When Staci Takes Charge (Leave Your Shoes On 2)

Clicking her way through folders, she found what she was looking for—the most recent focus group statistics and findings. She scanned the reports and immediately deduced that Maxi really had hit upon a serious problem facing the stiletto wearers of the world.

While Staci Kay Shoes rated off the charts for style and variety, they scored notably low in the comfort zone.

Closing out of the drive, Staci brought up the Internet and extensively Googled the matter of women and their pumps.

Apparently, it was a rampant concern in the world of podiatry. In fact, she discovered one stat that claimed over a hundred-thousand high heel-related injuries had occurred in the past year.

Staci frowned. She’d spent half of her life in high heels. Had gotten used to three and four inchers early on, so that they didn’t really cause much trouble or pain. But she’d fallen in love with the taller shoes. And suffered from the obsession.

She and Maxi weren’t the only ones.

So…what to do about it?

Staci’s main objectives had always been on the design of her shoes from a fashion standpoint, not the comfort or even the safety aspects.

Suddenly, she felt that was irresponsible on her part. Of course she cared about the health of her customers’ feet. And with skyscraping heels being bestsellers now, it was her duty to put as much thought and effort into a design that protected the feet as she put into the look of the shoes.

A new quest.

One she happily latched onto. Maybe it’d keep her night with Nick out of her mind.

She continued her research into the evening, ordering in dinner. Around eight o’clock, she came to the concrete conclusion that she needed an expert on her side.

And, aha! There he was!

Dr. Evan Hart.

A renowned podiatrist and quite revered, according to the net. Podiatric surgeon extraordinaire. Currently on staff at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.

Perfect!

She found his Wikipedia page and perused it, his complicated professional accreditations going well over her head.

A horrible candid shot accompanied all the articles he’d written—and which had been written about him, especially when he was honored with this or that award for his stellar work.

The photo had been shot from across the room, making it difficult to really discern the man’s features. He was somewhat nerdy looking, with thick-lensed glasses so that she couldn’t even tell what color his eyes were. He wore a dress shirt and tie, and a white lab coat that was a size too big. He had cropped, tamed hair. He didn’t smile.

His bio said he was thirty-five this year. In actuality, he didn’t look that age. Rather, he looked more around mid to late twenties, which made her wonder how old the picture was. She guessed he wasn’t the type to update his images—especially since there weren’t any others available online that zoomed in on him.

But none of that really mattered. It didn’t even matter that he was on the stuffy side.

All Staci thought of was that Dr. Evan Hart could be a saving grace.

Since it was in her nature to be one step ahead of potential trouble—precisely the reason she’d sought help from brilliant problem solver Ryan Donovan when she’d suspected there’d be a manufacturing issue with the surge in sales last fall—she shot off a concise, professional introduction to the good doc via email. Not fully explaining her conflict, just vaguely mentioning she was interested in discussing advancements in high-heeled shoes and requesting he call her at his earliest convenience.

A triumphant smile tugged at Staci’s lips. It was genius, really, to get a surgeon of this magnitude and recognition behind her shoes.

She hoped to hear from him soon because Staci was certain that once Dr. Evan Hart learned of her new plight, he would not pass up working with her.

Chapter Six

You have got to be shitting me.

Evan stared at his email, removing his glasses and blinking a few times, hoping he really wasn’t seeing what he was seeing. Staci Kay from Staci Kay Shoes had sent him an email, asking that he call her. The owner of a shoe company.

Naturally, his curiosity got the better of him, and while he ate a late dinner at his desk, he Googled Staci Kay Shoes.

And spewed a mouthful of Pellegrino all over his computer screen.