Chapter 2

A man had to have invented stilettos. No woman in her right mind would have ever set out to stuff her feet into a shoe held up by a toothpick-a stick that ensured she suffered every pound of flesh she carried with each step she took. I abhorred heels and the clink they made on the concrete. And right now, it was all I heard as I made my way to the back corner of the distribution center for my meeting. The noise was so loud it drowned out the shrill beeps of the forklifts taking boxes from racks that were roughly three stories tall, or at least, with the fluorescent bulbs and skylights, they seemed that high.

Places like these weren't unfamiliar. I no longer felt uncomfortable with the lack of windows and industrial feel of the facility. Working at the consulting firm, I'd been in my fair share of warehouses and manufacturing facilities, my latest endeavor, a local distribution center, 3 Tier Auto.

Searching for the managers' offices, I zigzagged through a maze of aisles that contained racks stretching to the ceiling for storage. I assumed it was all automotive stock since this was an automotive supplier, but who knew what those boxes really held. After having met some of the managers here, I wondered if it might have been body parts of former consultants who refused to respond to their high demands. I shivered as I thought about women encapsulated in the boxes. The forklift stopping on the next aisle over pulled my thoughts away from the victims hibernating in cardboard. The shelves and stock obstructed the view, and the cloudy day offered little sunshine to filter through the skylights and illuminate the dark space. I couldn't make out the face of the person on the lift a few feet way, but I was unable to shake the feeling of being watched, and it unnerved me. Without a second thought, I scurried off to the far back corner of the facility for my meeting.

An hour later, I had two male escorts around the building who droned on and on about where they believed the problems were in each department. These guys were part of 3 Tier's corporate team and didn't regularly work the floor, but they gave me direction on how to solve the facility's difficulties. The irony had me giggling to myself. If they knew everything that was wrong and how to fix it, there was no need for my service, but for whatever reason, management never wanted to admit they were clueless. I listened intently, taking in their thoughts to make sure I addressed their concerns, but the problems at 3 Tier were deeper than Jimmy not being a strong forklift operator or the dot matrix printer. They had efficiency issues, productivity difficulties, staff concerns, and an overall morale problem.

My feet were killing me. As we rounded the corner, I spotted Lynn sitting at her desk and gave her a tiny wave. Impatiently, I waited for these two to get their schedules aligned and set our next appointment. We needed to execute the final paperwork now that they had made their decision, hiring Walton's-and me-so I could solve their problems instead of just listening to people talk about them. Finally, they excused themselves, with a meeting on the calendar for the following week, and I moved toward Lynn.

In the numerous times I'd been at 3 Tier trying to work out the details to land this contract, I had forged a friendship with the head receiving clerk. She was the first person visitors met walking in the door and controlled more of the facility than most of the managers. Lynn was a sweet girl once you got past the gruff, "I hate other women" exterior. We were similar-kindred spirits-hard outer shells but screaming for help on the inside. But no one ever knew that looking at either of us. She was younger than I was and engaged, which totally baffled me.

Lynn looked like she had gossip she was dying to spill. Being one of three women in the facility, she was close to most of the men on the floor, and they all seemed to use her as their personal counselor. I never knew men could be such drama queens, but apparently, when they were together with no women around to even the playing field, they turned into little hens.

I plopped down in the chair next to her desk with a thud, crossed my long legs, and wished I could take off my shoes and rub my sore feet. She stared at me with an enormous grin on her face, waiting to divulge something juicy.

"You know you're being followed?" she asked, but she actually made a statement.

I had no idea what she was referring to, but she mistook my silence for disinterest instead of contemplation.

"Annie! Did you hear me?" She waved her hand in front of my face to get my attention.

"I heard you. But I have no clue what you're talking about. The only people following me were those suits from your corporate office."

"I'm sure the guys will be thrilled you got the job."

