When Staci Takes Charge

by Calista Fox

  Actually glared at him.

  Evan asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

  She set aside her glass and got out of the tub. Evan was temporarily sidetracked as he took in every naked inch of her. She crossed to the glass-enclosed shower and rinsed off the bubbles. Then she reached for a towel and wrapped it around her, tucking the end into the valley between her breasts.

  He sighed. “You covered up a little too fast there, sweetheart. Next time, a few more moments for me to ogle you would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Evan.” The glare continued.

  Uh-oh. “Not Ev?”

  She planted a hand on her hip. “You want to have dinner with me in the most romantic city in the world on the most romantic night of the year?”

  “Dare I simply say…‘yes’?”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. He could tell she was fighting a grin or a smirk.

  “Come on, Staci. You’re surprised?”

  She gaped. Her eyes seemed to dance in their sockets. She didn’t appear to have a sassy answer to his question.

  So he stood and reached for the shower attachment hanging on the wall and rinsed off while she formed one.

  He stepped out of the tub and wound a towel around his waist.

  Since she still hadn’t found her voice, Evan said, “Let’s face a few facts here. We sparked at three a.m. in Baltimore. We sparked even when I thought you’d played me and you thought I was a pompous ass. Then today…tonight…right now…” He lifted his hands in the air and said, “There’s something serious happening between us, sweetheart. Can you deny it?”

  “I-I—” Her lips pressed together.

  He continued. “Neither of us has been interested in relationships and yet, you have to admit, we’re in one now. Am I wrong?”

  “I—Jesus.” She shook her head and shook out her hands, as though anxiety gripped her.

  Evan crossed to where she stood and gently clasped her upper arms to steady her. “We jumped in with both feet this evening, yes. But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  She gave another shake of her head.

  “So let’s do this, Staci. Let’s spend some serious time together. Go with me to Santa Barbara. Let me take you to Paris for dinner on Valentine’s Day. Let this be how we got our start. Our real start.”

  She kept staring at him, her jaw slack.

  “Staci.”

  Her mouth worked a little, as though she were trying to form words.

  “Baby,” he said. His hands moved to her face, cupping it. “Speak.”

  Not a peep.

  “Staci. Damn it…Breathe.”

  She sucked in a breath and then blurted, “Oh, my God!” Tears filled her eyes. “We’re having dinner in Paris on Valentine’s Day.”

  Evan grinned, monumentally relieved she didn’t pass out—and that she was clearly excited or moved by the plan.

  “So I’ll make all of the arrangements,” he told her in a low, unassuming voice, just so that he didn’t startle her or send her into shock. “But we’ll probably need Jean to help us with the dinner reservation.”

  “Le Jules Verne in the Eiffel Tower,” she said, still a bit breathy. “It’s an Alain Ducasse restaurant. Absolutely stunning views—the best views—of Paris. And the food is to die for. Only Jean could get us in.”

  “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to make that happen. I’ll wash dishes in Jean’s kitchen for a month if I have to.”

  “Evan…” Tears crested the rims of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, wetting his hands. He brushed them from her face.

  “Don’t make a joke, sweetheart,” he said. “Understand that I’m deadly serious about this.”

  Her head tilted to the side as she regarded him. “How did you know that I needed to make a joke?”

  “It’s what you do.” He kissed her. Then added, “And I really like it. Except…” He groaned. “You kind of broke my heart when you said this bathroom setup was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. Goddamn, Staci. You are…so incredible. You deserve the moon and the stars. And for some insane, inexplicable reason, I want to be the one to give them to you.”

  She let out a half laugh. “Was there a compliment somewhere in that convoluted statement?”

  Evan couldn’t help the guffaw. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s okay. Because I seriously cannot resist you.”

  He scooped her into his arms and took her to the bed. He placed her gently on the mattress and said, “Let me blow out the candles and drain the tub. Then I’m going to make love to you.”

