When Staci Takes Charge

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When Staci Takes Charge Page 12

by Calista Fox


  “But you like that about me.”

  His head lifted. He grinned at her. A lazy grin that made her stomach flip. “I like many, many things about you, Miss Kay.” He unraveled from her and pushed himself off the sofa.

  “Then why are you leaving me?”

  He shot a look at her over one broad shoulder. She pouted for him.

  He chuckled. “The butler’s going to walk in on us if we don’t behave.”

  “Damn. Forgot all about him.”

  “So did I.” Evan consulted the time on the iPad. “We’ve still got a few minutes.”

  “Oh, goody. Round two.”

  He shook his head and told her in an amused tone, “Let’s not scare off the staff.”

  Still clothed, though the garments mostly hung open, he sauntered off toward the bathroom. Staci took in his tall, muscular build. The way he moved so stealthily.

  She was dying to see him naked again. And she told him so when he returned to the sofa with a robe for her.

  “Well, we did order a bath,” he replied. “And I’ll even massage your feet for you. Particularly your right heel.”

  Staci slipped into the hotel robe and tied it at her waist. She accepted the glass of champagne that Evan handed her and took a deep sip as they sat on the sofa. She had no idea what she looked like at the moment, and frankly, she didn’t give a damn.

  Her hair was probably in some wild, post-sex disarray. Her lip gloss was nonexistent. Hopefully her eye shadow hadn’t smudged.

  The only thing she was sure of was that she wore a very satisfied grin on her face.

  She said, “Perhaps I should have saved us both the time and angst and offered hot monkey sex in my very first email to you.”

  He grinned. “That would have been interesting. I don’t get that sort of fan mail.”

  “Dump that mug shot of yours, have one taken looking the way you did this evening, and women will be beating down your door.” She frowned. “On second, thought, there’s no need for that. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.”

  Evan swept a few wayward strands of hair from her face as she curled beside him, her legs tucked under her. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m no playboy surgeon.”

  “Which is really sort of shocking, because you have some sinfully delicious moves, Ev.”

  He let out a playful groan. “You’re sticking with that nickname?”

  “Mm…yes. Since you did mention that no one else is allowed to call you that.”

  “My mistake,” he grumbled.

  She snuggled a little closer and whispered in his ear, “Is it really so awful?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then. Stop being so obstinate.”

  “You like that I’m obstinate.”

  “True.”

  Evan refreshed their drinks just as the butler arrived. He went to work in the bathroom. Sometime later, he came into the sitting room and asked if he could move the champagne chiller into the bathroom for them.

  Staci assented. Then she relieved him of his duties for the rest of the evening.

  “It’s sort of fun to have a butler again,” she mused as she stood and stretched.

  “Again?”

  “Sure. We have tons of house staff at the family estate.”

  “And where is this family estate located?”

  “Beverly Hills.”

  His brow crooked. “You grew up in Beverly Hills?”

  “Yes. My first shoe-shopping excursion was on Rodeo Drive. I was hooked from the beginning.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” He swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.

  “What have I said about your judging?” she teased. “And for the record, I might be a shoe connoisseur, but I am not a shoe snob. At least, not anymore.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I now appreciate shoes for their beauty as much as for their value. When I was younger, I tended to collect whatever was most expensive. Then, as I was packing for college, it suddenly dawned on me that I had an entire room devoted to shoes—and there were a number of them that I’d never even taken out of the box.”

  “I’m sorry,” he interjected. “Did you just say you had an entire room devoted to shoes?”

  “Well, not just shoes…Handbags and scarves, too.”

  He laughed. Or snickered. It was tough to tell because he was clearly trying not to offend her.

  Staci said, “Anyway, I also had styles that only went with one outfit. It was incredibly wasteful. So, feeling a surge of guilt, I donated half of them and put the other half on eBay for absurdly low prices. I made enough to invest in some stocks that helped me to fund my first warehouse and operations when I was ready to start my business.”

  “Interesting. And resourceful.”

  They entered the bathroom.

  Staci gaped. Her heart launched into her throat.

  There were lit votive candles everywhere. White and red rose petals were carefully scattered over the long marble vanity, the floor, and the tub…which was filled with fragrant bubbles.

  Her fingers pressed to her lips as emotion welled within her.

  Evan set her gently on her feet. It took Staci a few moments to collect herself as her gaze swept through the room.

  Then it landed on Evan. “You asked the butler to do this, didn’t you?”

  “You like it?”

  She swallowed down a hard lump in her throat. The backs of her eyes burned for irrational reasons. Staci wasn’t the sappy sort, but damn if she wasn’t feeling a tug on her own heartstrings right this very minute.

  “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” she told him.

  Evan’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be true. They’re just candles, sweetheart. Some mutilated flowers. Bubbles.”

  She let out a strangled laugh at his attempt to be lighthearted. “It’s absolutely beautiful. More than that…it’s the thought behind the gesture.”

  Oh, crap. Serious waterworks threatened her eyes.

  What the hell?

  Staci wasn’t one to get choked up so easily.

