with her.
The Stiletto Goddess.
Shit.
Chapter Ten
Staci checked in to the Plaza Hotel and allowed the butler to unpack her suitcase. She had no idea how long she’d be in New York—especially considering how difficult it’d been from the onset to connect with Evan—so she’d stashed away a week’s worth of clothing and amenities in her Rollaboard.
She stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom with the gorgeous twenty-four-karat gold plated fixtures and accents and took a long, hot shower that neither warmed her insides the way Evan’s hands on her body had nor washed away the feel of those hands.
The memory of his long fingers gliding over her skin—confidently, yet tenderly—would likely be forever ingrained in her brain. His searing touch and smoldering gaze would no doubt stay with her until the end of time as well.
Good Lord, the man was a blazing inferno even behind those glasses and that lab coat. Every time she was with him, she felt his virility and burning passion as though they were living, breathing, tangible entities.
And, God, how she’d wanted him to kiss her again!
Lust roared through her at the thought of Evan so close, so intense. His head lowering, his lips just a breath away from hers…
Then Tanya had interrupted.
A total bummer because Staci had wanted to feel Evan’s lips on hers.
Not Nick’s lips but Evan’s.
Dr. Evan Hart.
The pompous ass.
She smiled.
Then mentally contended that it was probably a good thing they’d been interrupted before his mouth had met hers. Staci was pretty damn sure the afternoon would not have ended with just a kiss.
As hot as she was for the sexy surgeon—and he was very obviously equally aroused by her—chances were very good she would have yanked off his lab coat, tie, and glasses, ripped open his shirt, shoved him down on the sofa, and climbed all over that hunky body of his.
So not a good idea.
The ball was finally in her court when it came to this man. She was in control now.
Well, aside from the fact that she was absurdly attracted to him. That was something she needed to tuck away and not think of again.
Dinner that night would be her chance to impress upon him the importance of her new corporate direction. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by everything that had happened today at the hospital. Couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by the way him carrying her into his office had triggered the memory of him carrying her into the hotel bedroom that fateful night, before they’d slipped under the covers and his hard, naked body had curled around hers.
Oh, those strong arms holding her tight…
She let out a sigh of delirium.
And yes, his hands on her were equally stimulating. His touch had burned her skin like a territorial branding. His intensity had vibrated within her.
When all was said and done, Staci had traveled the path of lust with him at the hotel—and had almost done the same thing this afternoon.
But that was not where her focus should be.
She’d scored time alone with him. She had to get her act together, pull herself from this bizarre sexual fog, and get down to business.
So she stepped out of the shower, did her makeup and hair, and slipped into a one-shouldered, sapphire-colored dress that clung to every curve she possessed. Then she added a pair of black leather pumps she thought Evan might appreciate at a minimal four inches.
She summoned her butler, who contacted the valet to bring a house limo around while Staci made a quick call to cash in a favor.
Then she grabbed her overcoat and slim laptop bag, which was loaded with all the Staci Kay focus group results she’d printed out. She took the elevator to the marbled reception area and practically sashayed through the hotel to the entrance, pushed through the revolving door, and descended the red-carpeted stairs to the car.
Despite the fact that Jean Marquis was just two blocks away, with a sensational view of Central Park, Staci elected not to brave the wintry sidewalks in pumps. The last thing she needed was to slip and slide again, and give Dr. Hart the satisfaction of the ball bouncing right back into his court.
She settled into the limo, and it pulled away from the curb. Staci had a concrete plan in mind for the evening. She’d dispel the theory that stilettos were the devil’s work and make a plea for Evan’s help.
Hopefully she could be eloquent about it. Not all breathy and melting at his feet.
But chances were good that was exactly what would happen.
* * *
Evan arrived at Jean Marquis promptly at eight. He wound his way through the multitude of people waiting for a table and approached the hostess podium. A statuesque brunette greeted him with a tight smile. Over the din, he asked, “Has Miss Kay checked in yet?”
The woman consulted the reservations and gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t have anyone down under that name.”
“Staci Kay,” he elaborated. “Party of two.”
“No, sorry.” She looked around him to the patrons next in line.
Evan said, “From Staci Kay Shoes. No reservation whatsoever?”
