What Maxi Needs (Leave Your Shoes On)

by Calista Fox

  Not that she should have been so shocked about the former sentiment. Staci had already indicated that she had something in the works for the vacated post, and they hadn’t yet had a chance to discuss the candidate. Or work through a new direction for the division, since Staci was currently knee-deep in contingency planning. And for God’s sake, Maxi had only been VP since Friday. Three whole days. That was all.

  Adding to her dilemma was the way her thoughts were getting so easily derailed by the incongruous PhD, his mesmeric, dominant features not the least bit eclipsed by his stuffy air, no matter how perfectly he projected his well-educated, cultured side. And again, that low, intimate tone and spine-tingling accent that made her clit tingle and her pussy throb.

  What the hell was happening down there?

  “So I was wondering,” Einstein cut into her mental mania. “Would it be all right if I just dove in? I can show you and the team the in-depth analysis I’ve pulled together at Ms. Kay’s request for review and discussion this morning. Coupled with the strategic initiatives—low-hanging fruit, if you will—that I’ve identified to temporarily pick up our assembly pace while terms are negotiated to eliminate the necessity for a strike and improve our overall performance with the current staff we have in place. And then, of course, how we’ll strengthen functional operations for the long haul.”

  Maxi stared at him. Blinked a few times. “Analysis. Initiatives. Fruit…?”

  “Sure.” He gave a half-grin this time that only lifted one corner of his very tempting mouth and competed with his voice for the ultimate definition of sexy. “Might as well get a jump start on the problem, eh?”

  She fought a lusty sigh. Slowly said, “Agreed.”

  “Great!” Avril chimed in and made another move for the Mission Statement folders.

  Maxi’s pulse spiked—for an entirely different reason than sexual tension—and she gave a sharp shake of her head. Avril caught on quickly and, with her foot, discreetly shoved the box under the table and out of sight.

  Phew. Good save.

  Maxi had almost pulled a career-slaughtering Jerry Maguire move.

  Her recap provided no in-depth analysis, strategic initiatives, blah, blah, blah. She hadn’t gotten that far yet.

  But Einstein had?

  He was already reaching into his oversized laptop bag and dragging out his own presentation binders. Thick packets that he started passing out as he told the group, “You’ll see from the comparison I’ve done of five shoe companies on par with the size of Staci Kay, as well as three with a slightly smaller employee base and market outreach, and three with a bit larger number of employees and wider outreach, that our production is significantly inferior to the comps I’ve used for the purpose of this assessment.”

  “That’s because we’re understaffed at the moment,” Maxi pointed out, maintaining her position of authority at the front of the room. Forcing herself out of her dreamy state. She allowed other emotions to chase away the sizzle down her spine brought on by Tall, Dark, and Brainy.

  She felt a touch territorial of her division and not exactly thrilled that Einstein was taking over with his two inches of documentation and colorful charts, which she could see from where she stood as the others shared the copies he’d brought and hastily flipped through the pages.

  “Actually, we’re not,” Dr. Donovan countered. At her perplexed look, he added, “I’ll explain. You see—” He turned to Avril, still standing by Maxi’s chair. “You must be the division’s assistant.”

  “She’s my executive assistant,” Maxi corrected.

  “My apologies,” he said to Avril. He joined her and offered his hand. They shook.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Donovan.”

  “Please, call me Ryan.” He flashed his engaging grin, which made Avril smile prettily in return. Maxi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His accent and contradictory rugged-and-refined looks were getting the best of Avril as well.

  Einstein said, “I see there’s a projection system in this room. Would it be possible to plug in my thumb drive so I can bring up some visual aids?”

  He even had a PowerPoint presentation?

  Maxi fought the gape.

  Who is this guy?

  Obviously finding Einstein charming—as Maxi had suspected—Avril eagerly said, “Certainly, Ryan. That’s no problem at all.”

  Traitor!

  Maxi scowled.

  While she attempted to get her wits about her, Mr. PhD whipped out his tiny external storage drive from his bag and gave it over to Avril for her to load. He set his bag alongside Maxi’s chair and then crossed the room in wide, confident strides. With a flourish, he pushed open the floor-to-ceiling doors that housed the projection screen, as though he were unveiling the newest USS Enterprise. His slide deck came up and Avril offered him the wireless mouse with a laser pointer. Which he used!

  The little red dot homed in on several components of a multilayered peaking and plummeting chart as he told everyone, “I calculated Staci Kay assembly and shipping, laid it against our closest competitors’ numbers, and discovered that we’re only operating at a production rate of forty-two-point-three-nine-five percent.”

  “Once again,” Maxi stated with measured patience, “that’s because we currently have a reduction in staff, with so many walking out when demand for our product substantially increased.”

  “Actually, Ms. Shayne,” he said in a conspiratorial tone that brought the sizzle back full-force, “I ran these figures based on production six months ago, long before our staff began its mass exodus.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, to refute, to…anything. No words came out.

  “The fact of the matter is,” he continued, the warm timbre of his voice intensifying the thrumming between her legs, “when we were at one hundred percent functionality and staffing, the output never exceeded the roughly forty-two percent. That means our manufacturing efforts have never run at full capability. Therefore, it’s no wonder we’re suffering under this new paradigm of amplified sales.”

