Feet First. Leanne Banks

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      “Does it bother you that you don’t have any romantic feelings for him at all?”

      “Only at certain times, and those are rare. I care a great deal for Frank. I remind him to take his medication and to go for his doctor appointments. I even set up dinners to include his children. But you gotta remember, Jenny. I was raised in a single-wide. Frank is my ticket to financial security.”

      “But don’t you miss having some kind of passion for him?”

      Liz paused and sighed. “I have a different kind of passion for Frank. It’s a passion of gratitude for changing my life. If you’re talking about sex, well, I’ve had some really hot lovers. And I imagine that someday in the future I will again.”

      Jenny sipped her soda and thought about how different she was from Liz. Sometimes Liz’s callous attitude to her marriage made Jenny cringe. Other times, she admired the woman’s practical approach.

      “You’ve been quiet too long,” Liz said. “This is when you’re thinking I’m a she-devil going straight to hell.”

      Jenny laughed and shook her head. “No, I just wish my conscience wasn’t so noisy.”

      Liz patted her hand. “Your conscience is part of your charm, and I wouldn’t want you to lose it.” She smiled. “But couldn’t you just stuff it in the hall closet every now and then? Like, remember that guy you had a crush on and you wouldn’t go after him because that other flaky waitress couldn’t get over him?”

      “It would have felt mean to flaunt it in her face.”

      “And remember that guy who offered to take you to the Super Bowl?”

      “He was married,” Jenny said.

      “Not much longer,” Liz corrected.

      Liz patted her hand again. “I can tell something is bothering you. Tell Liz about it.”

      Liz was a strange combination of survivalist and everyone’s favorite aunt.

      “It’s stupid,” Jenny said, shaking her head. Stupid, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

      “Does it involve man, money or job?”

      “All three in a way,” Jenny said.

      Liz’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my. Spill it.”

      “There’s nothing to spill. I got a promotion to work on a special project which means more money, for a while. But the project will go away in a few months, so the promotion may really be temporary. One of the problems is the VP thinks I have a degree and I don’t.”

      “And the angel side of you is hurting,” Liz said with a nod. “Frank has told me about this kind of thing, and you know he’s a very experienced entrepreneur. It’s the fake-it-till-you-make-it principle. I hear they even teach it at the community college, so get over yourself. You’ve been given an opportunity. Make the most of it. Where does the man come in?”

      “The man is a VP at the company where I work.”

      “Oh, really,” Liz said. “And have you—”

      Jenny shook her head. “No. He doesn’t even know my name.”

      Liz frowned. “I don’t understand. Do you want to get him to give you a permanent promotion or do you want to get him—” she shrugged “—naked?”

      “Both, except I’m ninety-nine percent sure there’s no way I can get a permanent promotion.” She thought about her résumé that Sal had doctored and felt her stomach tighten. With her luck, there was no way the truth wouldn’t come out about that sometime. She would just ride this wave until it crashed.

      “Okay, so you want the VP to marry you? I bet he’s loaded,” she said with approval.

      “No. I don’t want to marry him. I just want to—” Her throat closed up and she lowered her voice. “Have him once, or maybe twice.”

      “Omigod, is he that hot?”

      “Yes,” Jenny said in a crisp voice.

      “Is he married? Engaged?”

      Jenny shook her head.

      “Well this is so easy. You just seduce him and—” She broke off and sighed. “Easy for everyone but you. Okay, the first thing you must do is give yourself permission to have VP stud. Second step, give yourself permission to go after him. You’re an adult. He’s an adult. This will all be done by choice.”

      This actually sounded somewhat logical. “So he can be my one hot lover.”

      Liz blinked. “One?”

      “I think that every woman should have one hot love affair, don’t you?”

      “I think we can and should have more,” Liz said. “And if you include celebrity crushes, my list is a mile long and I probably started working on it when I was three years old and my babysitter introduced me to Huey Lewis. I went on to The Backstreet Boys and Rob Thomas. Collin Farrell’s the current fave. But it all started with Huey.”

      Jenny laughed in agreement. “My older sister was crazy about Huey. I guess she made me have a crush on him, too.”

      “See? There you go. But back to your—” she cleared her throat “—one hot love affair, since your conscience will only allow you one. VP stud will be the hot love affair you remember with a naughty smile even when you’re eighty. Put it on your list.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE FOLLOWING THURSDAY Jenny finally set aside her beloved red glasses and put disposable contact lenses into her eyes. She slid her feet into her new heels, left her hair swinging freely at her shoulders and wore a little red sweater and the black skirt. She added a pair of Foot Peta footpads to keep her feet from declaring mutiny by midday.

      Feeling conspicuous, she hid in her office for the better part of the day until she worked up the nerve to show Marc some drawings of evening shoes she’d designed.

      Her palms damp, she took the elevator three flights up and walked to his assistant’s desk.

      “He’s gone for the afternoon. You didn’t have an appointment, did you?” Cynthia asked, clicking her computer mouse and checking her screen.

      “No,” Jenny said, feeling foolish. How anticlimactic. She should have made an appointment, but she’d been too chicken yesterday.

      “He leaves early on either Tuesday or Thursday afternoons to visit his grandfather. Do you want to set up an appointment for tomorrow?”

      “Sure,” Jenny said.

      “Hey, Cynthia. I need to talk to Marc about the new marketing initiative with retailers,” a man said from behind Jenny.

      “You know he’s not here, Will,” Cynthia said. “It’s Thursday afternoon.”

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