  Then again…she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.

  Evan reached for the sash at her waist and untied it. He said, “I find it very difficult to believe that—”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you?”

  The furrow of his brow deepened.

  “It’s true,” she said. “I gave up a scholarship to UCLA to follow a boyfriend to the University of Baltimore. He dumped me less than a month into our first semester—for his English professor. She was thirty-two. He was eighteen. The school released her for misconduct with a student on campus. He dropped out and moved back to L.A. With her.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Yes, actually. It just took me much too long to realize how toxic he was.”

  “Did you stay in Maryland because he was in L.A.?”

  She nodded.

  “And since him…?”

  She shook her head.

  “No one?”

  “Well,” she said as she slipped out of the robe. “Not no one. I’ve dated. Mostly it’s been business related. You know, bringing along a date so I don’t look too pathetic.”

  “Staci.” He cupped the side of her face with his hand and stared deep into her eyes. “You could never be pathetic. You got your heart stomped on at a young age, and you probably haven’t been looking to have it happen again.”

  “That was nearly ten years ago, Evan. How long should I hold the grudge against romance?”

  His head dipped, and he kissed her sweetly, softly. Then said, “I think you’ve let it go.”

  Her eyes searched his. What Staci saw was something raw and real. Something honest and engaging.

  “You don’t spew a lot of bullshit, do you?” she asked.

  “That’s not exactly how I’d phrase it, but…no. I don’t spew any. What would be the point?”

&nbs
p; “Exactly.”

  They continued to stare at each other. She worked down another knot of emotion in her throat.

  Then she told him, “I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy.”

  “I’m not. If you would have given up after one email or a couple of calls…” One corner of his mouth lifted. “We wouldn’t be standing here right this very minute.”

  “I like this very minute. It’s not one I’ll ever forget.”

  He kissed her again. Staci’s arms wound around his neck, and he hauled her up against him, crushing her to his hunky body. Her breasts melded to his hard chest.

  Evan deepened the kiss, putting plenty of feeling behind it that resonated within Staci. Ribboned around her heart. Seeped into her soul.

  When he finally released her, he said, “I promised you a foot massage. If we keep this up, I’m going cart you off to bed instead.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem.”

  He turned her around and said, “Climb in.”

  She did, and settled against the gentle slope of one end of the tub while watching Evan strip down. Her teeth captured her lower lip as she bit back a moan. He joined her, taking the opposite side of the tub. She said, “You are magnificent.”

  Evan reached for her right foot and gently rubbed her arch.

  Staci asked, “So what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Why are you still single?”

  “Because I work and travel all the time.”

  She gave this the consideration it was due before saying, “There has to have been someone—”

  “No.”

  “No?” His abrupt answer had taken her aback.

  “No.”

  “As in…never?”

  “I’ve dated. Scratched the itch from time to time, naturally,” he said in a nonchalant tone. “But I’ve never been interested in a relationship.” His gaze lifted from her foot to her face. “Until now.”

  More of the warm fuzzies she’d been feeling most of the evening engulfed her. But something disconcerting ate at her. “You’ve never been in love?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Evan.”

  He sighed. “No. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never gotten involved like that.”

  “Wow.” She reached for a crystal flute that had been set out for them and took a long sip. Then she said, “I’m shocked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because once you get over being gruff and obstinate, you’re really quite—”

  His brow jerked up.

  “Well, don’t be offended,” she huffed, “but you’re actually extremely romantic. I mean, come on, Evan. All of this,” she said as she made a sweeping gesture with the hand holding the champagne glass. “And the foot massage and carrying me and…You’re always making sure I’m steady on my feet.”

  “It’s the damn shoes,” he grumbled.

  She saw right through him, and it touched her heart. She knew he was feigning annoyance. “Liar. You have a sensitive side. But don’t worry.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “You’d better not. I get a lot of mileage out of being revered. If word gets around that I’m a softie because of some gorgeous redhead with legs that won’t quit and a smile that’s like a sucker punch to the gut…Jesus. It’ll be all over for me.”

  She laughed. “Wow. So dramatic. You must have sisters.”

  “No.”

  Staci sighed obnoxiously. “Here we go again. Okay, this is how getting to know each other works, Dr. Hart. I say something, ask a question, whatever. You give an answer that doesn’t involve just one syllable. See how easy that is?” She winked. “Now…any siblings?”

  “I am an only child.” He said this slowly, drawing out each word.

  Staci splashed him with her free hand. “Now who’s the smartass?”

  He chuckled.

  She continued her line of questioning. “Where did you grow up?”

  “You seriously didn’t read my CV before contacting me?”

  “Your…what…?”

  “Curriculum vitae.”

  She smirked. “What the hell is a curriculum vitae?”

  “Basically, it’s a résumé.”

  Another splash, this one loaded with bubbles. He sputtered.

  “You couldn’t just say résumé?” she demanded in a playful tone.

  “I prefer to tease you.”

