Free Ballet Shoes and Engine Grease by Tatiana March Page A

Constantine Spur
that took part in the very first Le Mans 24 hour race ever held,
but they also see a row of brand new Constantine Panthers that they
can drool over, giving us an opportunity to convince them that they
simply must have one.”
    “ Okay.” Crimson scored another tick. “The
Spur stays at home.”
    Nick resumed his carefree pose. “Next.”
    “ Funding for an advertising
campaign.”
    He nodded his chin toward the
notepad. “Three
circles.”
    A ripple of ex citement swept over Crimson. She had thought he
was talking down to her with those simplistic circles, but he’d
been sincere. It was starting to make sense now. She raised her
gaze to Nick. His eyes were softer, warmer now as he embraced his
love of the company that was his heritage. The dark curls were
beginning to look a little disheveled, and one of the buttons on
the front of his white shirt was perilously close to popping open
as he rocked back in his chair, hands laced behind his
head.
    She spoke slowl y, watching Nick’s face, searching for
confirmation in his expression that she was on the right track.
“Jorge and Peter need to figure out how much it will cost,” she
said. “Then they have to figure out if the advertising campaign
will allow us to sell extra cars, or sell the same number of cars
but get a higher price for them.”
    “ And Hank?” Nick said. “What’s Hank’s role
in it?”
    At a loss for an answer,
Crim son chewed the end
of her pencil. Nick had been studying her, waiting for her answer.
Now, his gaze fell to her mouth. His eyes narrowed. With a crash,
he brought the chair back down to four legs. Awareness flooded
Crimson at how her lips had pursed around the shaft of the pencil
in what might be regarded as a suggestive gesture. A blush rose on
her skin.
    “ I don’t know,” she said, her words muffled
as she slid out the pencil.
    Nick swallowed , hard. She could tell by the strained movement of
his throat. He spoke in a low, almost strangled voice. “Production
cost. Can the manufacturing schedule handle more cars, or will
there be overtime? Will some externally sourced components need to
be ordered as a rush job? Or, will the increased quantity trigger
discounts with suppliers? Those are the kind of questions you’ll
need to consider.”
    “ Okay,” she told him, although her brain
had stopped working.
    H e made a small, inviting gesture with one hand.
“Next?”
    Perspiration beaded between her
breasts as she met his
gaze. Color burned on her cheeks, but valiantly, Crimson forged on.
“Hank wants to produce cars into inventory, so that the factory
doesn’t have to go on a four day week.”
    “ Hmm…” Nick’s mouth flattened. “That’s a
tricky one. What do you do if you have inventory of unsold goods
you want to sell?” When she failed to respond, he gave her a clue.
“Like fashion shops do with unsold clothes at the end of a
season.”
    Her brows inched up. “You have a sale?”
    “ Right. You discount the product. And
there’s the problem. Constantine Motors never discounts. Never. We
only have one product. The Constantine Panther. It comes in two
versions. Two seater, Panther Duet. Four seater, Panther Quartet.
The color is always the same, dark green and purple, with chrome
accents. There’s a long list of options for the client to
customize. Seat color. Walnut or maple dash. Heated seats. Music
system. Trip computer. Apart from the paintwork and chassis, which
are always standard, every Constantine Panther is fully customized.
And if you manufacture to inventory, without a customer lined up to
make their choices, you can’t customize.”
    “ So.” Crimson drew a thick line around the
square box with her initial. “This time, there’s no input from the
three circles. It’s just me. I’ll have to decide if we should take
the risk of manufacturing cars that someone might not want to buy
at full list price.”
    “ You’ve got it.”
    “ Could we make the inventory cars a