When Staci Takes Charge (Leave Your Shoes On 2)

Lola’s gaze dropped to the mangled umbrella in her hand. “I know, right? It’s a torrential downpour out there. Crazy-wicked monsoons. I mean, look at my umbrella. Totally ruined. It’s Burberry, goddamn it.”

Alex shook his head. No hallucination. That was his Lola.

“Well, it is August,” he reminded her. “There’s rain in the forecast practically every day this week.”

“Then my next stop will have to be the mall, for a new umbrella.”

“I have several spares.” They were talking about the weather and umbrellas? With a quizzical look, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

From head to toe and back up, he took in the secret object of his never-ending desire as his lust warred with shock over her sudden intrusion.

“I wanted to surprise you.” She grabbed the keys from the knob and pocketed them. Then she slammed the door shut and locked it. “You should be on your way to Seattle right now.”

“Trip got cancelled. The client dropped us. Went with a cut-rate insurance company instead.”

“Bastards,” she said in his defense. “Who wants a cheapo industrial risk insurer when millions or billions of corporate dollars are at stake?”

“My thoughts exactly.” He waved a dismissive hand. They so easily got off-topic when they were together. “You never said you were coming for a vacation. And FYI, those keys I gave you are for emergency purposes only. I could have clobbered you—I thought you were a burglar.”

“I’m not on vacay,” she told him, stunning him yet again. And ignoring his comment about the keys. Eyeing his glass at the kitchen table, she said, “I’ll explain over wine.”

“I was just scanning receipts. Let me clean everything up and we can drop your bag off at your parents’ and go out for dinner.”

“I ate on the plane. And I’m not staying at my parents’ house. They’re on a cruise.” She gave him a vibrant smile as she added, “I was hoping to hang with you for a few days. A week or so, maybe.”

“What?” Disconcertment shot through him.

Alex didn’t host overnight guests. He lived a very neat and orderly life, and knew sharing his space with anyone would only create chaos, the likes of an entropy change that would result in a thermodynamically irreversible state.

With Lola, it would equal chaos plus a twenty-four-seven hard-on.

Jesus, he couldn’t focus on insurance deductibles and coverages—or his personal bookkeeping—when his mind was occupied with thoughts of getting tangled in the sheets with her. Which would be impossible to control if she stayed at his place. Hell, it was impossible to avoid those fantasies when she was clear across the country in Baltimore.

“Oh, come on, Alex,” she pleaded. Her sparkling smile, which revealed an endearing dimple in her left cheek, made his gut twist and his cock twitch.

Down, boy.

Lola Vonn was the stuff wet dreams were made of, with her mile-long legs, luscious body, and silky blond hair. Even having weathered the storm outside, she was the sexiest drowned rat he’d ever laid eyes on. And it wasn’t just his eyes he wanted to lay on her.

Move on from that idea. Fast!

He lurched forward, grabbing her umbrella and dumping it in the base of the coat rack, to be discarded later when he took out the trash. Then he helped her escape her lightweight raincoat and hung it on the peg he’d designated specifically for her. Turning back, he said, “You’re dripping all over my hardwood floor. I just had it refinished.”

Alex ducked into the laundry room and then returned with a towel. He knelt down to wipe up the small pool, but Lola let out a soft, seductive laugh.

He stared up at her.

“Seriously?” Her brow lifted.

Alex sighed. Sometimes he got things a little out of order because of the OCD. He straightened and handed her the towel. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed the wet strands of her long hair.

He left her once more and snagged the Swiffer from the linen closet to mop the floor.

“Anal much?” she quipped.

“I don’t like messes.”