The Geek Gets The Girl by Michele Hauf Page A

minute—er, stuff.” Like vacillating on whether or not to shut down the office. “Thought I was the only one here. What’s up with the shoe deluge?” 
    Rachel’s head popped around the corner of the desk and she thrust out a fuchsia satin heel. “What do you find sexy about this shoe?”
    Zac tapped a finger against his lower lip and eyed the shoe, which he knew was part of the new fall line. Haute Heels had gone with deep, jewel tones to emulate a rich, decadent lushness. But if he revealed he knew that the shank had been engineered to expose the arch of the foot because men found that sexy, she’d know he knew too much.
    “The pointed shape of the toe,” he decided. “It’s wicked.”
    She tilted her head, assessing the shoe. “It is wicked. You nailed it in less than three seconds. I’ve been sitting here all afternoon, racking my brain over ideas for the campaign meeting on Friday, and you nail it like that.”
    “All afternoon? You need a break.”
    “No. Nope. Nada. I will not leave this office until I’ve something to present to the Les Grands Chaussures in two days. I’ve got some notes from Amelie. She’s very talented. I like this idea she’s sketched, but not sure how to execute it.”
    He waded through the sea of footwear and plucked the fuchsia shoe from Rachel’s hand, while grabbing her hand with the other and pulling her to her feet. He handed her the shoe. “Put it on.”
    “What?”
    “Have you worn any of them?” He splayed his hands to take in the scattered boxes of shoes. “The best way to get a feel for the product is to wear it, isn’t it?”
    Her mouth dropped open and her eyelashes fluttered. She’d not considered that, but he was going to chalk it up to overworked and under-assisted.
    “Put them on, and give them a go down the catwalk.” He gestured out the door. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
    The smile that curled her mouth was too quickly hidden as she twisted down to slip on the shoes. Her derriere wiggled in the snug gray skirt she wore. He exhaled, recalling the feel of that gorgeous bottom in his hands. When she walked past him, he inhaled oranges. Perfect way to end a long day—breathing in summer.
    She walked down the hallway, emulating a model’s confidence and swagger. The thing about high heels? They gave every woman a sexy swagger, a hip-shifting swing, an innate confidence that made them carry their bodies straight, shoulders back and head high. It was enough to make any man hard. 
    And Zac was any man.
    She pulled a runway turn at the end of the aisle by the Accounts Receivable desk and swung back toward him, exaggerating her strides as she assumed a model’s pony-like prance. Zac recalled his mother always camping it up by modeling the season’s newest shoes in just such a manner at holiday dinners and before friends.
    “Modeling Haute Heels’ fall line is the lovely Rachel Parker,” he narrated as she neared him. “The shoes are fuchsia. The model is gorgeous.”
    “The narrator has a hard-on,” she commented with another swing that took her down the aisle.
    “Indeed, he does,” he muttered on her return. “I don’t suppose we can use the ad slogan ‘Gives men a woody,’ eh?”
    “We? Remember, you’re just IT.” She tapped him on the nose admonishingly. “Next pair. I’m not feeling these.” She ducked into the office to forage through the boxes. “These!”
    Moments later, she again strode the makeshift catwalk, a pair of impossibly sexy black lace-ups hugging her ankles. The big black satin bows tied at the back of her narrow calves, crisscrossing once in front and in back, made him want to crisscross her with his arms and pull her in to crush against his erection. Which demanded some attention.
    He needed a drink.
    Spying a bottle of water sitting on her glass desktop, Zac twisted it open. Rachel strolled in and gave his chest a shove. Toppling over a stack of shoeboxes behind him, he landed on the couch. A nudge of her