What Maxi Needs

by Calista Fox

Ryan hadn’t considered working for a burgeoning shoe empire to be the height of his professional career—he’d consulted for NASA and the Climate Prediction Center, among other agencies. But once he’d delved into preliminary research because Staci was one incredibly tenacious force of nature that couldn’t be sidestepped, he’d realized there was a world of opportunity to solve problems within her organization and keep himself so busy that he didn’t think about Dr. Elizabeth Sherman, DC’s premier gynecologist.

  Aka the ex.

  He fired up the computer that wasn’t old, but was nowhere near his own state-of-the-art equipment, or what he was accustomed to having access to when on the job.

  He waited for the machine to boot up. Avril had pointed out the break room on their way to his office, and he wondered if he should head off for a cup of coffee while he waited for the system to engage.

  A couple of minutes passed, and the Staci Kay Shoes logo dissolved into a Windows desktop. Not an operating system he was expertly versed in, but it wasn’t difficult to move through the initial screens that launched, which Avril had indicated he’d see.

  He breezed through all of the applications and modules before noon, even though they were quite extensive. With nothing more to do at the moment, he left his office and ventured around the open area of cubicles occupied by Operations staff, introducing himself to those at their workstations. Across the way was Maxi’s office. He stepped into the private corridor, but didn’t find Avril at her desk to inquire if Maxi was available. The assistant was likely out to lunch.

  Ryan moved to the opened doorway and rapped his knuckles on the frame. “Anyone home?”

  The tall, plush white chair behind a massive glass-topped desk spun around. Maxi stared in horror at him, her big blue eyes popping wide. One hand flew to her apparently very full mouth, if the chipmunk cheeks were any indication. The other held a mammoth sandwich, with hot pastrami and Swiss cheese oozing out the sides and dripping onto the paper in which it was nestled.

  “Ah,” Ryan mused with a grin. “Caught you mid-bite.”

  “I was just—” She shook her head, chewed voraciously, then swallowed hard. “Trying to squeeze in lunch with some work.”

  “My apologies for interrupting—yet again. I was actually going to invite you out so that we could chat. Get to know each other. Talk about the division.”

  “Fantastic idea. I figured we’d get to it tomorrow since you have all of the training and whatnot to wade through today.”

  “I’m done,” he told her.

  Maxi’s eyes grew even wider, though he wouldn’t have believed it possible were he not a witness to the phenomenon.

  “Already?” she asked, clearly stunned. “You even took the quizzes?”

  “Passed all sixteen with flying colors, including the Sexual Harassment course that did not address whether it was acceptable for me to let you know that you have a little, um, mustard…at the corner of your mouth.”

  Her extremely tempting mouth.

  Her perfectly plump lips held the remnants of a glossy sheen but were otherwise a deep rose color, which looked striking against her tanned skin and complemented her smoky eyes.

  Ryan had the insane urge to cross the room and whisk that tiny dollop from her mouth. Sample it to see how spicy the mustard tasted. Or perhaps he just wanted to know how Maxi tasted. Feel how velvety soft those lips were.

  His cock twitched.

  Down, boy.

  He reminded himself that he wasn’t into risky endeavors. And his electrifying new boss held the potential to be just that.

  Her tongue darted out and she licked at the corners of her mouth—really, that just plain teased him senseless—then used both hands to set the enormous sandwich on the paper plate on her desk. She reached for the small stack of napkins and used one to wipe her fingers, then her mouth.

  “You’re all good with the mustard,” he assured her.

  “You keep catching me off-guard.” Her eyes smoldered.

  Was it his imagination or did she enjoy him catching her unawares—perhaps adding a little excitement to her day?

  Right. He mentally snickered.

  Ryan did not consider himself the type to excite a woman like Maxi Shayne.

  Though as he held her gaze, she shifted in her chair, crossing her legs tightly as though he actually had incited some sort of physical response within her. Could it be true?

  Continuing, she said, “I think you’ve set some sort of company record.”

  “Oh?” He stepped farther into her office, driven by curiosity and testosterone.

