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“That’s not necessary. Thank you for your time.”
Evan stepped aside.
So much for dinner at Jean Marquis. Or with Staci Kay.
Admittedly, he was severely disappointed to not be seeing her this evening.
Evan had been monumentally relieved to learn that their middle-of-the-night hallway encounter truly had been coincidental. Nothing she’d planned or contrived. An act of kismet or destiny or whatever sort of cosmic force had felt compelled to throw them together.
Though said force was keeping them apart right now.
What the hell was up with that?
But who was standing up whom tonight?
He milled about for a few more minutes to see if she was trapped in some conglomeration of people hoping for a table. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had groupies. The hostess had certainly warmed up substantially at the mention of Staci’s name.
Yes, the fiery redhead possessed an abundance of magnetism. Spirited charisma that screamed trouble for a man like him, yet here he was, waiting on her.
Dr. Evan Hart, who waited for no one.
Served him right, he suspected, for making her traipse across the country.
Well, he hadn’t made her travel far and wide to catch up with him. Though he hadn’t made it easy on her, either.
So…what? Now she was going to teach him a little lesson by leaving him in the lurch this evening?
Women.
This was one of the reasons he didn’t date. Evan didn’t have a high tolerance for waiting around or being in the dark about people’s true intentions.
Conversely, he was willing to wait all damn night for Staci Kay to show.
What a sap he’d instantly become.
He grinned. Really, he didn’t mind if she was going out of her way to make him batty. Just as long as she showed up eventually. Because he was dying to be with her again. And this time, he’d finish what he’d started in his office. He’d claim that sassy mouth of hers and—
His cell rang. Evan whipped it out of his pocket and connected the call, efficiently saying, “Dr. Hart speaking.”
“I’m calling for Evan.”
Staci’s sultry voice filled the line. His groin tightened.
“You’ve reached him. I assume you’re running late.”
“Oh, heavens, no,” she said. “I’m not one of those types. I’m always on time. Or a few minutes early. Whatever.”
“Then where are you? Because I’ve already circled this crowd and you’re nowhere to be found.”
“I’m in the bar with Jean Marquis. Come join us. We’re sharing a fabulous Bordeaux from his private wine cellar.”
“Of course you are.” Evan wasn’t even surprised. He chuckled and said, “I’m on my way.”
He hung up and wove through the throng toward the west wing of the restaurant, where the bar was tucked away. There were sofas and high tops with upholstered stools scattered about, but he quickly located Staci at the end of the rich mahogany bar, leaning in close to hear what the gentleman next to her—executive chef and famed restaurateur Jean Marquis himself—had to say.
She laughed vibrantly at whatever comment he made. Evan shook his head. Was there anyone on the planet the woman couldn’t win over?
As he eyed her while approaching their secluded corner, he quickly decided there was likely no man on the planet whom Staci Kay couldn’t win over.
