by Calista Fox
“When you were how old?”
“From the time I could talk.”
“Huh.”
They passed through the tall glass doors held open by a doorman, and Evan directed her to a black limo. The driver apparently saw them approach, because he alighted from the car and opened the back door. Staci scooted in. Evan followed, pulling his overcoat taut as he slid across the leather seat. He gave the driver directions, and they were off.
She said, “You didn’t really answer my initial question. Though I do appreciate that you told me about your mom.”
He leaned over and kissed her.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Except…You spark the desire to kiss you.”
Staci’s stomach fluttered. “You’re really very special, Evan.”
He kissed her again. The passionate, no-holds-barred kind of kiss he pulled out when she least expected it.
When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless.
Staci waved a black-leather-gloved hand in front of her face.
“Damn, Ev,” she said on a ragged breath. “For a foot guy, you really are all about the lips.”
He let out a healthy laugh. “I swear, you’re amusing in the most incredibly endearing way. You just…” He shook his head.
“I just what?”
“You make me see things differently than what I’m used to.”
Staci tore her gaze from his and stared out the side window. She watched the snowy Manhattan sidewalks crawl by in the midmorning traffic. She really found the city beautiful, especially this time of year.
“Staci?”
Evan’s deep voice swept over her like a lover’s caress. She turned back to face him.
“Where’d you go?” he asked in a quiet tone.
“I’ve always been a person with strong convictions, and I’ve never been afraid to voice my opinions or stand by them. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
He grinned. “And have come to admire.”
“Sometimes I’m brash,” she confessed. “Sometimes just brazen. I have a very good sense of right and wrong, and really, at the end of the day, I want to make a difference.” She felt peculiar feelings rise within her as she said, “For someone like you—of your professional stature—to say that I make you see things differently…The fact that I could convince you to see my plight for what it is and agree to help me…” She stared intently at him. “I just feel like it’s an accomplishment. But—”
“It is, Staci. Look at how hard you worked to build your business. Look at how hard you worked to get my attention.”
“I know you think that they’re just shoes, Evan. But they’re not. They’re an identity. Just as you said, they’re a part of me. Yet…that’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m trying to say is that you make me see things differently, too. You make me believe in things I haven’t since I was eighteen. You make me…really happy that I met you.” She shook her head. Swiped at a tear. “I swear I’m not the weepy type. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.”
“I wouldn’t take you for the weepy type,” he gently teased. “But it doesn’t bother me either way. In fact, I like seeing your sensitive side.”
“Evan…I didn’t tell you straight-out how I feel when I just said that I was really happy that I met you. What I really mean is that…you make me happy.” She let out a sharp laugh. “That probably sounds stupid because, I mean, we were so annoyed with each other and then—”
Evan kissed her again.
And Staci gave herself over to the intensity, the heat. So much so that she barely even noticed when he pulled her into his lap. His hands slipped into her open coat and slid around to her back. Evan crushed her against him as he kissed her with the sort of desire that left her burning from the inside out.
When the car eventually came to a stop, Staci dragged her mouth away.
“Damn, Ev.” Her chest rose and fell against his. “You certainly do know how to rock a girl’s world.”
“I’m only interest in rocking yours.”
“Well, then. Once again…Mission accomplished.”
Chapter Fifteen
They spent the day doing the sort of things Evan never would have imagined himself doing on an impromptu day off.
Launching their excursion, they visited Staci’s store, the second one she’d opened after establishing operations. She explained that her first boutique was in L.A., in a nice neighborhood, though of course she’d prefer to be closer to Rodeo Drive. As for the New York location, she told him her heart was set on something closer to Fifth Avenue.
She literally swept into the Midtown shop with the panache he’d come to expect from her. The employees gushed, customers were awestruck, and Staci bought five pairs of shoes, which pleased the manager to no end—and spurred some impulsive buys from ladies who clearly wanted to emulate Staci. A clever sales tactic on her part.
Meanwhile, Evan studied the various samples on display, his mind churning.
Following that, they had a late lunch at one of his favorite restaurants and batted around ideas about the sort of enhancements that might factor into her mission while also doodling concepts on cocktail napkins.
Then he treated her to a carriage ride in Central Park as the snow fell. They huddled together and sipped hot chocolate. She told him more about her family, describing how close they were. Evan opened up a little about the fact that he had no idea who his father was, but really, he didn’t have anything else to say on the subject of family because he’d never had any.
As they strolled toward the Plaza Hotel, she asked, “You still haven’t told me why you chose podiatry.”
“Oh, right.” The snow came down a bit heavier as twilight descended, and he guided her into a bar where they shook the flakes off their coats and settled into a cozy booth.
Evan ordered pints of draft beer for them, then told Staci, “So, I was the water boy for the JV team, right?”
“That’s as far as we got.”
“Just so you know the history of Evan Hart, I was a nerd. I know, big surprise,” he quipped.