  A few more fat teardrops fell. But she smiled through them. “You can still fuck me. We don’t have to go totally overboard in the romance area.”

  God, the woman was a dream come true. He bent toward her and kissed her. “You’re perfect.”

  “Hardly,” she scoffed.

  “Perfect for me.” What a surreal realization, especially since he’d been avoiding her for almost two weeks.

  When he returned to the bedroom, he found her snuggled under the thick down covers. He climbed in beside her and ran his fingers through her silky hair. Held her to him. She was naked. Precisely the way he preferred her.

  “I’m able to free up my schedule tomorrow,” he told her. “No surgeries or appointments. Can you stay an extra day in New York?”

  “Sure. I planned a whole wardrobe around you evading me.”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to upset your applecart. I understand you have a company to run.”

  “I’m fortunate to have incredible people who do their jobs and manage daily operations so that I can look to the future. However…” She curled against his side when he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. “If you happen to know someone who has a large warehouse or other industrial building for lease or for sale, I need a larger facility for manufacturing and distribution. Our sales have been astronomical with a recent ad campaign and the rollout of this new line of shoes.”

  “I’ll give it some thought. Make some calls.” He considered all of this, then said, “Really, Staci. It’s so impressive that you built that company from the ground up. I apologize again for being such a heel.”

  She laughed. “Ha, ha. Shoe humor. You’re very funny, Dr. Hart.”

  “Anyway, I thought you were trying to play up some of my recent articles, specifically on Regina Hines’s surgeries.”

  “Did you operate on her this morning?”

  “Yes. She had nerve damage.”

  “Will she be okay?”

  “Yes, she will.”

  “Because of you.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Like you, I have a good team.”

  Staci let out a half snort. “Oh, sure. Now you get all humble on me.”

  “Okay. I know what I’m doing. How’s that?”

  Her fingers skimmed over his chest. He was already hard and wanting her, but Evan also enjoyed holding her in his arms. This was yet another occurrence that was a bit unnatural for him, something he wasn’t accustomed to. But with Staci…

  This was nice. This felt right.

  Evan was content with the cuddling. And he did not gloss over the fact that this was something new they were both experiencing together.

  In fact, as he contemplated how satisfying it was to have her cozied up next to him, he didn’t mind in the least when her breathing turned heavy…and he realized she’d drifted off.

  * * *

  Staci woke to the sound of Evan’s voice speaking low into his phone. For a few moments, she simply remained huddled under the covers, listening to the rich undertones, cataloging every nuance. Her toes curled, and her stomach fluttered.

  All of this was new and exciting to her—and a touch scary. But she didn’t fixate on how out of her element she was. Whatever switch had been flipped yesterday at the hospital, she wanted to leave the light burning.

  This was sexy and exhilarating, and s
he didn’t want any negative thoughts to invade the bliss she’d literally stumbled upon when she’d pretty much fallen into Evan’s strong arms yesterday.

  It’d been a crazy two-week ride getting to this point. Staci had freed herself from her past pain last night when Evan had pulled her to him and she’d rested her head on his chest…and felt as though she’d found someplace she belonged.

  How wild that it turned out to be Dr. Hart—not just bad boy Nick—who electrified and excited her. But then again…maybe their respective professional passions had made them destined to hook up all along.

  Who knew how sexual chemistry and kismet worked?

  When Evan finished his call, she tossed back the covers and stretched. He glanced at her from where he sat at the desk.

  “Morning,” he said in his sensual tone.

  “Morning.” She took him in from head to toe, wearing nothing but his dress pants. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  He chuckled. Then he stood and crossed to the bed. He sprawled across the mattress, diagonal, his head at her stomach. He grazed his fingers over her bare skin.

  “And you are too tempting by far.” His eyes smoldered.

  Staci toyed with him. “Apparently not.” She feigned a pout. “You were going to make me come again last night.”

  “You fell asleep.”

