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But he was all business. And certainly not devouring her with the hungry gaze she’d been the recipient of at three o’clock in the morning.
No, it was more like he was skeptical of her, which alarmed her slightly. Making it a huge surprise when he eventually conceded.
He said, “I’ll be there at eight. If you can get us a table, we’ll talk. Otherwise, I have somewhere else to be.”
Christ, the man loved playing hard to get.
The man who’d told her he wasn’t a player.
But there were certainly games afoot here.
What was his deal, anyway?
He tore his gaze from hers and sauntered off. Staci watched him go, admiring his backside. Despite the lab coat. Because she knew exactly what lay beneath the coat and his suit.
She more than longed to see him naked again—she craved it.
A crazy notion, but also an inescapable one.
Excitement trilled through her. Though Staci wasn’t sure if that was because she’d finally gotten an audience with the stoic, jet-setting surgeon or if it was just the man himself that lit her up.
Either way, she had a call to make.
She turned around, took three small steps, and went sliding across the now-wet tile. She let out a cry just as her feet slipped from underneath her, and she landed smack on her ass.
Exactly as Dr. Evan Hart had predicted.
Chapter Nine
Evan heard the sharp cry and whipped around, only to find Liz—oh, Christ, Staci Kay—sitting on the floor, her back to him.
“Shit,” he murmured. Then demanded, “Are you all right?” He took several wide strides toward her just as several others rushed to her aid, including the janitor mopping the floor.
Evan shooed them all away and knelt beside Staci, who looked a bit dazed. Again. Only this time, she looked jarred for an entirely different reason.
When she’d lost her voice earlier, he’d surmised it was because she was surprised he was actually speaking with her when he’d so successfully brushed her off all week. Now she looked as though she might be in pain.
“Just take it easy,” he said.
She shot him a dour look. “Do I appear to be on the verge of hysterics here?”
“No, not exactly. Just…” He groaned. His colleague Dr. Morrow had been right. She was a firecracker. “Where does it hurt?”
“Where do you think?” she deadpanned. “I fell on my ass. And by the way, why aren’t there any Slippery When Wet signs set out? I could sue this hospital.”
He cocked a brow. “Are you going to sue this hospital?”
“If you try to weasel out of dinner, yes.”
He let out a strangled sound of frustration mixed with awe. The woman pulled no punches. But he’d known that already. Knew exactly how feisty she could be—and how damn sexy.
Do not think of that.
Difficult to avoid, because here she was. In the flesh.
Flesh.
Do not think of that!