  She grabbed her fountain soda from its glass coaster and took a deep sip from the straw poking out of the lid. She replaced the Styrofoam cup as she added, “Our New Employee Orientation and training segments are usually all-dayers.”

  “Hmm. Well, it was all quite informative.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “And I likely had a bell curve in my favor, since I know Staci.”

  Her brow dipped. “How, exactly, do you know her?” She gave a shake of her head as she amended, “I don’t mean anything personal by that. I don’t want or need to know how you know her, know her. But just…how’d the job offer come about?” She groaned. Then let out a soft, feminine—genuine—laugh that stirred something deep within him. “That didn’t sound right either. I’m just trying to fill in some blanks. No judgment or anything.”

  “There’s nothing to judge. We’re not romantically involved, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not directly, anyway. Her former physician is my former fiancée. As it were…” He shrugged. Really, what was the point in divulging all of that? Because it was personal—extremely personal.

  Ryan never spoke of his past relationship, and Maxi certainly didn’t need to hear about Elizabeth. Or how she’d ripped the rug from beneath him. Blindsided him. Proverbially cold-cocked him. Whichever description one chose, it’d all been pretty damn painful.

  Devastating, to be honest.

  Absolutely not a topic up for discussion.

  Maxi sighed. “My condolences on the broken engagement.”

  She gave him a compassionate look. As though she’d been there herself?

  Fool on anyone who’d let a woman like her slip away. He barely even knew her and yet he felt a bit tight around the collar in her presence, as he had in the conference room when she’d gazed up at him with hope and exhilaration in her beautiful, glimmering eyes.

  In fact, just like earlier, he wouldn’t have minded loosening his tie and undoing a few buttons. Maybe then he’d be able to breathe a little easier around this woman. Not get fixated on her lips or her legs. Because all that did was make his cock thicken. Very unexpected, for someone who was usually so in control of his physical responses.

  Opting for a quick, clean exit, he told her, “I’ll let you finish your lunch. I’ll check your schedule with Avril for tomorrow and—”

  “No time like the present for us to chat,” Maxi contended.

  He hedged. It’d be wise for him to back out of the office and better prepare himself for a one-on-one with Maxi. He could smell the hint of her floral perfume and it heightened his arousal. Not a good thing.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” she suggested. “I’ll hack off half of this monstrosity of a sandwich for you. I only took a bite on one side and my fingers never touched the rest of it. There’s a tub of coleslaw, too, that I won’t get through.”

  Ryan remained hesitant. Not exactly commonplace for him. He was accustomed to being hired to do massive research and provide solid solutions to whatever issue his clients faced. But, again, this environment was not one he was used to—and he’d sure as hell never operated alongside a woman who turned his blood to magma.

  Come on, man. This is a job, not a date.

  He nearly snorted over that last word. Again, Ryan had no intention of dating. Not anytime soon. As in, why bother, what’s the point, and who would subject themselves to that kind of living hell, knowing the potential for ano
ther fucked-up outcome?

  But then Maxi smiled invitingly, and he strode closer to her desk.

  Still, he clung to his convictions. “I certainly wouldn’t want to impose.”

  And there was the matter of a raging hard-on developing.

  Because Maxi oozed raw sexuality—and didn’t even appear to know it. That made her all the more enticing.

  “Look at the size of this thing!” she declared.

  His pulse jumped.

  Alas, she wasn’t speaking of his erection. Her gaze was on the sandwich, and she gestured toward it with a manicured hand. “Pastrami piled a mile high. I always have leftovers, since my five brothers aren’t here to devour everything when I turn my back for two seconds.”

  Maxi shoved her chair away from the desk and stood, tugging at the hem of her skirt to bring it down the inch she’d lost when she’d crossed her legs. Ryan knew he should avert his eyes, but couldn’t muster the willpower.

  There was definitely something bizarre and unpredicted infiltrating his brain and sparking the endorphins.