"They haven't signed the final paperwork yet, but what's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you seriously that naïve? Do you not see how the men in this place stalk you? Stare at you? It's like they're devouring you with their eyes-you're the most sought-after prey in their wild kingdom. And that outfit is exactly the type of thing drawing them in-short skirts, high heels, and fitted shirts are like blood to a savage beast. They'd be glad to consume you with more than their eyes if you ever gave any inkling you were interested or available. Don't act like you haven't noticed."

"I haven't. I'm not interested in dating. I'm only twenty, not to mention I'm a college student taking more credit hours than I have time for, getting a degree I don't care about-yet my parents insist I have-and I work a full-time job."

"Well, you don't look twenty, and I'm sure the men around here don't care how busy you are."

"I'm flattered but still not interested."

"Then why entice them with the professional Catholic school-girl look that's every man's fantasy? I'll never understand women like you. You're not even a little curious who it is?"

"Nope. Trust me, these heels will be off as soon as I leave here, and the clothes swapped out for worn-out jeans and a ratty T-shirt the second I get home." I winked at her as I stood to go. I didn't bother responding to the porn scene she conjured up with my outfit. "Shit, I left my bag in the office in the back. I'm going to grab it. Are we still on for tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, but Annie, I wish you'd give someone a chance. Let loose a little. Not everything has to be about report cards and paychecks."

I threw my hand up to wave her off and say goodbye simultaneously as I smiled over my shoulder. I loved that girl, but dang, I had no desire to find my life partner before I could legally drink simply because she had.

As I walked the length of the aisles again, a honk from one of the forklifts caught my attention. Turning in the direction of the noise, the guy standing on the lift appeared to be working, but his eyes bored holes into my body. I picked up my pace as the machine took off the opposite way. Chastising myself for having allowed Lynn's game to seep into my head, I ducked into the office, grabbed my leather bag, and backed out unnoticed.

I proceeded toward the exit and heard the sound of the lift behind me. I stepped out of the aisle, and a light echo of the forklift's horn greeted me. It was a honk that said "Hey there," not, "Danger, get the hell out of the way." I glanced up quickly enough to snag a glimpse of the sexiest man I'd ever laid eyes on. My breath caught in my throat, suspended briefly in time.

Holy shit!

He was gorgeous, handsome in a rugged, Southern sort of way-unusually tall, solid frame with a firm build, but proportionate to his size. The tattered Georgia Tech hat was somehow attractive perched on his head. I realized at that moment how damn hot it was in this warehouse, in the summer, in the South. His skin glistened from the heat, showcasing the definition of his arms and an oriental tattoo on his bicep. My gaze slid past the navy T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off to a pair of well-worn, faded jeans that hugged his hips. They hung loosely down his legs, his knee exposed by the tattered rip on the left side.

I jerked my sight back up and tried to catch his face before he passed me, and instantly, I lost myself in his gaze. He turned his head to continue watching me as he drove by-his eyes never lost contact with mine. They were the most engaging blue I'd ever seen-pools of color I wanted to dive into. He threw a lopsided grin in my direction, tipped his hat with his left hand, and it was then I glimpsed his soft brown hair. Just as he turned his head back around, I was pretty sure he winked.

Standing there looking like a total moron, I watched him ride down the aisle and holler something at the guy picking orders. Frozen, I stared at his backside when he turned back and looked straight into my brown eyes. Startled by his captivating glance, I rushed out the door and ran to my car. I wanted to slap myself for acting like an idiot. Muttering as I crossed the parking lot, I chastised myself for acting as though the good-looking guy was some never-before-seen anomaly. But he was more than just gorgeous. There was something in the way he regarded me-I only saw it for a split second and couldn't decipher its meaning. The connection was undeniable; there was no way his heart hadn't skipped the way mine had. Fumbling for my keys, I got in my car, took off the damn heels, and threw them into the backseat. Slowly, I let out the breath that had caught in my chest the moment I laid eyes on him.