  “Hmm.” She sipped some more, fighting the grin. Concentrated instead on how heavenly it felt to have him massaging her feet. She now fully understood what Maxi had been talking about a couple of weeks ago, when she’d mentioned Ryan doing the same.

  “Maybe,” she mused, “I ought to include some sort of bonus gift to my customers with X amount of shoes purchased. A free pedicure or foot massage at local salons or spas I could contract with. Or an in-home massager or foot bath.”

  “A nice touch. But, sweetheart, we will figure out a solution. Trust me, if there’s a way to minimize injuries, I’m happy to look into it.”

  “But you haven’t before,” she pointed out. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. Really, it was a good thing he was chest deep in bubbles. Otherwise, Staci would not be able to keep a single train of thought that didn’t involve more earth-shattering orgasms.

  Not that it was easy to keep the notion from infiltrating her mind. He was damn sexy.

  She found it interesting that she’d been hot for him when he was the buttoned-up, arrogant surgeon. Now that he was disheveled and naked again…Good Lord. It was no wonder her pulse had never slowed this evening. Why her heart still beat just a bit too fast.

  Evan said, “I won’t say that it never crossed my mind. But the way my patients so adamantly refuse to take my advice and back off the height for the sake of fashion…The fact that they understand the damage they could be doing—or have done—to their feet, yet still reach for six-inch heels, pretty much tells me this is a difficult war to win.”

  “Not if we coalesce safety with style.” She tipped her glass toward him, pleased with her assessment.

  He grinned. “Coalesce?”

  “Sure. Bring the major components into one neat and tidy package.”

  “Oh-kay.”

  “Hey. Do not mock me and my choice of words.”

  “Never.”

  “Liar,” she said again.

  He laughed. Then asked, “How are your feet?”

  “Superb, thank you so very much. Now, sit back and enjoy some champagne.” She handed him the other glass.

  “This is a nice way to end the evening.”

  “End?” she scoffed, feeling the effects of the bubble bath, the champagne, Evan’s hands on her body, and the seductive glow of his beautiful blue irises. “Are you sure you don’t want to make me come a time or two more before we call it a night?”

  “Oh, I intend to do just that. Believe me.”

  The wicked glint in his eyes made her nipples tighten and her clit tingle.

  “Well, then. Lucky me,” she said.

  “No. Lucky me. Come here.”

  Staci shifted in the tub and settled between his legs, her back pressed to his chest.

  “This really is nice,” she said, all lit up once more as his heat and muscles surrounded her. “But I don’t get to look at your devastatingly handsome face.”

  “‘Devastatingly handsome?’”

  “Yep.”

  “What was the rule about one-syllable answers?”

  “Shall I coalesce more adjectives?”

  He laughed. Deep and hearty. “You have such a smart mouth.”

  They clinked rims. She told him, “Who cares whether I’m using that word correctly or not? You used curriculum vitae on me.”

  “You spoke fluent French to Jean Marquis.”

  “That’s to be expected. I have spent a lot of time in France, after all.”

  Evan was quiet a moment as he sipped his champagne. Then asked, “You like it
there?”

  “I love it there.”

  “Paris is supposed to be one of the most romantic cities in the world.”

  “No. It is the most romantic city in the world. But it’s still enjoyable for us singletons.”

  “And you like to travel?”

  “Definitely. In fact, I have to make up my mind by noon tomorrow whether I should spend a few days with my younger sister in Denver while she nurses a broken heart or try yet again to convince her to go on a cruise with my parents next week.”

  “Are you going with them?”

  “That’s my second decision to make. I’m not really a cruise aficionado. But my parents are great fun, so I’m willing to make the exception.”

  She briefly explained the crisis she’d just weathered with her company and told Evan she could use a little R & R.

  “I happen to be staying at the Four Seasons in Santa Barbara over the weekend,” he told her. “I have a speaking engagement at the university on Saturday. The resort has a fantastic spa that you could take advantage of. You could fly out with me on my jet Friday night.”

  “You have a jet?” It didn’t completely shock her—her father owned a Lear. Still…this was news.

  Evan said, “It’s a Gulfstream that I bought with three other surgeons. It’s currently at my disposal while I’m guest lecturing. I could have you back late Monday morning.”

  “That’s Valentine’s Day,” she mused. “The ship leaves from Fort Lauderdale in the afternoon. I could make it in time.”

  “Or…”

  Staci glanced over her shoulder. “Or, what?”

  “I guess I didn’t realize Monday was Valentine’s Day. I don’t exactly celebrate with the rest of the world.”

  “Neither do I. That’s why I always hang out with my sister or my parents on that day. It’s sort of a tradition.”

  “Oh. Well.” He reached for the bottle of Taittinger in the chiller alongside the tub and poured the remainder into their glasses.

  “What?” she inquired.

  “I wouldn’t want to interfere with a family tradition.”

  “Did you have a suggestion?”

  “If you’re interested in hearing it.”

  “Sure. Lay it on me.”

  And boy did he…

  “How about dinner in Paris on Valentine’s Day?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Staci shifted between his legs and turned to glare at him.

 

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