If the Stiletto Fits...

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

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

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

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

EPILOGUE

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 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.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” she said.

His lips tipped up on one side. “Well, I am the best…”

At the sight of his half smile, she blinked. James was so serious most of the time that it wasn’t until he actually brightened up that she realized how handsome he was. Not that he wasn’t attractive when he wasn’t smiling. He was. In a buttoned-up, conservative way.

Not her type, but then that was a good thing, since he’d made it very clear from the moment he’d come to work for her that their relationship was strictly business. Fine by her. She needed an assistant to keep her on schedule, to manage her contracts and business affairs, to work with her accountant on managing her money. Lovers she could find on her own.

Though mediocre-ville could probably also describe that area of her life at the moment. She either managed to find guys who wanted a passive, stay-at-home wife and a dozen kids, or one-night-stand louses.

“But only because of my long experience,” James finished. “You don’t need me as much as you think.”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

He gave her an odd look.

Before she could question him, though, a familiar voice echoed down the hall. “Hellooo…”

“She’s back.”

James’s eyes actually pleaded. “The messages?”

Lily rose and headed toward the door, enjoying the feel of the four-inch heels on her feet. Maybe she’d wear them on her date tonight. She did enjoy seeing a man goggle. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“I need to talk to you before you go out tonight.”

She stopped in the doorway. “What makes you think I’m going out? I could be staying in with a book and a soothing cup of tea.”

“Right. Even I’m going out tonight.”

“Out? Like a date?”

Raising his eyebrows, he leaned back in his chair. “I do have them occasionally.”

Lily recalled a brunette he’d brought to a cocktail party not long ago. The woman had been quiet and sweet—just the kind of date she’d expect James to choose. What was her name? Kate? Karly? Kelly. “Where are you and Kelly going?”

“I’m not going out with Kelly anymore. This is someone new.”

“Oh.” She waved. “Well, have fun.”

She headed down the hall and reached Garnet just as she was rounding the receptionist station.

“Look at the adorable bag I bought today.”

Despite her frustration, Lily had to smile. Garnet did have a great sense of fashion.

The bag looked just like a Chinese take-out carton, even down to the silver wire as a handle, except that the carton was covered in red-and-black satin. She took the bag, rubbing her fingers across the fabric. “It’s really great, Garnet, where—” She broke off as she recognized the small tag sewn on the bottom. “This is a Fabian LaRoche.”

Garnet took the bag back and danced around in a circle. “I know. Isn’t it the cutest!”

“This is a five-hundred-dollar bag. You don’t make that in a week.”

Garnet waved her hand and set the purse on her desk, admiring it like some people would a priceless artifact. “I put it on my AmEx. Daddy gets that bill.”

Lily opened her mouth automatically to advise her employee that she should take some responsibility for her own finances, but then remembered Garnet didn’t work for money. This was just her way of placating her father until she turned twenty-five and could get full control of her trust fund.

Raised in a strictly middle-class household, Lily wanted to pooh-pooh the excess. But this was the world she now lived in. She smiled. Ah, the sacrifices of living in the Big Apple.

Deciding a change of subject was in order, Lily leaned against Garnet’s desk. “We need to talk about phone messages.”

Garnet rolled her eyes. “Again?”

“James is having trouble getting accurate ones.”

“It’s not my fault! It’s that computer.” Garnet pointed to the screen beside her on the desk. Lowering her voice, she added, “It makes weird noises sometimes, and then I get this yellow exclamation-point thing and an error message.” She shuddered.

Lily shared her shudder. She’d seen that message. She glanced at the screen, which currently had a cartoon graphic of a pair of red stiletto pumps dancing across it—a creation by her friend and computer consultant, Gwen. And though she and Gwen could bond most any night over a favorite chardonnay, martini, movie or slice of gossip, she most certainly did not share her interest in technology.

“Hmm,” she said, trying to seem competent instead of intimidated. “That doesn’t sound good. I think James would prefer his messages e-mailed to him, or the caller transferred to his voice mail, if they’re agreeable. He’s not thrilled with pink message slips with little hearts drawn all over them.”

Garnet folded a piece of gum into her mouth. “He could stand to lighten up, you know.”

“I know. But he runs the office.”

“But you’re the boss, right? I mean, I like James and all.” She smacked her gum. “But women should stick together, don’t you think? I mean, you should understand that—you’re a total feminist, so—Hey, cool shoes!” She bent low so she could get a better look at the yellow stilettos. “Wow, these are great! What are you calling them?”

“Misty.”

“Tight. When do they hit the stores?”

“Any day now—along with the rest of the spring collection. This is the very first pair out of production.”

Garnet leaned back in her chair. “You always do that, right? Take the first pair, I mean. I think that’s awesome. See, that’s what I mean. A man would never think to make sure each and every one of his shoes was in his personal collection. I mean, really, why are men designing shoes for women, anyway?”

