What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)

Excitement raced through Lola as reality sank in. After three years with the company, she’d finally made it into Marketing.

Todd Connelly, the VP she’d cornered outside the men’s room in Baltimore, introduced her to the team. Then he explained, “We meet every morning to discuss the projects we’re working on.” They took seats at a conference table, along with six others. “That way we’re all on the same page, can coalesce resources if need be, and coordinate scheduling with our ad agency.”

Her excitement escalated, and Lola all but vibrated in her chair. She’d been assigned the Web campaign she’d pitched, and Connelly had told her when he’d moved her into the position that it was the biggest project the department would focus on this quarter.

Her brainchild.

The team went around the table, giving their various progress reports and updating charts on the whiteboards mounted to the walls. Lola’s turn came last. All eyes landed on her. And the shrewd scrutiny from her colleagues did not go unnoticed by Lola.

She was the outsider who’d invaded their turf.

Since Lola didn’t have an actual update at this point, Connelly said, “I’ve already tasked everyone with finding creative ways to take your concept to the next level.”

Huh?

The corners of her mouth dipped. She went a bit cold. She glanced around the table at the unyielding gazes, her stomach suddenly knotting.

Sophisticated Sarah tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder and said, “The take-charge-in-stilettos female executive and lover concept is fierce and fantastic, but the static campaign is much too passive.” Her voice held a note of listen and learn, newb. “We need edgy trailers so that when someone mouses over an ad, Staci comes strolling across their computer screen, yanking viewers’ attention as she shows off her sexy shoes.”

“While promoting the empowerment of women,” studious-looking Jen added, hitching her chic glasses up her nose.

Metrosexual Mark jumped in. “We need more than just Staci in the ads. We need diversity—women of all shapes and sizes, different ethnicities and ages. We’re not just selling stilettos. We manufacture boots, sandals, flats, et cetera. Staci Kay shoes are a statement piece that should be a staple accessory for the full female demographic. We don’t appeal to everyone with the current concept.”

Before Lola could get a word in, the group erupted with conversation, throwing out a dozen ideas she’d never even considered.

Lola stared at the enthusiastic team with wide eyes, thoroughly crushed and wondering what in hell she knew about marketing, anyway.

So much for her dream of becoming the manager’s mentee. She could kiss that job good-bye. No way could she compete with the more seasoned staff members. Regardless of how passionate she was about Staci Kay shoes.

For God’s sake… it’d be a miracle if she lasted a second day in her new position.

* * *

“What’s all this?” Lola asked as she came through the door of Alex’s condo. She inhaled the aromatic scent of Italian sausage and peppers, which helped to lighten her sullen mood a bit.

Alex was at the stove, stirring the contents in a saucepan. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Pasta bolognese, to celebrate your promotion.”

She eyed him curiously. “You don’t eat pasta bolognese. Too spicy for you.”

He shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to the pot. “It’s your favorite.”

Lola set the bag containing her new department-issued laptop next to the foyer table. She stripped off her suit jacket and hung it over the back of a stool. Alex had wine waiting. She reached for one of the glasses on the counter and took a sip.

“Oh, wow, that’s nice.”

“Sangiovese.”

She stared at his broad back, covered by a robin’s-egg blue dress shirt because he hadn’t changed out of his work clothes, and frowned. “How long are you sticking with the economy of words?”

He spared another glance her way. “I’m cooking.”

Her gaze slid over him and her frown deepened. He still wore his tie and platinum watch. His sleeves were gathered at the wrists and secured with cufflinks. He was back to meticulous Alex. The man in control of his emotions and his life.

Hmm. That just wouldn’t do. She wanted unraveled Alex back. Especially after her hellaciously disastrous day, where she’d pretty much done nothing but trip all over herself and prove she was as green as grass. She needed a distraction. More than that, she was still wrapped around the axle over the way Alex had looked at her last night.

Taking her jacket from the bar stool, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

She headed into her room and ditched the suit. Kept the purple Mary Janes on, though.