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She smiled.
Then mentally contended that it was probably a good thing they’d been interrupted before his mouth had met hers. Staci was pretty damn sure the afternoon would not have ended with just a kiss.
As hot as she was for the sexy surgeon—and he was very obviously equally aroused by her—chances were very good she would have yanked off his lab coat, tie, and glasses, ripped open his shirt, shoved him down on the sofa, and climbed all over that hunky body of his.
So not a good idea.
The ball was finally in her court when it came to this man. She was in control now.
Well, aside from the fact that she was absurdly attracted to him. That was something she needed to tuck away and not think of again.
Dinner that night would be her chance to impress upon him the importance of her new corporate direction. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by everything that had happened today at the hospital. Couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by the way him carrying her into his office had triggered the memory of him carrying her into the hotel bedroom that fateful night, before they’d slipped under the covers and his hard, naked body had curled around hers.
Oh, those strong arms holding her tight…
She let out a sigh of delirium.
And yes, his hands on her were equally stimulating. His touch had burned her skin like a territorial branding. His intensity had vibrated within her.
When all was said and done, Staci had traveled the path of lust with him at the hotel—and had almost done the same thing this afternoon.
But that was not where her focus should be.
She’d scored time alone with him. She had to get her act together, pull herself from this bizarre sexual fog, and get down to business.
So she stepped out of the shower, did her makeup and hair, and slipped into a one-shouldered, sapphire-colored dress that clung to every curve she possessed. Then she added a pair of black leather pumps she thought Evan might appreciate at a minimal four inches.
She summoned her butler, who contacted the valet to bring a house limo around while Staci made a quick call to cash in a favor.
Then she grabbed her overcoat and slim laptop bag, which was loaded with all the Staci Kay focus group results she’d printed out. She took the elevator to the marbled reception area and practically sashayed through the hotel to the entrance, pushed through the revolving door, and descended the red-carpeted stairs to the car.
Despite the fact that Jean Marquis was just two blocks away, with a sensational view of Central Park, Staci elected not to brave the wintry sidewalks in pumps. The last thing she needed was to slip and slide again, and give Dr. Hart the satisfaction of the ball bouncing right back into his court.
She settled into the limo, and it pulled away from the curb. Staci had a concrete plan in mind for the evening. She’d dispel the theory that stilettos were the devil’s work and make a plea for Evan’s help.
Hopefully she could be eloquent about it. Not all breathy and melting at his feet.
But chances were good that was exactly what would happen.
* * *
Evan arrived at Jean Marquis promptly at eight. He wound his way through the multitude of people waiting for a table and approached the hostess podium. A statuesque brunette greeted him with a tight smile. Over the din, he asked, “Has Miss Kay checked in yet?”
The woman consulted the reservations and gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t have anyone down under that name.”
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“Staci Kay,” he elaborated. “Party of two.”
“No, sorry.” She looked around him to the patrons next in line.
Evan said, “From Staci Kay Shoes. No reservation whatsoever?”
“Oh, my God! That Staci Kay! I love her shoes!” the hostess exclaimed, her frigid smile turning bright and downright ecstatic. “I’m wearing my favorite peekaboos tonight. Is she actually here with you?”
“Not at present,” he said. “The reservation might be under Dr. Evan Hart.”
She scanned again, then told him, “I’m afraid not. And we’re booked solid for the evening. Can I make you a reservation for late March?”
