What Maxi Needs (Leave Your Shoes On 3)

While she waited for the first batch to kick out of the copier, her mind fixated on that disconcerting thought of perhaps having failed her parents.

Despite the restaurant being in good hands with Josh and Troy, Maxi had caught the occasional flashes of disappointment in her mother’s eyes because shoes were Maxi’s obsession, not serving seafood. And even though Maxi was proud of all that her family had accomplished and the awesome reputation of Shaynes’ by the Sea, being surrounded by lobster tails and crab claws all day wasn’t her idea of professional bliss.

Sometimes she thought that made her selfish. Those were the days when she’d drop into the popular dining establishment, order a bowl of the creamiest clam chowder known to mankind, and hold her moans in check while she simply observed the smooth operations.

Sure, on occasion, one would hear the loud crash of water glasses sliding off a tray. Or witness the confusion created by an inexperienced food expeditor not setting up the meals correctly for delivery, so that the server had to ask who’d requested what, rather than being able to dole out the orders without interrupting conversations to make sure each customer received the proper plate.

Sometimes the hostess screwed up reservations and gave away a special table. Now and then a bartender served up the wrong drinks.

All of that was to be expected. What Maxi liked about those little screw-ups was the fact that the staff always dealt efficiently and amicably with the mishaps. No massive drama, arguments, you-fucked-up-not-me tiffs. Just a few shrugs, lighthearted jokes, and the unwavering attitude that they would all work together to do whatever had to be done to fix the goofs.

Maxi had learned a lot about managing operations just by sitting back and watching what went on at a successful, busy, high-end restaurant.

Yes, she often wondered if all of that knowledge she’d gleaned on her own, without disrupting family progress, was meant to be used within the walls of Shaynes’ by the Sea. But then she thought of the spare bedroom in her condo, the closet of which was lined with Staci Kay shoes, and knew that even if she’d put her all into the restaurant, it wouldn’t satisfy her the way working for Staci did.

And, luckily, her brothers were wholly committed to carrying on the Shayne tradition in Columbia, Maryland.

So, as usual, Maxi temporarily pushed aside her never-ending guilt to concentrate on her current task.

She grabbed a box of binders and spread twenty of them on the two six-foot tables in the far corner that were meant for the assembly of materials. She’d sent twenty copies of the full-color binder cover and spine to the printer and quickly eased them into the plastic sheaths on the notebooks.

Then she started collecting the packets from the copier and placing them within the D-rings of the binders. She was halfway through her project when she spun around to get more documents—and ran smack into Ryan.

“Umph!” She let out a small cry as she slammed into him, then sort of bounced off his hard chest and staggered backward.

Ryan quickly gripped her upper arms to steady her. “Sorry about that.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, the air rushing from her lungs. Not just from the surprise encounter; mostly it was just him that stole her breath.

“I sent pages to the printer and need to run them off for our four o’clock meeting.”

“I meant, what were you doing standing so close to me?” And why the hell did he ma

ke it so difficult for her to inhale properly?

“Oh, that.” He released her now that she was stable on her feet and hitched his glasses a notch. The very specs she’d removed from his devastatingly handsome face Monday night to reveal—and get the full effect of—his smoldering eyes. “Thought I’d lend a hand.”

“I’m almost done,” she said and moved past him to the large machine cranking out the remainder of her documents.

“Well, that’s convenient, because I’ve got an enormous job and didn’t want to tie up the smaller machines in the other copy room.”

“Why isn’t Avril helping you with this?” she asked.

“Why isn’t Avril helping you?” he countered, with a crooked brow.

“I figured you’d need her.”

He grinned. “She’s your executive assistant, Maxi.”

“Who’s also filling in for your assistant this week, Ryan.”

“Well,” he said as he closed the gap between them and then some—backing her up against the mammoth-sized copier. “Guess we’ve returned to me offering to help, since Avril’s not here.”

“Like I said,” Maxi contended, all breathy, chest rising and falling sharply. “I’ll be done in a few minutes. You can take over the tables if you need the extra space.”

“I do. Thank you.” He stared down at her. Intently. Heatedly.

Christ, why did her body burn with his nearness alone?