What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)

Hmm. Very odd.

Chocolate-covered strawberries should be the last thing to pop into her brain—and why the hell was she thinking of them while studying Einstein’s devilishly handsome face?

Come on, Maxi. Get it together.

She focused on his glasses, because they encapsulated his clearly studious, if not somewhat nerdy, disposition. A safer depiction of the man, rather than the temptation of what he attempted to disguise with his scholarly nature and tailored business suit. Really, rugged looks but soft, warm skin and well-maintained nails? All very contradictory. Which enthralled her.

But Maxi couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. She said, “I wasn’t expecting a guest. Are you sure you’re in the correct room?”

“Absolutely. Ms. Kay signed the new employee paperwork and had it couriered to HR earlier, since she’s offsite today. I just wrapped up my end of the legalities and became your Director of Operations as of, oh”—he consulted his watched—“twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds ago.”

Maxi’s brow furrowed. A what the hell are you talking about? comment died on her lips as Avril whipped out her iPhone and then nodded sharply.

“Yep,” Avril confirmed. “HR just forwarded all the documents to you via e-mail and copied me. It’s official.”

“But I never even interviewed you,” Maxi contended.

“My apologies. Ms. Kay has been courting me—for strictly professional purposes—the past few months. My last consulting job just ended so, with all the production issues happening here, I’m more than happy to step into a permanent role to help you shore the defenses, as it were.”

Maxi’s head spun. She wasn’t quite sure what put her in a sudden daze. The fact that Staci had hired a director and Maxi knew nothing about it—or said director’s incredibly sexy voice.

Not that she should be surprised Staci already had something in the works for the vacated post and they hadn’t yet had a chance to discuss the candidate. For God’s sake, Maxi had only been VP for three days. She was still getting her arms wrapped around her own position. And with all the hoopla happening right now—not to mention all of the divisions involved in the calamity—she and Staci hadn’t spent more than fifteen minutes together last week.

Furthermore, she should not be stalled out over Dr. Ryan Donovan’s low, intimate tone and spine-tingling accent.

What the hell was happening there?

“So I was wondering,” Einstein cut into her wayward thoughts. “Would it be all right if I just dove right in and showed you the in-depth analysis I’ve pulled together, along with the strategic initiatives—low-hanging fruit, if you will—that I’ve identified to temporarily pick up our production 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 operations for the long haul.”

Maxi stared at him. “Analysis… Initiatives… Fruit…?”

“Sure.” He gave a half-grin. “Might as well get a jump start on the problem, eh?”

“Agreed,” she slowly said, her mind still reeling.

“Great,” Avril chimed in and made another move for the mission statement folders.

Maxi gave a sharp shake of her head. Avril caught on quickly and discreetly shoved the box under the table and out of sight with her foot.

Phew. Good save.

Maxi’s 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 said, “Now, 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 at a slightly less employee base and market outreach and three at a bit higher level of employees and outreach, that our production is significantly lower than all comps I’ve used and assessed.”

“That’s because we’re currently understaffed,” Maxi pointed out, feeling a touch territorial of her division and not exactly thrilled Einstein was suddenly taking over with his two-inches of documentation and colorful charts she could see from where she stood as the others hastily flipped through the pages.

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

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

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

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Donovan.”

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