  Maxi strolled over to the narrow wet bar built into the shelving units along the back wall. Ryan watched her every move. The woman had shapely hips that swayed provocatively. And all that silky-looking skin that he suddenly yearned to touch—

  Oh, for the love of God!

  What was wrong with him?

  His professional position with the company was about to become his personal torment.

  Yanking off his glasses, he used the lens-cleaning cloth that he kept tucked in the pocket of the inner panel of his suit jacket. Despite the glasses not holding a single smudge. But it was a way to, however briefly, alleviate his laser-focus on Maxi’s stunning body. Though just because she was now slightly blurry, way across the room, didn’t mean the crystal-clear image of her wasn’t burned into his brain.

  As he replaced his glasses, she asked over her shoulder, “Do you want bottled water or a soda?”

  “Water is fine. Thank you.”

  Maxi returned with his beverage, a knife, and an extra fork and plate. She sawed the sandwich in half, setting his portion before him, the cheese still dripping from all sides.

  She flipped the top off the coleslaw and dumped a heap onto her plate. She slid the container with the remainder toward him.

  “Bon appétit.” She grinned. Then dug into a forkful of the side dish before taking another hearty bite of her sandwich.

  Ryan was riveted. Elizabeth had been a delicate eater and one of those anal-retentive types who made sure nothing on her plate comingled. Everything sat in its own neat little pile, nothing touching anything else. And she only nibbled at one food group at a time. When she was done with one item, always after three dainty bites, she’d then move on to the next.

  Admittedly, it was a shame that she wasted so much food—and wouldn’t dream of passing any leftovers to Ryan. Elizabeth did not believe in sharing food or, God forbid, utensils. Not even when she was sleeping with the person with whom she was dining.

  He fought a scowl. Now that was the absolute last thing he wanted to think about—prim and proper Elizabeth in the bedroom. Touching Dr. Elizabeth Sherman was like handling a fragile glass sculpture. Hell, he was surprised she hadn’t insisted he put on white gloves first, before he hugged her or made love to her—on such rare occasions.

  Disgruntled by the memory and the inevitable why the hell did you stay with her for so long? that zoomed through his brain, he sank his teeth into the sandwich.

  “Sensational,” he said, around his full mouth.

  “I know, right? It’s from Fitch’s Deli. They deliver, for future reference. Their entire selection is astounding, but by far, they serve the best hot pastrami in Baltimore. I’d say along the Eastern Seaboard, but there’s this Lower East Side deli in New York that looks sort of cafeteria-ish but has—”

  “Katz’s Deli,” he interjected.

  “Yes! The most amazing—”

  “Pastrami Reuben,” they said in unison. And laughed.

  Maxi added, “The marbled rye just holds it all together perfectly.” She sighed euphorically, and it sent a bolt of excitement straight to Ryan’s cock. He bit back a groan.

  He wasn’t getting a single reprieve from his powerful attraction to her.

  She said, “The Reuben is what the deli should be famous for, not the fact that awesome scene from When Harry Met Sally… was shot there. Although, it really is one of the best scenes in the movie.”

  “Which one is that?” he asked, having no idea to what she referred—he’d heard of the movie but had never watched it. And was grateful for safe subject matter.

  Or so he thought…

  “Oh, come on. You know.” Her eyes lit and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk, engaging him fully. “It’s hugely famous. The scene where Harry is being all macho about his sexual prowess, and Sally proves to him how easy it is for women to fake an orga—um, never mind.” She sat back suddenly. Shook her head. As though she hadn’t considered the direction in which this conversation was about to go—and was relieved she’d brought it to an abrupt halt.

  She gave a sharp laugh that held no humor, though Ryan detected the undercurrent of sensuality to it.

  Maxi said, “That is so not appropriate workplace conversation.”

  She went back to her sandwich.

  Interestingly, Maxi’s cheeks didn’t redden. She didn’t succumb to a blush or heat creeping over her skin because of her slip. He found her fierce attitude appealing. And, indeed, sensed he wasn’t the only one feeling a rush of lust.

  Very interesting.

  Eyeing her closely, he said, “Trust me, I’m not easily offended. What happened in the movie?”

