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“Continue.”
She shrugged. “That’s pretty much it.”
Evan considered the exam he’d given her and said, “You don’t suffer from the standard ill effects of women who spend a bit too much time in high heels. No bunions, corns, or visible signs of stress. In fact, you have impeccable grooming habits and clearly put extensive effort into caring for your feet. Regular pedicures?”
“That’s basically the female equivalent to men making weekly pilgrimages to the golf course.”
“Indeed. Any tingling?”
“In my feet?” she asked. Then she sucked in her cheeks and stared up at the ceiling, as though trying to cover a massive faux pas she didn’t want him to—
Evan shot to his own feet. He crossed to his desk and paced behind it, needing even more space between the two of them. He raked a hand through his hair in what could only be described as sexual agitation.
This was all spiraling out of control. But he kept his cool as he simply said, “Yes, in your feet.”
Staci gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
He pinned her with a look.
She sighed. “Sometimes along the outside,” she confessed. “But nothing I’d consider painful or even distracting. I only notice it from time to time.”
He asked, “How long have you been wearing high heels?”
“Really, Evan?” She stood abruptly.
“Hey,” he countered, “sit still until I deem it okay for you to stand.”
“I don’t need you to deem when it’s okay for me to stand,” she insisted. “I’m not a dog, Evan. And I’m telling you straight out that my ankles, my feet, my toes…They’re fine. Do they ache on occasion because of my shoes? Sure. I won’t lie. It’s to be expected. Maybe if I had someone in my life who was more interested in massaging my feet than probing and examining them, they might not hurt so much. But whatever. I’m not here for me right now or today or for the past week.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Then why are you here?”
Clearly exasperated, Staci said, “I’m here for women who actually do feel the stress of wearing the shoes they love—that they buy from my company. And goddamn it, I’m not going to get into all of this right now with you, in your office, on your turf, when you’re feeling high and mighty because you’re treating me for some stupid accident that wasn’t even my fault.”
She stepped into her heels and scooped up her clutch. “If you don’t show up at Jean Marquis at eight o’clock this evening, Dr. Evan Hart, so help me God, I will call my lawyer.”
Evan made it to the door at the same time Staci did. He pressed his hand to the wood just as she tugged on the handle. The door didn’t give.
“Damn it, Evan,” she huffed.
He propped a bent arm against the door to keep it closed.
“Just calm down a little,” he told her in a quiet voice. “You go storming out of here and hit that tile floor again and you’ll—”
“I’ll pay for the trip to the ER this time. Someone else can examine me.”
“I don’t want anyone else examining you,” he all but growled
Christ. That didn’t come out right.
She glared at him. “What do you want?”
“I just meant…I don’t want you to hurt yourself and need to be examined again.” He shook his head. “That’s not the only thing I meant by that comment.”
Her glare softened to a seductive glow that completely did him in. They stood so close to each other that her shoulder grazed his arm and her chest brushed ever so slightly against his. Evan not only inhaled her enticing scent, but felt her all around him. Deep inside. Straight to his soul.
If she moved just an inch closer, her breasts would nestle below the ledge of his pecs. He knew exactly how that felt, and longed to feel it again. He yearned to wrap his arm around her narrow waist, haul her up against him, and kiss her senseless.
The urge was so strong, so overwhelming
