“Where’s Emilio? We have a lot of ground to cover this morning, and I’m anxious to get started.” To prove she meant business, Sharleen took a clipboard and a pen out of her purse. “Are you going to take me to Emilio, or do I have to find him myself?”
Antwan wagged a finger in her face. “We’ll talk later, because this isn’t over.”
Oh, yes, it is. You and I would never work, so quit while you’re ahead!
Sharleen spun on her heels and was surprised to see that Emilio Morretti had silently entered the vestibule. Her heart stopped dead in her chest. Her head felt fuzzy, as if she was hungover, and her pulse beat out of control.
To look that fine should be criminal, illegal in all fifty states.
He had creamy olive skin, thick eyebrows and the most beautiful eyes Sharleen had ever seen. They were soulful, a light brown shade, and tinged with gray around the edges. Dark stubble covered his jaw, and although he was casually dressed in a white polo shirt, loose-fitting pants and leather sandals, there was no disputing his dashing looks.
Good God. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s even more attractive in person than he is on TV! He had chiseled features, a head full of dark hair and a body that would make Hercules jealous. Antwan was the one in the designer threads, but Emilio was the one who reeked of power and affluence. He had a guarded vibe, and he didn’t look happy to see her. But for some inexplicable reason Sharleen was drawn to him anyway.
Her skin tingled with desire. Sharleen wanted to introduce herself to Emilio, but the words didn’t come. Her thoughts were racing, her breathing was labored and her tongue wouldn’t move. She ordered herself to quit gawking at him, but she didn’t have the strength to turn away.
“This beautiful young woman is your new life coach. Isn’t she stunning?”
Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Sharleen glared at Antwan. She hated when he made a fuss over her, but instead of whacking him upside the head with her purse, she stepped forward and extended a hand to Emilio. “Thank you for inviting me to your lovely home. I’m thrilled to be here.” Sharleen heard her voice crack, but she continued. “Antwan’s told me a lot about you—but don’t worry. I never believe a word he says!”
A grin dimpled Emilio’s cheek, yet he didn’t laugh. She could tell he wanted to—his eyes were smiling, and his nose was twitching—but something was holding him back. He took her hand in his and held it for all of five seconds. Yet it was long enough to make her body quiver. Sharleen didn’t make it a habit to drool over her celebrity clients, but everything about Emilio Morretti turned her on. His full lips, his broad, strapping shoulders, his quiet disposition.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Nichols.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Ooh, that voice! His Italian accent was a sensuous treat, and the sound made her heart flutter in her chest like a butterfly. Her gaze strayed to his mouth, lingered there for a beat. Every inch of her body was aroused, infected with lust, and her legs felt rubbery, as if they were about to give way. She was nearly undressing him with her eyes, couldn’t stop herself from admiring his fit physique. Knock it off—he’s a client!
“Welcome to my estate.”
Her nipples hardened, strained against the soft, silky material of her satin bra. She wondered how it would feel if Emilio kissed her, imagined his hands stroking her body. Sharleen slammed the brakes on the illicit thought. What’s the matter with you? Why are you acting like a desperate housewife? In the five years she’d worked at Pathways Center, she’d never been attracted to a client or ever crossed the line. Her desire for Emilio scared her, made her question if she could work effectively with him. Thank God our weekly sessions are on the phone and not in person, she thought, sighing in relief. Because with those eyes, and that voice, there’s no way I’d ever be able to concentrate!
“I feel terrible that you drove all this way, but I won’t be needing your services.”
His words turned to garble in her ear. Is this a test? Am I being punked?
“Emilio, she just got here. Give her a chance.” Antwan sounded like a teacher exasperated with a troublesome student. “I wouldn’t hire Sharleen if I didn’t think she could do the job.”
“I don’t need a life coach.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t lash out, but there was no mistaking his anger. His forehead was creased, and his mouth was a firm, hard line. “I can run my own life, and I don’t need you, or anyone else, telling me what to do.”
Emilio aimed his gaze in her direction, but he seemed to look through her, not at her. He made her feel unimportant, and Sharleen didn’t like it one bit. But what am I supposed to do? Throw a hissy fit and demand he talk to me, not at me?
“It’s not my job to tell you what to do.” Her voice quavered with emotion, but Sharleen was determined to speak her mind. “My goal is to help you overcome your grief and rediscover your purpose in life. I’ll support you and hold you accountable, but I won’t boss you around or cram my opinion down your throat. I’m a life coach, Mr. Morretti, not a bully.”
Surprise showed on Emilio’s face. He gave her the once-over but didn’t speak. His eyes were weapons of mass destruction, dark and dreamy, but Sharleen didn’t wither under his piercing stare. Her heart thumped so loud her ears throbbed, and it was hard to think when he was looking at her like that. This is what I get for watching HBO last night, Sharleen thought, chastising herself. That erotic movie excited me, and now I can’t think of anything but kissing Emilio!
Sharleen cleared her mind and deleted every conflicting thought. She couldn’t afford to screw this up; her boss was counting on her. During her performance review, Mrs. Fontaine had given her an earful, and every day her searing rebuke played in Sharleen’s mind.
“As a senior life coach it’s your responsibility to help build the business, develop new strategies and create buzz on social media, and sadly you’re not carrying your weight...”
Three weeks after her review, Sharleen was still pissed. What does Mrs. Fontaine expect me to do? Hold celebrities at gunpoint and make them sign up for a free consultation?
“Let’s sit down and talk,” Antwan proposed, gesturing to the living room.
Emilio shook his head. “I can’t. It’s time for my morning workout.”
“All I need is fifteen minutes of your time.” Sharleen held up her clipboard and flashed her brightest smile. “Once you finish answering this brief questionnaire, I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m not interested.” Emilio gave her his back and addressed Antwan. “I’m going into my gym. Let yourself out, and please show Ms. Nichols to her car.”
Before Sharleen could say “It was nice meeting you,” Emilio Morretti was gone. Antwan strode into the living room, returned seconds later with his briefcase and hustled her back through the foyer. Without a word, he opened the front door, ushered her outside and closed it behind him.
“I’m sorry about that.” Antwan smiled apologetically. “Don’t take it personally. Today’s the second anniversary of his nephew’s death, and he’s angry at the world right now.”
Sharleen nodded. “That explains a lot.”
“You’ve worked wonders with some of my other high-profile clients, and I’m hoping you can do the same with Emilio,” he said, his eyes alight with interest. “There’s tons of money to be made at the World Series Racing, and time’s running out for Emilio’s big comeback.”
“He has to be ready and willing to change. I can’t force him.”
“You can’t treat Emilio like your other clients. He’s a special case.”