  Despite stepping farther into risky territory, he was captivated. Not over the film, per se, but Maxi’s depiction of it.

  “Well.” She wiped her hands again. Still not flushing, she said, “Sally goes into the throes of passion right there in the middle of the restaurant for everyone to see and hear, just to show Harry how easily women can fake it. Then a waiter turns to one of his customers for her order—an older lady—and she says something to the effect of wanting what Sally just had. Very clever. I once heard that the woman who played the customer was Rob Reiner’s mother, which makes it even more charming. He directed the movie. You haven’t seen it?”

  “No,” he said with a chuckle at her energetic disposition. He liked her immensely.

  “Definitely a must-see,” she assured him. “Not a total chick-flick, I promise. Well…that could be a lie. Still. Everyone should watch this movie. It’s a great representation of all the myths, the truths, and the convenient and complicated theories of platonic relationships either debunked or solidified, but certainly worthy of conversation over wine.”

  “I firmly believe men and women can be friends without sex being an issue.”

  He had several female friends from MIT that he never once considered sleeping with, after all.

  Maxi swallowed down some slaw, then said, “I’m on the fencepost. My dear friend Lola—she’s the one who came up with our fabulous ad campaign that you mentioned this morning—was best friends with this guy, Alex, since about the age of seven, or some such thing. Strictly friends. Then one day, the switch flipped and suddenly they were hot for each other and going at it like sex-starved bunn—” Her eyes bulged once more. “Wow, I am really out of line today. That’s usually Lola’s department. And here you just went through a Sexual Harassment course.”

  Maxi reached for her sandwich, as though keeping her mouth full was the best way for her to keep from crossing any lines.

  “Believe me, I’m not feeling harassed.” And the sudden drop in his tone, to a richer, fuller octave even he couldn’t miss, likely proved his point.

  Maxi flinched. Her legs squeezed tight again. Her breath hitched.

  Ha! There it was!

  He really did spark something inside her.

  Fascinated by her and the topic on
deck, even if it did make adrenaline pump in places that weren’t exactly couth to experience during the workday, he asked, “So you don’t fully believe in nonphysical relationships between men and women who are friends? What about the males employed by Staci Kay?”

  She gave a small shrug. “I wouldn’t consider them friends. We’re teammates. Colleagues. Associates. Whatever. Do we go to happy hour from time to time? Sure. As a group. But I don’t hang out with any of them alone, socially. It’s always about work.”

  His look was pointed as he said, “We’re colleagues having lunch together, but we’re not talking about work.”

  Maxi washed down another bite with her soda. Waving the cup in one hand and her sandwich in the other, she said, “Totally different.”

  “How so?”

  “First, we’re in my office, not at a restaurant or a bar or anyplace that could be considered social. Second, we’re supposed to be getting to know each other. For business-related purposes.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds. Her chest rose and fell faster than normal, he noted. Shallow pants of air escaped her parted lips. No mistaking she was a bit revved, a bit breathless.

  Ryan was a genius in several areas. Mostly mathematics and quantitative research. He was a fact collector who thrived on resolutions. Had an IQ well over one-sixty.

  His specialty was not the female persuasion. He’d proven that just recently when he’d allowed Elizabeth to jerk him around until she’d ripped his heart from his chest and had stomped all over it with her teeny-tiny, two-inch-heeled, pointy-tipped Louis Vuitton shoes.

  Yet he recognized an aroused woman when he saw one.

  So he challenged Maxi. Instinctively surmising she wouldn’t back down.

  “If you spend, let’s say for purposes of this discussion, fifty hours a week—at work—with someone of the opposite sex that you find attractive,” he paused a moment to see if she’d balk at the new course in which he took the conversation. When she didn’t, only quirked a brow at him with intrigue and perhaps a tinge of anticipation, he continued. “And you spend, oh, one night out for dinner and drinks during the week with someone you don’t work with but are seeing socially, and maybe a weekend night and into the next day—if the relationship has a sexual component—that time shared might accumulate to—”