If the Stiletto Fits.... Wendy EtheringtonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Dear Reader,
Don’t you just love shoes? The colors. The styles. The patterns. The most adorable pair of pink, polka-dotted, four-inch—Sorry, I digress. But I do think there’s something magical with women and shoes. It’s long been a stereotype. But for me, still true. So, along came Lily….
Lily and I shared this common bond of shoe loving, as well as a tendency to be dramatic, so we created shoes for this story together. (The IRS should take special note of my “research” budget for this particular project.) We decided that only one thing was better than having a job as a successful shoe designer….
That was to have a hunky, patient assistant like James Chamberlin at your beck and call. Especially one who understands the delicate balance between income and expenses.
I hope you enjoy James and Lily’s story. Visit my Web site at www.wendyetherington.com or write to P. O. Box 3016, Irmo, SC 29063 anytime to get information on new releases.
Happy reading!
Wendy Etherington
“What have I done to you? You’re the one who was sitting there looking all cute and irresistible and sexy.”
Lily clamped her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t just admitted that.
James grinned. Then, as if he remembered who she was—and who he was—he shook his head. “I think we’ve moved into a strange area here.”
With her hand still over her mouth in case she said anything else embarrassing, she nodded.
He stood up, then walked across the room and toward the office door. “I refuse to let this mess up my agenda. I have plans for my life, a schedule to keep, and you’re not on it.” He walked through the door, slamming it behind him.
Lily flinched. A marriage proposal from one guy and skid marks on her lips from another. Dating in the twenty-first century was just too damn complicated.
If the Stiletto Fits…
Wendy Etherington
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wendy Etherington was born and raised in the deep South—and she has the fried chicken recipes to prove it. Though a voracious reader since childhood, she spent much of her professional life in business and computer pursuits. Finally giving in to those creative impulses, she began writing, and in 1999 she sold her first romantic comedy. She’s an active member of Romance Writers of America and has been a finalist for the Georgia Romance Writers’ prestigious Maggie Award. She writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband and two daughters.
Books by Wendy Etherington
HARLEQUIN DUETS
76—MY PLACE OR YOURS?
93—CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE
HUNKA HUNKA BURNIN’ LOVE
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
944—PRIVATE LIES
958—ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT?
To my editor, Jennifer Green, who guided me through this book with patience, style and class.
CONTENTS
1
LILY REAVES STROLLED through the door of her Manhattan office, still admiring her new shoes. One-of-a-kind Lily’s. Would celebrities someday say her name with the same reverence they did Manolo or Prada?
Well, maybe she wasn’t in their league yet, but she was definitely on her way. Had she, a girl who’d grown up on a farm just outside Des Moines, really made a success of her life in the big city? Sometimes the very idea took her breath away.
She examined her reflection in the gilded, floor-to-ceiling mirror on the reception-area wall. The pale yellow ankle-strap stilettos with pink rhinestone butterfly accents she wore would be one of the standouts of her spring collection.
As she started down the hall that led to the rest of the offices and the workroom where she did her designing, she noted that the chair behind the black marble, semicircle receptionist’s desk was empty. A glance at her watch—a “five-dolla” one off a street vendor on Sixth Avenue—proved it was in fact the middle of the day.
She shook her head. Where was that girl? Again.
After dropping her purse onto the chair, Lily strode down the wooden-floored hallway toward her assistant/business manager’s office. James Chamberlin sat at his always-neat mahogany desk, making notes with his favorite pen as he held the phone between his ear and shoulder. Not a dark brown hair was out of place, and though he’d removed his suit jacket, his navy tie and white dress shirt were in place and pressed to perfection.
“I know, but you’ll have to shuffle those. The Spectacular gets top priority.”
He paused, listening, and waved her to the chair opposite his desk.
“Did you use the organizational model I gave you last week?” He paused again, raising his eyebrows. “Well, maybe that’s the problem.”
That controlled, measured, I’m-in-charge-here