“Please don’t tell me you wore a lab coat to school.”
“From kindergarten to the third grade. That’s a rep that stays with you, by the way.”
“Oh, my God,” she said in a sweet voice. “I can totally picture it. And I bet you were adorable.”
“The adorable geek. Yes. That was me.”
“Total brainiac?”
“The teachers literally did not know what to do with me. But my mother was deeply engrossed in one of her projects prior to the Alzheimer’s research, and couldn’t be bothered to meet with the school administrators to determine what sort of honors classes I ought to be enrolled in or discuss other schools they felt were more suitable for my IQ.”
“Wow. So…what? You were left to fend for yourself?”
“In school and out of it. But that’s not really the point.”
“Where you come from, Evan, is a huge part of who you are today.”
“Singularly focused on my work. I think we’ve already established that.”
Staci sipped her beer, then gave him a shrewd look. “That’s not exactly true anymore, is it?”
Evan groaned as he thought of everything he’d done to this beautiful woman the night before. And some of the things he still wanted to do to her. “As usual, you make a very good point.”
“So how’d it all shake out?” she asked.
He shrugged and said, “I tried to get a little bit cooler by at least being associated with the football team—since there was no chance in hell my mom would sign the forms for me to even try out—and it was all okay for the most part. Then one day, our quarterback—a fourteen-year-old kid who’d always been the first to come to my defense whenever someone pushed me around—got sacked during a game. His body went one way, his foot went the other. Bones snapped and shot through his skin. He let out the most blood-curdling screams and passed out f
rom the pain.”
“Oh, God.” She cringed. “That’s horrible.”
“Yes. It was bad. Unfortunately, it got worse. He wasn’t treated properly, and his foot became infected. So severely, he had an emergency amputation.”
“Okay,” she said in a solemn voice, quickly catching on. “He was your friend. A secret friend, right? Because he was popular and you weren’t, so…He’d stick up for you, but couldn’t really be seen with you. And then he shattered his foot and it was removed and he needed a prosthetic one. That’s why you’re interested in the field.”
“Prostheses aren’t my specialty,” he reminded her.
“Because you have to start somewhere, Evan. You’re only thirty-three. And you can’t become a world-renowned surgeon who operates on former supermodels and the like without putting your sole focus into that one area of expertise.”
“Chris was never fully treated and he died from continuous infections.”
“Shit.” She sat back in her seat.
“That’s why I went into podiatry. It’s the first line of defense—trying to solve the problem before amputation, particularly in diabetic patients. As far as prostheses go…I just keep thinking there could have been something suitable for him that his body wouldn’t have rejected.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Yes. Mostly with upper limbs, though.”
“But you’re still doing so much at the root cause. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
“Of course.” Evan sipped his beer, then said, “I just feel a certain obligation, that’s all. To Chris.”
“That’s because you’re a very conscientious man, Evan Hart.” Her hand covered his as it rested on the table. “You’re a great champion for a great cause.”
He pinned her with a look. “So are you, Staci.”
He downed his beer, paid the tab, and said, “Let’s get out of here. Go back to my apartment. We’ll order in Chinese and watch a movie.”
Evan’s driver picked them up at the curb. Once settled in his spacious apartment, with a fire blazing in the tall hearth, boxes of food spread out on the coffee table, and red wine poured, Evan felt a little more in his element.
Staci had a very natural, compelling way of tapping into his life, his past. He found it impossible to refuse answering her questions, but that didn’t mean it made him comfortable. He’d spent so much of his life in isolation. Studying, planning for the future, rising to the top of his profession. He didn’t allow himself to be mired in the past, or in emotions.
Yet Staci easily drew him out of his shell.
He liked how forthcoming she was about everything in her life. And he felt the connection between them on so many levels. Even when they lapsed into quiet moments, Evan was content to just sit by her and enjoy the smell of her, the nearness of her.
There was something extremely powerful building between them, and he didn’t fight it. Didn’t question it. Just let it exist and grow.
When the credits rolled on the movie they’d both agreed on, Evan shut down the system while Staci closed up the boxes and put the excess in his fridge. He poured them more wine. She returned to the living room, looking particularly chipper.
As she joined him and sipped from her glass, he asked, “What’s with the cat-who-just-ate-the-canary grin?”
“Jean texted the confirmation that we’re in at Le Jules Verne for a nine o’clock seating.”
“Nice. We’re wheels up at five a.m. on Monday morning from here. We’ll get into Paris around six thirty in the evening and head to the restaurant. If your schedule allows, we can spend Tuesday in Paris and fly back Wednesday morning.”
Staci set her glass on an end table. “I spoke with my VP of Operations earlier. She’s assured me that everything is under control, and I trust her completely. So there’s absolutely nothing keeping me from Paris, you, and a little romance.”
“A little? Baby, this is Paris we’re talking about.”