  “Oh. Right.” She gnawed her lip in a flirty way, then said, “You could have woken me up.”

  “I liked you sleeping in my arms.”

  “Good answer.” She smiled. “And, in my defense, you did wear me out previously.”

  “Plus, there was all that champagne.”

  “And wine at the restaurant.”

  Evan said, “Speaking of restaurants…Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. How do you feel about breakfast in bed?”

  “I think it ranks right up there with all of your other brilliant ideas. I’ll get the iPad so we can look at the menu.” He slipped from the bed.

  “Evan,” she suddenly said. That curious emotional pull she’d been feeling so strongly of late came rushing back.

  “Yes?”

  “I just…I mean…” She laughed softly. “I’m such an idiot.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know how to say what I want to say.”

  Urgh. That was so lame.

  He gave her a dubious look. “You never lack for something to say, sweetheart.”

  Oh, God. There was that word again. The affectionate name no one had ever called her. The one she’d never considered she was missing out on hearing. Until now.

  When Evan said it, somehow it made her feel as though she was a part of something.

  She mentally shook her head. Did that make any sense at all? She didn’t know. Because Staci couldn’t put the right words, the right sentiment, to how she was feeling about their relationship.

  So she simply said, “I had a great time last night. Again.”

  He grinned. “I did, too. And all of the arrangements we talked about are made, though I figured you’d want to contact Jean personally about restaurant reservations. However, in the event we can’t get into Le Jules Verne, I’ve already spoken with the concierge at the Four Seasons in Paris, where we’ll be staying, about a backup plan. He can arrange a private dinner on a river boat on the Seine, one on the grounds of a Loire Valley palace or…on our balcony.”

  He wagged his brows. Staci laughed.

  “The latter is convenient for anything we might want to do after dinner,” she said.

  His smile was pure wicked. “Oui.”

  “Honestly, Evan. I don’t care where we have dinner. We could pack up charcuterie and wine and eat on the sidewalk outside the Louvre. The whole point is that we’re in Paris, on Valentine’s Day—together.”

  He nodded. “Point taken.” He returned to the bed and kissed her. Then said, “You never cease to boggle my mind. Thank you for being so goddamn persistent, Staci Kay.”

  “Always happy to push your buttons, Dr. Hart.”

  He gave a half snort. Then he went back to consulting the room service menu. They ordered just about everything on it and spent nearly two hours lounging and grazing. Eventually, they showered and stopped off at Evan’s apartment for him to change clothes.

  “Feel free to snoop,” he said before disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

  The entire floor he occupied was stylish, yet masculine. Clearly devoid of any feminine influence or props that would lure women into a false sense of security that Evan was looking for someone to share his space.

  This didn’t alarm her. The same, in gender reversal, could be said about Staci’s home in Baltimore.

  They really were two peas in a pod. Both hindered by something emotional in the past that left them focused solely on their careers.

  And, yet, here they were. Innately drawn to each other and actually willing to do something about it.

  While Evan changed, Staci placed a quick call to her sister to say she wouldn’t be able to make the cruise, but urged Jen to go. Jen told her she’d already made the reservation through their mother.

  Staci was relieved. It’d do Jen good to get out and about. Staci was seeing that quite clearly now, from her own perspective.

  Next, she texted Maxi to say she’d be out of the office a bit longer. And told her she’d be in Santa Barbara over the weekend and Paris on Monday with Dr. Snark—Maxi’s nickname for Evan, since Staci had chronicled her traipsing across the country via text as the adventure had unfolded. She had yet to tell her friend about the initial hookup. That was more of an in-person reveal.

  Staci’s phone rang five seconds after she hit the Send button for the text.

  “Oh, my fucking God!” Maxi exclaimed when Staci connected the call.

  “I know, right?”

  “On Valentine’s Day?”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  “I want details, sister. Spill!”

  “Can’t right now. I’m at his apartment. But I’ll call you back when I can.”

