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Closing out of the drive, Staci brought up the Internet and extensively Googled the issue of women and their high heels.
Apparently, it was a rampant concern in the world of podiatry.
Staci frowned. At twenty-eight, she’d spent half of her life in high heels. She’d gotten used to three- and four-inch heels early on, so that they didn’t really cause much trouble or pain. But she’d fallen in love with the additional height provided by the six-inchers. And suffered from the obsession.
She wasn’t the only one.
So…what to do about it?
Staci’s main focus had always been on the design of her shoes from the fashion standpoint, not the comfort or even the safety aspects.
Suddenly, she felt that was irresponsible on her part. Of course she cared about the health of her customers’ feet. And with the skyscraping heel being all the rage right now, it was her duty to put as much thought and effort into a design that protected the foot as she put into the look of the shoes.
A new quest.
One she happily latched on to. She continued her research into the wee hours of the morning. Until she came upon the concrete conclusion that she needed an expert on her side.
And the most renowned podiatrist in the country—one of the most revered in the world—was Dr. Evan Hart. Podiatric surgeon extraordinaire. Currently on-staff at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.
Perfect.
She found his Wikipedia page and perused it, his complicated professional accreditations going well over her head. A standard-issue studio mug shot accompanied all the articles he’d written—and which had been written about him, especially when he was honored with this or that award for his stellar work.
In the photo, he was a somewhat nerdy-looking thirty-five-year-old physician with thick-lensed glasses, dress shirt and tie, and a white lab coat. He didn’t smile. Just looked sort of uncomfortable and annoyed, all buttoned up and forced to hold the pose while the photographer snapped the picture.
Doesn’t matter if he’s on the stuffy side… He could be a saving grace.
And since it was in Staci’s nature to be one step ahead of potential trouble—precisely the reason she’d sought help from brilliant problem-solver Ryan Donovan when she’d suspected there’d be a production crisis with the surge in sales—she shot off a concise, professional introduction to the good doc via e-mail. Not explaining her conflict, but requesting that Dr. Hart call her at his earliest convenience.
A triumphant smile tugged at her lips. It was genius, really, to get someone behind her shoes of his magnitude and recognition.
Come Monday morning, she had a feeling he’d be beating down her door.
Hell, chances were good he’d be calling her this weekend. Because this was not an opportunity someone of Dr. Evan Hart’s professional standing would pass up!
Please see the next page for a preview of WHAT LOLA WANTS by Calista Fox.
Chapter One
“Who does a girl have to blow around here to get a drink?” Lola Vonn asked with a crooked brow as she scanned the crowded lounge for a server. A busser had dropped off two glasses of ice water fifteen minutes earlier, but no one had come by to take an order.
Across the high-top table, her coworker Maxi Shayne said, “A little louder, please. I don’t think the nuns at St. Mary’s heard you.”
Lola flashed a smile. “Too uncouth?”
“So very unlike you,” Maxi teased, a sparkle in her eyes.
“And you’re Miss PC?”
“At least I employ a certain level of tact.”
“All right. I repent. I’m only joking about the blow job.” Lola searched the neon-lit room again, her gaze landing on the sexy bartender mixing dirty martinis. He had spiky blond hair, a scruffy chin, and bulging biceps. “Or…maybe not. Hell-o there, Hot Stuff.”
“Noticed him when we walked in,” Maxi commented. “Edgy-looking men do the most sinful things in bed.”
“I wouldn’t mind him taking the edge off me.”
“I saw him first.”
