When Staci Takes Charge (Leave Your Shoes On 2)

His brow crooked. “You grew up in Beverly Hills?”

“Yes. My first shoe-shopping excursion was on Rodeo Drive. I was hooked from the beginning.”

“Why am I not surprised?” He swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.

“What have I said about your judging?” she teased. “And for the record, I might be a shoe connoisseur, but I am not a shoe snob. At least, not anymore.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I now appreciate shoes for their beauty as much as for their value. When I was younger, I tended to collect whatever was most expensive. Then, as I was packing for college, it suddenly dawned on me that I had an entire room devoted to shoes—and there were a number of them that I’d never even taken out of the box.”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. “Did you just say you had an entire room devoted to shoes?”

“Well, not just shoes…Handbags and scarves, too.”

He laughed. Or snickered. It was tough to tell because he was clearly trying not to offend her.

Staci said, “Anyway, I also had styles that only went with one outfit. It was incredibly wasteful. So, feeling a surge of guilt, I donated half of them and put the other half on eBay for absurdly low prices. I made enough to invest in some stocks that helped me to fund my first warehouse and operations when I was ready to start my business.”

“Interesting. And resourceful.”

They entered the bathroom.

Staci gaped. Her heart launched into her throat.

There were lit votive candles everywhere. White and red rose petals were carefully scattered over the long marble vanity, the floor, and the tub…which was filled with fragrant bubbles.

Her fingers pressed to her lips as emotion welled within her.

Evan set her gently on her feet. It took Staci a few moments to collect herself as her gaze swept through the room.

Then it landed on Evan. “You asked the butler to do this, didn’t you?”

“You like it?”

She swallowed down a hard lump in her throat. The backs of her eyes burned for irrational reasons. Staci wasn’t the sappy sort, but damn if she wasn’t feeling a tug on her own heartstrings right this very minute.

“This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” she told him.

Evan’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be true. They’re just candles, sweetheart. Some mutilated flowers. Bubbles.”

She let out a strangled laugh at his attempt to be lighthearted. “It’s absolutely beautiful. More than that…it’s the thought behind the gesture.”

Oh, crap. Serious waterworks threatened her eyes.

What the hell?

Staci wasn’t one to get choked up so easily.

Then again…she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.

Evan reached for the sash at her waist and untied it. He said, “I find it very difficult to believe that—”

“I’ve never met anyone like you?”

The furrow of his brow deepened.

“It’s true,” she said. “I gave up a scholarship to UCLA to follow a boyfriend to the University of Baltimore. He dumped me less than a month into our first semester—for his English professor. She was thirty-two. He was eighteen. The school released her for misconduct with a student on campus. He dropped out and moved back to L.A. With her.”