If the Stiletto Fits...

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 voice of his sent ripples of tension through the bodies of most people. But then that was a good thing. He was on her side, after all.

And she was lucky to have him. He was the premier assistant on either coast. He’d managed the business interests of Grammy winners, top executives, A-list directors. And now her.

He also loved and respected his mother. How cute was that?

In fact, his mother was the reason Lily had had the invaluable James to run her business for the last nine months. She was a big lover of the theater, and James’s parents were award-winning stage actors. She’d attended one of their plays and waited outside the stage door afterward like a starstruck fan to get their autographs.

She and the vibrant, free-spirited Fedora Chamberlin had become instant friends. One day over lunch, she’d shared her desperation to find someone to manage her growing business, and, lo and behold, Fedora’s only child, James, was the answer. At the time he’d been working in L.A., and his mother had been looking for a way to lure him back to New York.

James had ditched the temperamental director he’d been working for and shown up at her door with his professionalism, sharp mind and patience for her occasional—okay, maybe frequent—mood swings and lack of organizational skills. Because of him, Lily Reaves Shoes had become a sensation. Because of him, she’d landed the Spring Spectacular. In just a few weeks, three of the hottest clothing designers in the city were being featured in a star-studded fashion show. And each and every model would be wearing shoes she’d designed.

“Fine. Just get back to me later today.” He hung up the phone and glanced at her. “So, how did it go?”

She stood, propping her foot on the chair so he could see the stilettos. “Great, huh?”

“Look damn uncomfortable to me.”

“I’m not asking you to wear them.”

She cast a sideways glance at him, mildly annoyed he hadn’t even complimented her trim bolero jacket and slim skirt with matching butterfly appliqués. One of the Spectacular designers had sent the outfit to her after she’d sent several large-size shoes to his sister. In a city overflowing with overpriced clothes, a girl had to find bargains where she could.

Of course, James zeroed in on the bottom line. Not her hair, which she fought with on a daily basis. Or her clothes, or her legs, which the production manager had seemed most impressed by.

He studied them a moment, his gray eyes narrowed in concentration. “The craftsmanship is excellent. I like the sheen of the leather. The design is decent.”

Gushy was not the word to describe James. But then, she paid him for organization and managerial direction, not compliments. Lily plopped back in the chair, smoothing her skirt and crossing her legs. “Where’s Garnet?”

“Lunch.”

“For how long?”

He glanced at the antique brass clock on the wall. “Too long. As usual.”

“Did you check her feet?”

“Yes.”

“If I catch her wearing just one more pair…”

James sighed, looking completely unconvinced by her warning tone. “I know, you’re going to fire her.”

“Why did I hire her again?”

“Because one of your most important clients asked you to.”

“He begged, remember?” Recalling yesterday, when her sneaky receptionist had sneaked to a club with a pair of pumps Lily had designed for a special display window in Bloomingdale’s, she sighed. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

“You won’t fire her, Lily.”

“Sure I will.”

“Prove it.”

Smiling, she leaned forward. “I do believe you’re trying to goad me, James Chamberlin.”

He lifted his hands, palms out. “Would I do that?”

“Sometimes I think you’d do just about anything to see Garnet sail out that door for the last time.”

“With your shoes on her feet, don’t forget.”

Leaning on his desk, she propped her hands underneath her chin. Garnet had potential; she just needed direction. And focus. And ambition. Lily had had all those things when she’d first come to the city and she still struggled with her confidence sometimes. “Her father helped me out at a time when I really needed orders.”

“I know. I was only kidding.” He paused. “Sorta.”

“Garnet just needs some direction. Weren’t you ever young and aimless?”

“No.”

Studying his perfectly serious face, she could imagine that was true. James not only always knew where he was going, he knew three different ways to get there and had the entire trip clocked in hours, days, weeks, miles to go and expected weather forecast.

Lily had glanced at his daily agenda once and had immediately been nightmarishly transported back to eighth-grade social studies when she was expected to write essays with mind-boggling Roman numbers, bibliographies, indexes, even footnotes. And everything indented and lined up to perfection. The thought still gave her the chills.

“Can you at least talk to her again about my phone messages?” he asked. “She has no system. Some she writes down—on pink pads that she’s also doodled little hearts all over. Some she e-mails me—though she usually transposes or leaves off numbers. Some she actually manages to send to voice mail—though usually to your mailbox instead of mine.”

“I’ll talk to her,” she promised. Though most of the inner workings of computers mystified her—and, frankly, sometimes intimidated her—e-mailing was like socializing. That was a concept she understood. “Did you get the contracts for the Spectacular yet?”

James held up the stack of papers in front of him. “Right here.”

Lily pressed her lips together, hesitating to ask the question that had plagued her since she’d been offered the job. “And my name’s really on them?”

He pushed the contracts toward her. “Of course it is.”

Though she clearly saw her name at the top, her eyes crossed at all the wherefortos, therefores and such. “Does everything look okay?”

“There are some phrases I’m asking them to alter, but other than that, everything is in order.”

Looking up, she met his gaze. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?”

“Lily, you earned this. They came to us, remember?”

She shook her head. She’d been floundering in mediocre-ville before he’d arrived. Her only break had been two years ago, when an Oscar-nominated actress had broken the heel of her shoe just before walking down the red carpet and had grabbed the ones her assistant wore—a pair Lily had designed. An industry buzz had ensued, but one she hadn’t capitalized on until James arrived.

This year, he’d contacted the right people in L.A. and arranged for her to work with several Hollywood stylists to design dozens of shoes for entertainers attending the awards shows. Lily could hardly wait for the broadcasts to see which ones made the cut.