  “Excuse me,” Jack Holden, VP of Production, interjected.

  Maxi saw Donovan steal a glance at the nameplate before he graciously said, “Mr. Holden, so nice to meet you. Please do not think I’m picking on the Production department. I’m merely providing the facts. All of the supporting documentation for my findings are contained within your booklets, including appropriate resource attributions and data sources.”

  Not exactly placated, Jack said in a prickly tone, “We’ve never failed to meet production deadlines and have never disrupted flow for Facilities, Shipping, or Distribution.”

  “Yes, I’ve learned that as well,” Dr. Donovan said, seeming to retain his cool despite the fact that Jack still visibly bristled. “But that’s because sales were such that they fell within that forty-two percent of production—there was never a need to speed up manufacturing and assembly, because there wasn’t additional demand beyond that base level. However, with the phenomenal success of the new ad campaign that is not only sweeping the Internet, appearing in magazines, and on TV—also being showcased on billboards and permeating the global market—the numbers game is wreaking havoc on all Staci Kay operations.”

  Jack crossed his arms over his chest and fumed.

  Einstein shot a look Maxi’s way. “May I continue?”

  “By all means,” she drolly encouraged. He’d either end up being the most hated man in the building or the most revered. The pendulum could swing either way; Maxi burned with curiosity as to the outcome.

  The genius was living on the edge with this group. Everyone in the room was under fire, and all it took was a quick glance around the conference table to see that they wanted to shoot daggers Einstein’s way if he singled out their functional area as a weak link.

  But she couldn’t deny that he had a valid point with supply and demand—it was precisely the issue she’d pegged earlier.

  Ryan changed slides and said, “At the moment, the spike in sales sh
ould be manageable. In less than two weeks, certainly not. Reason being, we had plenty of back-stock to supplement our stores, third-party vendor orders, and online sales. However, that excess is rapidly depleting. There will be a huge lull in distributing our product in precisely two hundred and sixty-seven hours and twenty-seven seconds—in broad strokes, eleven days from right now—if we don’t implement strategic improvements immediately.”

  Maxi heard the restless shifting of chairs and felt the agitation of the executives.

  She noted that several VPs appeared wholly uncomfortable, as though they’d just been ripped new ones. Others were suddenly as captivated as Maxi. Though she was pretty certain that only her skin tingled.

  Well, perhaps Avril’s did as well, because Maxi’s assistant was blatantly riveted, having slid into Maxi’s chair and glued her gaze on their new director.

  “What do you suggest?” Maxi prompted, playing along to see if Einstein would let out enough rope to hang himself with this crowd, or win them over. A risky game, for sure, but he fascinated her.

  So much so, she stepped closer to him. Stared up at him imploringly.

  Could he really be their salvation?

  Dr. Donovan reached for the knot of his silver silk tie with thin navy pinstripes, as though instantly hot under the collar.

  Interesting.

  Had she done that to him?

  Because apparently, the pressure he was under to prove himself credible didn’t quite register. He remained self-assured and steel-shouldered.

  Yet he had to drag his gaze from her. Clear his throat.

  This intrigued her further.

  Einstein flipped through more slides as he said, “It’s imperative that our staff reach peak capability. Think of it this way. When we’re staffed at one hundred percent but are only producing at forty-two percent, that offers the potential to improve by fifty-eight percent without employees even going above and beyond the call of duty. They’re still working their normal eight-hour shifts, just at a more accelerated pace to match industry standard—to match our competitors’ pace. That will push out our time frame for full-blown crisis to twenty-three days, which should provide sufficient time to hire more workers and pump up our shipping efforts.”

  He gave Maxi a voila! look, evidently having thoroughly composed himself. Then he continued, now addressing his wider audience. “Of course, we’ll have to incrementally improve upon that workforce capacity. But as long as we’re operating at full steam, we shouldn’t slip behind and will eventually come out ahead of the curve, especially if we incentivize staff to stay on board, and encourage those who did walk out to come back, since they’re already trained and can step right into production mode.”

  Once again, he looked damn pleased with himself.

  Maxi watched in awe as he backed up his conjecture with more charts and algebraic equations that pretty much blew her mind. However, she tried to appear as though she was following along, and that all those crazy numbers and symbols somehow gelled in her head.

  Not a fucking chance.

  At the end of his dissertation—which left everyone in the room with glassed-over eyes, so that Maxi didn’t feel too intelligence-shamed—Einstein simply wrapped up by saying, “You’ll find at the back of your booklets the Gantt charts that capture the precise deadlines and projections to meet our objectives. They conveniently pull out to full size.”

  Papers began to rustle. The agitation turned to…enthusiasm?

  Maxi’s stomach took a dive south, because she was sans workbook and had no idea what the others were studying so intently. “I’m sorry…Gantt charts?”

  “Yes,” the sexy PhD told her, his eyes warm and friendly. “Demonstrations of tactics, milestones, budgets, resources, et cetera, all extrapolated out to a comfort zone above needs-based production.”

  “Extrapolation above needs-based production.” The words tripped off her tongue.