“Oh, my God! That Staci Kay! I love her shoes!” the hostess exclaimed, her frigid smile turning bright and downright ecstatic. “I’m wearing my favorite peekaboos tonight. Is she actually here with you?”
“Not at present,” he said. “The reservation might be under Dr. Evan Hart.”
She scanned again, then told him, “I’m afraid not. And we’re booked solid for the evening. Can I make you a reservation for late March?”
“That’s not necessary. Thank you for your time.”
Evan stepped aside.
So much for dinner at Jean Marquis. Or with Staci Kay.
Admittedly, he was severely disappointed to not be seeing her this evening.
Evan had been monumentally relieved to learn that their middle-of-the-night hallway encounter truly had been coincidental. Nothing she’d planned or contrived. An act of kismet or destiny or whatever sort of cosmic force had felt compelled to throw them together.
Though said force was keeping them apart right now.
What the hell was up with that?
But who was standing up whom tonight?
He milled about for a few more minutes to see if she was trapped in some conglomeration of people hoping for a table. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had groupies. The hostess had certainly warmed up substantially at the mention of Staci’s name.
Yes, the fiery redhead possessed an abundance of magnetism. Spirited charisma that screamed trouble for a man like him, yet here he was, waiting on her.
Dr. Evan Hart, who waited for no one.
Served him right, he suspected, for making her traipse across the country.
Well, he hadn’t made her travel far and wide to catch up with him. Though he hadn’t made it easy on her, either.
So…what? Now she was going to teach him a little lesson by leaving him in the lurch this evening?
Women.
This was one of the reasons he didn’t date. Evan didn’t have a high tolerance for waiting around or being in the dark about people’s true intentions.
Conversely, he was willing to wait all damn night for Staci Kay to show.
What a sap he’d instantly become.
He grinned. Really, he didn’t mind if she was going out of her way to make him batty. Just as long as she showed up eventually. Because he was dying to be with her again. And this time, he’d finish what he’d started in his office. He’d claim that sassy mouth of hers and—
His cell rang. Evan whipped it out of his pocket and connected the call, efficiently saying, “Dr. Hart speaking.”
“I’m calling for Evan.”
Staci’s sultry voice filled the line. His groin tightened.
“You’ve reached him. I assume you’re running late.”
“Oh, heavens, no,” she said. “I’m not one of those types. I’m always on time. Or a few minutes early. Whatever.”
“Then where are you? Because I’ve already circled this crowd and you’re nowhere to be found.”
“I’m in the bar with Jean Marquis. Come join us. We’re sharing a fabulous Bordeaux from his private wine cellar.”
“Of course you are.” Evan wasn’t even surprised. He chuckled and said, “I’m on my way.”
He hung up and wove through the throng toward the west wing of the restaurant, where the bar was tucked away. There were sofas and high tops with upholstered stools scattered about, but he quickly located Staci at the end of the rich mahogany bar, leaning in close to hear what the gentleman next to her—executive chef and famed restaurateur Jean Marquis himself—had to say.
She laughed vibrantly at whatever comment he made. Evan shook his head. Was there anyone on the planet the woman couldn’t win over?
As he eyed her while approaching their secluded corner, he quickly decided there was likely no man on the planet whom Staci Kay couldn’t win over.
Dr. Evan Hart included.
She was beyond stunning—even more so this evening, wearing a clingy blue dress that fit her sinfully well and which was gathered over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. Her usually sleek auburn hair was voluminous tonight, her long bangs provocatively flipped over to one side. The shiny strands curved in at her high cheekbones, then cascaded away to blend into the curls at the ends, which fell to the tops of her breasts.
His gaze lingered on her chest. Her very ample, enticing chest. Eventually, his gaze swept lower to the dip of her waist, the gentle rounding of her hips, and then those gorgeous legs he couldn’t get enough of. The dress ended midcalf, but the tight material was split up the left side, revealing a healthy amount of thigh.
Evan felt the hard-on return.
She was so natural and simple in the most dynamic way. It was truly difficult for him to reconcile how attractive and alluring she was, not overly adorned nor appearing as though she put a huge amount of effort into looking as sensational as she did.
She wore a diamond tennis bracelet on one wrist. A large, glittery ring on the middle finger of her other hand. Slim, elongated silver hoops in her ears.