This was what talking to Garnet always did to a person. Lily was usually so dizzy after their conversations she generally forgot what she’d started out discussing. She wasn’t sure if Garnet’s brain was more advanced, or if she was just incapable of holding on to one subject for more than forty-five seconds.

“I really like your philosophy,” Garnet continued, mentally zigzagging. “Date a lot, settle on no one.”

Lily was mildly uncomfortable being a role model for a twenty-one-year-old. While she and Garnet were only seven years apart agewise, it seemed decades separated them in every other sense. Garnet and the girls she hung out with seemed so jaded and…well, fast—to use an old-fashioned word. She worried about them jumping into life and relationships before they were ready. “I do date a lot, I guess. But you understand I don’t sleep with every man I date.”

Garnet waved her hand. “Oh, yeah. Lots of scumbags out there who are only interested in getting laid. But how do you feel about blow jobs?”

Lily swallowed. “I, uh—” Wasn’t this a conversation a girl had with her mother? Since Lily knew she wasn’t ready for kids—and wasn’t sure she’d ever be—she certainly wasn’t the right person for this.

Quit being goofy. She talked about all aspects of sex with her girlfriends all the time.

Garnet’s bright, curious blue gaze was fixed on her face.

“I think you should consider all sexual acts carefully.”

Garnet pursed her lips. “That’s a good philosophy. Now, about the messages…I promise to e-mail them if he’ll take a look at this computer and those weird exclamation points.”

Her head still spinning from the tangents they’d veered off on, Lily glared down at her receptionist. “If that was the problem, why didn’t you just tell him that?”

Garnet glanced from side to side, then leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t tell anybody, but he kind of intimidates me sometimes.”

Lily could definitely relate. She and Garnet were talkers. James was most certainly not. She figured Garnet felt the same way she did—quiet people made her nervous. Dead silence was a space she was obligated to fill. “Okay, well, let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to help with the computer?”

“Hey, I did all this stuff on my own before you two got here.” Admittedly not too well, but she’d managed. She leaned toward the phone. “Let’s start with the voice mail. I’m extension one, James is extension two. When you need to forward a call to his voice mail you press this button, then this one.” Lily demonstrated with a pointing finger.

“And when I need to forward a call to you?”

She’d actually told most anyone she could think of to call her cell when they needed to get in touch with her. “Same thing, just press this—” She stopped and considered the phone pad and its myriad similar-looking buttons. “How about color-coded labels? Blue for James, pink for me.”

Garnet grabbed her arm. “Oh, that’s perfect.”

They spent a few minutes finding labels, cutting them into two small sections, then coloring them with Lily’s sketching pencils. Now that the buttons on the phone were colors instead of numbers, she could only pray Garnet would get things right. She couldn’t afford to piss off James and lose his host of office skills.

“Now for the e-mail.” Lily eyed the computer with innate distrust, then closed her eyes and pressed the spacebar. When she opened them, the dancing shoes had disappeared, and the main screen was in view. She double-clicked the e-mail program—and who, exactly, had come up with that redundant system?—then waited while the computer did whatever it did to accept mail.

A yellow caution sign with an exclamation point popped up in the middle of the screen. Lily stepped back. “Yikes.”

“Told ya.”

Lily linked her fingers behind her back. “Let’s just—” She scooted away from the computer. “Let’s just not touch this anymore. I’ll, uh…go tell James.”

“Better you than me.”

As Lily slinked away from Garnet’s station, she noted the receptionist had found an emery board and was filing her nails—hard at work as usual. Lily poked her head around the door frame to James’s office, told him about the problem, then darted to her workroom. She had designs to go over.

She spent the next several hours evaluating the sketches she’d made for the Spectacular. One designer wanted her signature color to be bright orange—a hue Lily could relate to—so she’d come up with orange dots, stripes and checks; orange patent leather, bows and wraparound straps; and, finally, orange logos of the designer’s crest.

After approving the sketches with her signature, she stretched her arms over her head. She had a lukewarm date to prepare for. Maybe she should get to it. She liked cute designer Brian Thurmond, but she considered them more friendly colleagues than about-to-connect lovers. She’d befriended him a couple of weeks ago at a fashion show, since she understood what it was like to want so badly to succeed, but still be floundering. And connections were gold in the fashion business.

She couldn’t find a ton of enthusiasm for the night out, though. He’d spent most of their last date trying—a little too obviously—to convince her to get him into the Spectacular.

She was on her way out the workroom door when Garnet called down the hall, “Li——ly!”

“I’m right here,” she said as she ground to a halt in the foyer. “We have an intercom, you know.”

Garnet smiled over her shoulder. “Oh. Forgot. Line one. It’s your sister.”

Suppressing a groan, Lily picked up the extension on the foyer table. “Hi, sis, you just caught me on my way out.” Well, she was going out—in about two hours, after she showered, redid her makeup, dressed and snacked.

“Out with who?” her older, bossier and nosier sister asked.

“A guy.” She knew her sister would never settle for that, so she added, “A fellow designer.”

“Do things look—” She broke off as something crashed in the background. “Jack Jr., get out of those cabinets!”