She laughed. It was music to his ears. “I’m still acclimating. That kiss you laid on me at Jean Marquis…in public…all those eyes on us…”
“Not the norm for me, either. But isn’t that the way this is all supposed to go? Impulsive and crazed and…” He reached for her and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. Then added, “Passionate.”
“Oh, I’m all for the passion.” She straddled his lap, her skirt hitching up. Her fingers plowed through his hair. “What you did to me last night was hot. I’m game for whatever else you have in mind.”
“I have plenty in mind. You definitely inspire some extremely wicked fantasies.” His arms wrapped around her waist, and he stood. Her legs wound around his hips, and he carried her to the fur rug spread out on the hardwood floor before the fireplace. He eased her down, then grabbed several plump pillows and dropped them on the rug. He shed his clothes while she watched, her tongue darting out and gliding over her lower lip.
Then he removed her dress and lingerie, but kept the boots on. They were damn sexy.
Evan’s testosterone level spiked as he flipped her onto her stomach and admired her gorgeous ass and that satiny, honey-colored skin. He guided her onto all fours and positioned himself behind her. He palmed her cheeks and spread them wide. Then he dipped his head and ran his tongue along her already-slick folds.
She gasped. Her body jolted.
“Evan,” she said, “I know exactly how good you are at this. Don’t make me beg for—”
His tongue whisked over her quivering flesh once more. She let out a squeal of delight.
He spread her lips and flicked his tongue over her clit.
“Oh, God, yes,” she said as she settled on the rug with her forearms propping her up, her spine arched, her ass in the air. “Eat my pussy.”
He licked feverishly, instantly captivated by the smell of her, the taste of her. The way she moaned and gasped. The way her hips rocked back to press against his mouth.
He suckled her clit, and she ground against him. His tongue fluttered, and then he suckled again.
She was wet and her skin was hot. Evan devoured the bounty she offered, his tongue dipping into her opening, swirling, then returning to her clit. Her sharp pants and small cries of pleasure spurred him on.
“You’re so damn good,” she whimpered. “Oh, God. Evan, make me come.”
His tongue flitted over her clit again, then his lips teased hers.
“You’re so cruel,” she mock-complained. “You know exactly what I want. Give it to me.”
His tongue pressed to her clit and flickered over it. He drew her swollen clit into his mouth once more, and that was all it took. She called out his name as she came against his lips, his tongue.
“Jesus, Evan,” she said in a breathy voice.
As her body still trembled, he slipped two fingers into her wet pussy and pumped quickly. His other hand slid around to the front of her and he rubbed her clit while stroking her inner walls. Everything about her was tight and tantalizing, and all Evan could focus on was pushing her to the edge again. She bucked against him, riding his fingers, clenching them and hungrily deriving as much pleasure as she could.
“Come again,” he said. “I want you wet and ready for me.”
She moaned. He picked up the pace.
“God, Evan.” Then she lost it again, shattering around his fingers.
Evan let her savor every last vibration in her body. Then he withdrew his fingers. He rolled on a condom and entered her from behind, her tight canal holding him in a vise grip.
“Staci,” he groaned. “Damn it. I will never get used to how fucking good you feel.”
He slid along her coated inner walls, pulling all the way out and then pushing in. Deeper and deeper with each thrust.
She was sensational, and he couldn’t get enough of her. He pumped more quickly, more assertively.
“Evan,” she said in a lusty tone. “Yes. God. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
His pace increased. His thighs slapped against the
back of her hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady as he thrust more forcefully.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Yes. Evan. Yes!”
Her body quaked, and she clenched him so damn tight that he exploded within her, calling out her name as they both came.
* * *
Once again, Staci woke to Evan’s voice. This time, he spoke in agitation.
She was nestled in a silk sheet with a down comforter draped over her. She still lay where they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. Her body held the reminder of how aggressive Evan could be when he wanted her, and it made her skin tingle now.
He was damn good at claiming her, and she loved how explosive they were together.
But…something was definitely not right this morning. His tone was low, but decidedly dark. She popped her head out from under the comforter and caught a glimpse of him pacing alongside the sofa, iPhone pressed to his ear.
He said, “That’s not possible. I’ve got a lecture at Yale on Thursday, and then I’m speaking at Oxford on Saturday. I won’t be back in the office until the following Tuesday.” He listened some more, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, I understand that I’m not the lead on this project. But my notes on some of the advancements in prostheses are relevant to—yes, I realize that. However, my point being—” Evan let out a low growl.
Staci sat up. She tucked the covers around her. The fire still burned in the hearth, but a peculiar chill filled the air.
Evan said, “Of course that’s not how I feel, and that is not the case at all, Dr. Shipley. I know the accelerated timeline under which you’re operating, and I certainly did build that projection into my proposal. So—” Evan drew up short, his fist balling at his side. “If that’s the bottom line, then yes, of course. I will be there. I will present at the meeting. Absolutely.”