Feet First. Leanne Banks

my name is Jenny,” she corrected with a little more bite in her voice than she’d intended.

      He finally met her gaze. “Jenny,” he repeated, and gave her a once-over. “Sorry.”

      “Uh-huh,” she said in a noncommittal tone and placed the sketches she’d drawn for evening shoes on his desk.

      He glanced at the drawings, then back at her. Then back to the drawings. He looked at her again. “Excuse me, but are you doing something different with your hair or something? You look different.”

      “Yes,” she said, and felt suddenly self-conscious. She nodded toward the sketches. “Which do you like the best?”

      “I like it this way,” he said.

      “Excuse me?”

      “Your hair. I like it down.” He furrowed his eyebrows as if he couldn’t quite figure out what else was different.

      Feeling a quick rush of adrenaline, she decided to let him figure it out for himself. “The shoes,” she said, pointing at the sketches. “Which do you like the best?”

      He glanced down at the sketches. “This one,” he said of the cutout velvet pump. “But this one has potential, too,” he said of the red strappy leather sandal with a stiletto heel. “Good start,” he said, and looked up at her again.

      She felt his gaze linger on her mouth, then lower to where the sweater’s top two buttons were undone to reveal a glimpse of her cleavage. Another rush of adrenaline mixed with self-consciousness. She automatically reached to adjust her glasses, but they weren’t there, so she pushed her hair behind her ear instead.

      “I’ll sketch some more,” she said.

      “Good id—” He broke off when the intercom buzzed and picked up the phone. “Brooke. Okay, I’ll take it.”

      “Hi, Brooke,” he said.

      Jenny could hear a feminine tone, but no words.

      “Uh-huh,” he said. “And when is this?” His mouth tightened. “Short notice, Brooke. Okay, okay,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you want Sal’s assistant there, too. Yeah. See you there.” He hung up the phone. “Brooke wants us to come to a party at the house Saturday night. It’s a prereality show gathering before the cameras start rolling. She says it’s mandatory.” He paused. “It’s glasses. You used to wear glasses.”

      He seemed pleased with himself, as if he’d solved a puzzle. “Yes, I did. What time is the party?”

      He stood, still staring at her. “Eight o’clock. When did you get contacts?”

      “I’ve had them. I misplaced my glasses, so I had to wear the contacts today. Do you know what the dress will be for the party?”

      “You should misplace your glasses more often,” he said in a deep voice that did something weird to her tummy. “You have amazing eyes.”

      “Thank you. So do you,” she blurted without thinking, immediately horrified.

      His gorgeous eyes widened with surprise. “I do?”

      She felt the temperature in her face rise at least fifteen degrees. She figured she’d turned tomato red and that made her feel very grumpy. “Yes, of course you do. Just like you have gorgeous hair and awesome bone structure and a killer body, but you already knew that, so I’m sure I’m providing unnecessary duplicates of the information.”

      He blinked. “Thank you, I think.”

      “You’re welcome,” she said as briskly as she could. “What type of dress for the party?”

      “Cocktail,” he said, his gaze still on her like radar on a car clocking 95 in a 55 mph zone.

      “Okay, thanks for your time,” she said, and scooped up her sketches. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday night.”

      “Sure. Don’t you need directions to the house?” he asked.

      “Good point,” she said, eager to get out of the room. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? Hadn’t she wanted him to notice her? But her heart was beating too fast, and she felt out of her depth. “Could your assistant e-mail them to me?”

      “Yes, that’ll work. How’s your car?”

      Oh, no, now he was being nice again. She immediately slowed and met his gaze. “It’s fine. Thank you for asking. It was the battery. Thank you again for helping me out.” She bit her lip. “I put a little something on your desk as a token of my gratitude.”

      He glanced down and saw the leather box and opened it. His lips tilted in a smile. “Peppermint patties.”

      “Your emergency stash,” she said.

      He looked at her, and she felt the flicker of understanding shimmer between them, as if they were both on a secret team. Her heart stuttered.

      “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time a woman gave me candy.”

      Oh, no. Did he think she was flirting with him with peppermint patties? Coming on to him? Which she would if she knew how. But this was really just a thank-you. She’d thought it was, anyway. Jenny bit her lip and strained to dream up a flirty comeback. “Maybe that will make them taste even better,” she managed, surprising herself.

      “Maybe,” he said, and she saw the slightest spark of sexual challenge in his eyes. “You’ll need to keep me well supplied.”

      Feeling as if she were stepping into untried waters, she resisted the urge to back out. “I’ll have to find out what your appetite is. For peppermint patties.”

      “Yeah, you will.”

      Her throat swelling from the tension, she decided to run before she did something stupid. She cleared her throat. “I’ll do that. Thanks again for your time, and please don’t forget to have your assistant send me the directions to the party.”

      “Will do. Thanks again for the candy.”

      “You’re welcome,” she said, and felt his gaze on her as she exited his office. Holding her breath until she reached her office, she closed the door behind her and sank against it.

      Omigoodness, Marc Waterson had actually looked at her and even kinda flirted with her. Her heart was still racing, and she knew her face looked as if she’d spent the day in the sun.

      A dozen thoughts raced through her head. Okay, so this Marc Waterson thing had been a fun, unrequited fantasy like Huey Lewis. Did she really want to make it come true? And sheesh, were men really so superficial that they couldn’t notice a woman until she raised her hemline and took off her glasses? Ridiculous, she thought, frowning in disgust.

      Right, her conscience prodded her. And was she so superficial that she noticed Marc Waterson because of his bone structure and body?

      Jenny mentally stuck her tongue out at herself and decided to call Chad. Whether or not she had the guts to go through with her fantasy with Marc, she would still need some help getting ready for the cocktail party.

      Two hours later she got ready to leave work, and her e-mail alert went off. She checked her in-box and found a message from Marc. “J—No need for both of us to drive. I’ll pick you up at 7:45 p.m.—M”

      AFTER SPENDING THREE HOURS shopping with Chad on Saturday, Jenny was still grumbling as the two entered her apartment. “The hem is way too short. I’m going to end up hurting someone in those spike-heeled sandals. You wait and see.”

      Chad gave a bad boy smile. “That might not be all bad. Maybe VP guy is into a little S&M. Besides, you’re wearing a jacket. The color is dark purple instead of the red I chose. You could almost wear this as a business suit.”

      “If I were a hooker,” she retorted in disbelief. She was so nervous she was considering canceling.

      “I