What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)

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

Not a fucking chance.

At the end of the presentation—which left everyone in the room with glassed-over eyes, so 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 plummeted because she was sans workbook and had no idea what the others studied so intently. “I’m sorry… Gantt charts?”

What the hell?

“Yes,” Einstein said. “Um, you know… demonstrations of tactics, milestones, budgets, resources, etcetera, all extrapolated out to a comfort zone of 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 backstock 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. “Very good, Dr. Donovan. This has been quite… enlightening.”

Christ, her brain was about to explode.

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

“Fine. And I’m just Maxi.”

“Hardly.” His gaze slid over her, an appreciative look flashing in his rich brown eyes. “You are the very persona of sexy, sassy Staci Kay Shoes.”

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?