What Maxi Needs (Leave Your Shoes On 3)

“Bon appétit.” She grinned. Then dug into a forkful of the side dish before taking another hearty bite of her sandwich.

Ryan was riveted. Elizabeth had been a delicate eater and one of those anal-retentive types who made sure nothing on her plate comingled. Everything sat in its own neat little pile, nothing touching anything else. And she only nibbled at one food group at a time. When she was done with one item, always after three dainty bites, she’d then move on to the next.

Admittedly, it was a shame that she wasted so much food—and wouldn’t dream of passing any leftovers to Ryan. Elizabeth did not believe in sharing food or, God forbid, utensils. Not even when she was sleeping with the person with whom she was dining.

He fought a scowl. Now that was the absolute last thing he wanted to think about—prim and proper Elizabeth in the bedroom. Touching Dr. Elizabeth Sherman was like handling a fragile glass sculpture. Hell, he was surprised she hadn’t insisted he put on white gloves first, before he hugged her or made love to her—on such rare occasions.

Disgruntled by the memory and the inevitable why the hell did you stay with her for so long? that zoomed through his brain, he sank his teeth into the sandwich.

“Sensational,” he said, around his full mouth.

“I know, right? It’s from Fitch’s Deli. They deliver, for future reference. Their entire selection is astounding, but by far, they serve the best hot pastrami in Baltimore. I’d say along the Eastern Seaboard, but there’s this Lower East Side deli in New York that looks sort of cafeteria-ish but has—”

“Katz’s Deli,” he interjected.

“Yes! The most amazing—”

“Pastrami Reuben,” they said in unison. And laughed.

Maxi added, “The marbled rye just holds it all together perfectly.” She sighed euphorically, and it sent a bolt of excitement straight to Ryan’s cock. He bit back a groan.

He wasn’t getting a single reprieve from his powerful attraction to her.

She said, “The Reuben is what the deli should be famous for, not the fact that awesome scene from When Harry Met Sally… was shot there. Although, it really is one of the best scenes in the movie.”

“Which one is that?” he asked, having no idea to what she referred—he’d heard of the movie but had never watched it. And was grateful for safe subject matter.

Or so he thought…

“Oh, come on. You know.” Her eyes lit and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk, engaging him fully. “It’s hugely famous. The scene where Harry is being all macho about his sexual prowess, and Sally proves to him how easy it is for women to fake an orga—um, never mind.” She sat back suddenly. Shook her head. As though she hadn’t considered the direction in which this conversation was about to go—and was relieved she’d brought it to an abrupt halt.

She gave a sharp laugh that held no humor, though Ryan detected the undercurrent of sensuality to it.

Maxi said, “That is so not appropriate workplace conversation.”

She went back to her sandwich.

Interestingly, Maxi’s cheeks didn’t redden. She didn’t succumb to a blush or heat creeping over her skin because of her slip. He found her fierce attitude appealing. And, indeed, sensed he wasn’t the only one feeling a rush of lust.

Very interesting.

Eyeing her closely, he said, “Trust me, I’m not easily offended. What happened in the movie?”

Despite stepping farther into risky territory, he was captivated. Not over the film, per se, but Maxi’s depiction of it.

“Well.” She wiped her hands again. Still not flushing, she said, “Sally goes into the throes of passion right there in the middle of the restaurant for everyone to see and hear, just to show Harry how easily women can fake it. Then a waiter turns to one of his customers for her order—an older lady—and she says something to the effect of wanting what Sally just had. Very clever. I once heard that the woman who played the customer was Rob Reiner’s mother, which makes it even more charming. He directed the movie. You haven’t seen it?”

“No,” he said with a chuckle at her energetic disposition. He liked her immensely.

“Definitely a must-see,” she assured him. “Not a total chick-flick, I promise. Well…that could be a lie. Still. Everyone should watch this movie. It’s a great representation of all the myths, the truths, and the convenient and complicated theories of platonic relationships either debunked or solidified, but certainly worthy of conversation over wine.”

“I firmly believe men and women can be friends without sex being an issue.”

He had several female friends from MIT that he never once considered sleeping with, after all.

Maxi swallowed down some slaw, then said, “I’m on the fencepost. My dear friend Lola—she’s the one who came up with our fabulous ad campaign that you mentioned this morning—was best friends with this guy, Alex, since about the age of seven, or some such thing. Strictly friends. Then one day, the switch flipped and suddenly they were hot for each other and going at it like sex-starved bunn—” Her eyes bulged once more. “Wow, I am really out of line today. That’s usually Lola’s department. And here you just went through a Sexual Harassment course.”

Maxi reached for her sandwich, as though keeping her mouth full was the best way for her to keep from crossing any lines.