Her tawny eyes were accented with smoky eye shadow, as seemed to be her custom, and her lashes were long, thick, and jet-black. Her lips were glossy and slightly parted as she caught sight of him, as though she’d just let out a long breath.
“Wow,” she said as he descended upon her. “You look…different.”
Evan had opted to wear contact lenses for the date, in lieu of his glasses. He had on a black suit with a charcoal shirt unbuttoned at the neck.
He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, resisting the urge to reach for her. “And you look spectacular. Like a million bucks.”
“Oh, this old thing,” she quipped as she swept a hand through the air, gesturing at the dress.
“It’s fantastic.”
She beamed. “I have to say, you look quite dashing yourself. This whole new look you’ve got going on…” Her manicured index finger swooped in a circular motion to indicate his entire presence. “So not what I expected.”
And if Evan wasn’t mistaken, she definitely liked what she saw.
“Let me introduce you to Jean Marquis. Jean,” she said to the tall, dark-haired Frenchman at her side, “this is the very brilliant Dr. Evan Hart. He’s a revered podiatric surgeon who’s going to help me revolutionize woman’s shoes if I ask him really, really nicely.”
Evan grinned again. She was a bit tipsy. He caught the tinge of rose in her cheeks, and the extra sparkle in her eyes.
Jean extended his hand to Evan, and said in a thick accent, “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Hart. You do realize no one ever says no to Staci Kay?”
“I began to suspect that after her third or fourth phone call to my office. And the honor is mine—your reputation can’t be beat, from what I hear.” They shook.
“Oh, look!” Staci said. “Dr. Hart is playing nice.” She clapped her hands enthusiastically.
Evan smirked, then leaned in to kiss her on the cheek—he honestly couldn’t resist. He whispered in her ear, “You’re a smartass.”
“There’s that word again.”
“How is your backside, by the way?”
“Now that’s an interesting question for one to pose,” Jean said with a laugh. “Were you a naughty girl, Stace? Did he have to spank you?”
“I fell at his office,” she said with a little snicker. “Mind out of the gutter, Jean. Dr. Hart and I have a strictly professional relationship. For the moment.” She winked.
Evan’s cock threatened to swell again. He wished like hell he’d buttoned his jacket.
He said, “I think I like you a little bit drunk. You’re not arguing with me.”
“You like that I argue with you,” she countered. “I bet very few people do, and you find it refreshing.”
“And damn sexy,�
�� he conceded.
Their gazes locked. Electricity seemed to arc between them.
“Well, that’s my cue to move along,” Jean said with another friendly laugh. “The sexual tension is too much for me. Kiss already. Enjoy the rest of this bottle of wine, and I’ll send over more with dinner.”
This confused Evan. He tore his gaze away—a bit of a challenge because Staci was her own mesmeric force. “Apparently, we’re lacking a reservation.”
“Stace doesn’t need a reservation,” Jean informed him. “I always keep a few tables free for when special friends pop by.”
Evan instantly wondered just how special a friend Staci was. And he felt a flash of possessiveness he’d never before experienced. He placed a hand along the back of her bar stool to mark his territory.
She must have read the question in his eyes because she immediately said, “Jean and I have known each other for ages. Since about birth, really. Our parents go way back. My sister and I would travel to France with my parents when we were younger and we’d all spend a month every summer touring the countryside and cities. Then Jean and his family would come to our home for New Year’s.”
“No one rings in the New Year like the Kays,” Jean told him. “But my time for reminiscing is over. I must relegate myself to the kitchen to prepare something extraordinary for the two of you.”
Jean shook hands with Evan again, then gave Staci double air-kisses to the cheeks. They had a quick exchange in French before the chef left them. The bartender cleared away Jean’s wineglass, brought a fresh one for Evan, and poured for him.
Evan slid into the stool Jean had just vacated and clinked rims with Staci.
“How convenient that you’re chummy with the most popular chef in Manhattan.”
“You took offense to him calling me a special friend.”
“Thanks for setting the record straight.”
“You have nothing to worry about with Jean Marquis.” She lowered her voice and said, “He’s gay.”
“Ah. Doesn’t that make me the rude American for staking my claim?”
“I think it’s hot.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Anyway, it comes in handy to know the right people. Unfortunately, I didn’t know anyone whose name I could drop to get in to see you.”