  “Don’t worry about anything at the office,” Maxi told her. “We’re kicking ass here. The only dark blot on the horizon is the facility we need. Other than that, we’re cranking out shoes!”

  “That is so good to hear. And thanks so much, Maxi. I’d never be able to step away from daily operations if it wasn’t for you.”

  “No need to thank me—it’s what you pay me for. But hey…did Dr. Snark agree to help you with the shoe improvements?”

  “Even before he fucked me.”

  “Oh, God! I so want details!”

  “We’ll talk later. All I can say at the moment is that, holy shit, this man is incredible.” She heard Evan bustling down the hallway. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  She stuffed the phone into her clutch just as Evan rounded the corner. He wore a sweater and jeans. Glasses. Still had the unruly hair that made flames dance over her skin.

  She smiled. “This is like sleeping with Clark Kent and Superman at the same time. I never know which one I’m going to get. It’s really very sexy.”

  “You’re sexy,” he said as he pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her. “This is some outfit you’re wearing.”

  “The boots are still under five inches, I swear.”

  “Thank you.”

  Staci had slipped into a retro, sixties-style black minidress with a black mock turtleneck, an ultra-short A-line skirt, and a white belt riding low on the hips. She complemented the outfit with thigh-high boots, the tops of which were made of thick black stocking that rested mid-thigh. Her full-length coat provided enough warmth that even the continuous snowfall didn’t bother her.

  She’d styled her hair into the sleek—though angled at the ends—look she typically wore and had pushed the long bangs back with a black headband. Large silver hoops completed the look.

  “So,” she said, “what exactly are our plans for the day?”

  “First up on our itinerary is a trip to
your Midtown store.”

  Staci shot him a confused look. “You want me to go shoe shopping?”

  He took her hand and led her back toward the foyer. “I want you to show me your shoe designs. I need to get a good look at them so I can start thinking of how I can help you.”

  She drew up short, emotion flaring within her again. “Evan.”

  “What?”

  “That’s so fucking awesome of you.”

  He laughed. “God, I love how colorful you are. Come on, let’s check out the Staci Kay line of stilettos so I can see just how in over my head I am.”

  “Hey,” she swatted at him in a flirty way. “No pretending you didn’t agree to this last night.”

  “I’m not reneging. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I feel like this is another great path for me to take.”

  “What other paths are you traveling?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.

  “Prosthetics. I have several ideas for improvements and have sketched them out, documenting them, but I haven’t reached the point yet where I’m ready for prototypes. That makes it difficult to keep up with the evolution of an ever-changing field, but then again…It’s not my area of expertise, so I suppose it’s more of hobby at the moment.”

  “Geez, Ev. That’s pretty incredible.” She kissed his cheek. “What is it about feet that made you decide on them as your specialty?”

  “Ah, shit,” he lightly grumbled.

  “What?” She linked her arm in his and gazed up at him. “Tell me. For real.”

  “Talk about the Clark Kent story. I was the water boy for the junior varsity football team. A self-imposed job, so that I could tell my mom I had practice every time she wanted me at the lab.”

  “The lab?”

  “She’s worked on numerous successful medications and vaccines, but is currently at the disposal of a privately funded organization studying Alzheimer’s and its potential cures.”

  “Wow. That’s impressive. Clearly overachieving runs in the family.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  They reached the ground floor and exited the elevator.

  As they walked through the large marble lobby of the building, Evan said, “I love her, don’t get me wrong. In fact, I worry incessantly about her because she can go for days without eating—totally forgets when she’s so wrapped up in her equations and striving for positive outcomes. But the truth is, we never had a close relationship. Growing up with her in a huge house was sort of like living in an apartment building where you only passed that neighbor in the hallway on occasion. We possibly sat down together twice a week for brief intervals, but only to discuss things like molecules and blood types and advanced techniques to improve mental functions.”