When Staci Takes Charge (Leave Your Shoes On 2)

“I promise to use a coaster. And I won’t listen to the CDs or watch DVDs. I have my tablet with iTunes and Netflix. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He continued to hedge. “You don’t exactly blend into the woodwork, Lo.”

She flashed a bright smile again, all straight, pearly white teeth. “You know you can’t resist me. I’ll just wear you down until you say ‘yes,’ so you might as well save us both the time and energy.”

“You make me crazy.”

“But you love me anyway.”

More than you know…

She was right, though. He never could resist her. Whatever Lola wanted…

Long before they’d even heard the catchphrase, she’d embodied that motto—back when she was just seven years old, a fun-loving free spirit with springy blond curls and that adorable dimple.

“Fine.” He caved. As always.

Throwing her arms around him, she said, “You’re the best. I won’t get in your way, I swear.”

She detangled herself and pulled her suitcase across the room. He followed, hot on her high heels.

“No cooking,” he demanded. “You burn everything. And no emptying the dishwasher—I’ll never figure out where you put my ramekins. And just, well, you know…try not to touch anything.”

“Oh, Alex,” she scoffed with a wave of her manicured hand. “What’s life without a little clusterfuck from time to time?”

Christ. This was going to be a disaster of epic proportions. He knew it already.

Lola went in the direction of his guest bedroom, luckily located on the opposite side of the condo from his room. She wouldn’t exactly be sleeping next door.

As if that would keep him from wanting to crawl into bed with her.

“I’m gonna unpack and take a shower,” she called out. “Long day flying from Baltimore, and I’m practically soaked to the bone. Then some wine and a catch-up?”

More temptation staring him in the face? Best to get the hell out. Regroup.

“Uh, you ought to relax and get some rest,” he insisted.

“Yeah, probably a smart idea,” came her muffled voice. “I want to be in tip-top shape for my first day tomorrow.”

“Good thinking.”

And he needed to get his raging lust under control.

Stopping at the kitchen table, he shut down his laptop and then put away the terrine. He dumped his wine, washed the glass, and returned it to the overhead rack. “I’m going for a beer at Pete’s.”

“Tell him I say hey.”

Alex left, braving nature and driving to the small bar in Old Town Scottsdale. He slid onto a stool with thoughts of a sexy blonde stripping down to nothing in his guest bathroom.

Pete Murray cracked the tap on Alex’s favorite amber brew and set the pint in front of him.

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Alex grumbled. But he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bar and had to admit that his friend was right. His dark hair was windblown from the storm, but the dire look on his face was all Blondie’s doing. He combed his fingers through the damp strands, loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Tried to appear less rocked to the core of his being.

“What gives?” Pete asked.

“Lola’s back in town.”