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have a problem.”
    “I do?” Ashbea had the horrible feeling she was going to miss this man when he was gone from her life. That was crazy of course. He had called her a mistake and spontaneous, wild sex did not make a long-term relationship. Remember that. But then Harry smiled at her words and she had trouble remembering anything. He had that effect on her.
    “No, other stuff.” Harry pulled his hand from hers as if remembering why he was there. He cleared his throat. “As part of my job I check the storage area where all the products for the different suppliers at the convention are kept.”
    Who was this man? Tender and sweet, hot and sexy but then cool and careful. He was the proverbial enigma wrapped around a riddle. As much as Ashbea sucked at puzzles, she wanted to work Harry out. “Your job sounds almost as boring as my job.”
    “Does Princess Mitzi have enemies?”
    Ashbea snorted. “Undoubtedly. Mitzi pisses off everyone from the mailman to the office cleaner. The staff loathes her and most store buyers hate her with a passion. Actually, I believe she’s probably pissed off a good percentage of the population in one way or the other. Why?” There were no random questions in life.
    “Take those shoes off and follow me.” Harry smiled again, his eyes lingering on her breasts. “You don’t need come-fuck-me shoes. You’re fuckable without them.”
    Ashbea felt hot all over and her inner thighs started to sweat. “Are you trying to drive me mad?” She bent down and unstrapped the heels.
    “Yeah, bumblebee, that’s my plan.” He looked her up and down. “You’re short.”
    She rolled her eyes at his words. “How inconvenient for you.”
    “And you’re a smart-ass,” Harry replied, ushering her out.
    “As are you.”
    * * * * *
    “Holy crap!” Ashbea was agog. All the heels had been sawn off the Princess Mitzi line of shoes.
    Harry caught Ashbea by the elbow as she staggered back against him. “Yeah, it’s pretty messy.” He led her farther into the storage room. A discarded hacksaw was thrown in among the debris. Harry bent down to pick up one mutilated shoe. “Why would you encase a cigarette in clear a plastic heel?” This was one of the weirdest conventions, second only to the bondage one they had two months ago where they had wanted a half-naked woman to be suspended from the ceiling by ropes. Harry had put the kibosh on that. Half-naked was fine. Suspension from anywhere was a health and safety risk and not worth any publicity.
    “It was Mitzi’s idea.” Ashbea took the heel from his hand. “She thinks things like eyeliner pencils, lipstick pens, nail files and the like are artistic and original when covered in plastic. I think she’s nuts.”
    That was one of the things he loved about Ashbea . She said what she thought. Loved? Steady on, man. “Is your employer on drugs?” Better to focus on the problem at hand and not the woman at his side. Ashbea was an unforeseen complication Harry still wasn’t sure how to deal with. She was the first woman in a long while he wanted to spend any time with.
    “Who knows what Mitzi’s on.” Ashbea surveyed the mess of broken shoes. “She’s going to throw the biggest hissy fit when she sees this.”
    And no doubt blame Ashbea in some way. Harry saw enough of Mitzi to realize the woman was a bully. Instinctively he wanted to protect Ashbea from her. “So who’s the competition down here?”
    “Angela’s Ankles and Polly’s Perfect Pins.” She raked a hand through her hair. “There are some weird-assed people in the come-fuck-me shoe business. Angela is super friendly to your face but would knife the competition in a heartbeat and Polly appears like a sweet, elderly woman but she has the cunning of a rat. Both of them hate Mitzi, which is not a crime in itself as it shows good taste, but both would like to see the company fold as Princess Mitzi is their main rival in plastic shoes.”
    Crazy names for a crazy business that