  “Yes,” he repeated excitedly. “So that we have a replenished back-stock of the most popular styles when the crisis passes and can be in the position to accommodate surges in sales when they arise.”

  All righty, then.

  She sighed. A dull ache throbbed behind her left eye, competing with all the zings still ricocheting through her body. “Very good, Dr. Donovan. This has all been quite…enlightening.”

  Christ, her brain was about to explode.

  So how was it that she was still turned on by him?

  “Please, Ms. Shayne, call me Ryan,” he insisted.

  “Fine. And I’m just Maxi.”

  “Hardly.” His gaze slid over her, an appreciative look in his rich brown eyes.

  Maxi stared at him as the others continued to ooh and ahh over the Gantt charts.

  Was Einstein…flirting…with her?

  With her?

  Vice President of the division for which he now worked?

  His boss?

  And why did that forbidden notion send liquid fire through her veins?

  Chapter Two

  “So, this is your office,” Avril told Ryan as they entered a decent-sized space at the end of a short hallway that housed two other offices for managers, and a small conference room. “There should be plenty of supplies, but if you need anything not on-hand, just let me know. Your assistant is Anne Phelps, but she’s out on vacation right now. So I’ll be filling in.”

  “Thank you for the help.”

  Avril smiled sweetly. “My pleasure.” Her gaze lingered on him a few moments, then she directed him to the desk set at an angle in the far corner.

  He sank into the executive chair. She whisked a Post-it from its dispenser next to the leather blotter and jotted down a series of numbers and letters.

  Handing over the sticky note, she said, “This is the temporary password to log on to the company network. You’ll need to immediately change the code, since it’s universally used for our new employees. Once you’re in, a screen will pop up to walk you through establishing your account and accessing e-mail, as well as the various Ops division drives where we share files. Then the training modules will launch. They’re mandatory to complete and each one comes with a ten-question quiz at the end.”

  “Fascinating,” he said, having absolutely no idea all the orientation entailed. Ryan had never worked directly for a company; he’d only consulted.

  Coming around to his side of the desk and propping a hip against the edge, Avril told him, “Expect to spend the entire day with the setup and training. And just holler if you need anything. Anything at all. My name’s already listed on your landline—speed-dial number three. If you need Maxi, she’s number one, of course.”

  “Of course.” Six-inch red stilettos flashed in his mind. The high heels alone were sexy as hell. And the long and lean legs attached…?

  Ryan shook his head. But he couldn’t dislodge the image of Maxi Shayne, tanned and toned, and the perfect walking advertisement for Staci Kay Shoes, strutting her stuff in the conference room, challenging him every step of the way.

  That had really gotten the adrenaline pumping.

  The woman was striking from head to toe. Her beautifully sculpted face had held him spellbound for a few seconds when he’d first come through the conference room door. Then he’d gotten a good look at her legs in that short skirt and, well, it was a wonder he’d made it through his presentation.

  In fact, it was a damn good thing he knew the data and stats backward and forward, because he’d basically been on autopilot as he’d mentally tripped over his instant and shockingly strong physical reaction to Maxi Shayne.

  His new boss.

  The hint of forbidden made his groin tighten.

  Rather unexpected. Ryan had never considered himself a danger magnet.

  Don’t get distracted by gorgeous thighs and sapphire eyes.

  The company was in crisis, for God’s sake. The last thing that should be on his mind was a feisty, dark-haired dynamo wearing sassy shoes.

  Trying to maintain some semblanc
e of professionalism—never a problem for him until today—he told Avril, “I appreciate your time. I’m sure everything online is self-explanatory.”

  “Well, yes,” she said, sounding reticent to be so hastily dismissed. Still hovering close to him. “It is. But, you know, sometimes there are glitches in the system or something just doesn’t compute. So that’s when you can ring me. Line three.” She pointed to the button. “Right there.”

  Ryan bit back a chuckle. The executive assistant was certainly attractive, with her honey-blonde hair and golden irises, the likes of which he’d never seen. He pegged her for about twenty-two, which he considered too young for him now that he was on the verge of thirty.

  Aside from that, Ryan wasn’t in the market for a date and definitely not a girlfriend. His passion for equations and anything that kept him preoccupied all spawned from a horrific breakup that would easily rate a 10.0 on the Richter scale.

  He was the type to learn his lesson the first time around—no repeat performances needed.

  “I’ll make sure your calendar is up to date,” Avril told him with another beguiling smile and batted lashes. “While I have access to it, before Anne returns.”

  “Very kind of you.”

  “All right, then,” she said.

  “All right, then.” He grinned.

  “Yes, well. This is me leaving.” She pushed away from the desk, whirled around on low heels, and made a graceful exit.

  Ryan’s brow crooked. So that was what office crushes were all about? He’d never operated in this sort of environment and didn’t have experience with workplace flirtations. He’d mostly been hired to work independently or on an all-male team. But Staci had literally been stalking him for months, convinced there was going to be an upward pitch in sales that her company wouldn’t be able to handle, and had claimed she desperately needed his help.

  Very Princess Leia appealing to Obi-Wan in the hidden message Luke found embedded in R2-D2’s circuitry.