Emilio heard his cell phone buzz and picked it up off the table. He read his newest text message, then held up his iPhone. “Antwan isn’t coming. He’s stuck at the office.”
A frown marred her delicate facial features.
“I didn’t know you were joining us tonight,” he said, to fill the long, awkward silence that descended over the table. “How do you know Jamieson? Is he a client of yours?”
“You lost me.” Looking more confused than ever, she slanted her head and folded her arms across her chest. “This is supposed to be a business dinner, not a booze fest with the guys. Right?”
Mulling over her words, he stroked the length of his jaw. The truth came to him in a flash, and his face hardened like stone. “Antwan set us up, and I bet he told the other guys to stay away.” He was annoyed with Antwan, pissed that he’d been tricked, but he kept his temper in check. “He played me, and I never saw it coming.”
“This is ridiculous.” Sharleen took her iPhone out of her purse, dialed a number and put it to her ear. “Un-be-liev-a-ble. Now he isn’t answering his phone. How convenient.”
“I should have known better. This is the oldest trick in the book—”
A devilish gleam filled her eyes. “Let’s drive to his office and egg the place!”
Emilio cracked up. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard, or so long, and it felt damned good. There was nothing sexier than a woman with a wicked sense of humor, and Sharleen cracked jokes with the skill of a comedy heavyweight. She spoke expressively, with her eyes and her hands, and her energy made him sit up and take notice.
“Let me buy you a drink.” Emilio tried to sound casual, but his heart was pounding so hard it drowned out the noise in the room.
He saw her eyes widen and smiled to show his sincerity.
“You want me to stay?”
Emilio tried to play it cool, but he was desperate for her to stay. Eating alone was depressing, and he didn’t want the other patrons—especially the nosy, female ones watching him like a hawk—to join him if Sharleen left. “Antwan wants us to talk, so let’s talk,” he said. “I’m curious about you, and I’d like to hear more about your work.”
“You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. To get through to you, I thought I’d have to break into your estate and corner you in your home gym!”
Please do. An erotic image, one too hot for TV, flashed in his mind. Emilio wet his lips with his tongue and returned her gaze. His pulse was pounding, clanging in his ears like the Liberty Bell, and his breathing was labored. I can see you now...naked...bent over my weight bench...legs spread wide open...rocking those hips—
“This is going to be fun. I want to learn more about you and explain more about life coaching...”
Emilio’s testosterone level soared to unimaginable heights. His reaction to Sharleen embarrassed him, made him realize he was long overdue for a good, hard screw. But suddenly there was only one woman he hungered for.
Forget it. You have a better chance of winning the Masters Golf Tournament than getting Sharleen into bed. And besides, she belongs to Antwan, not you.
“There you are, you sexy beast. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Emilio groaned. He didn’t have to turn around to see whom the high-pitched voice belonged to. Hanging his head, he cursed under his breath in Italian. His sister must have told her roommate where he’d be, because Ginger Barnes showing up at his favorite sports bar was no coincidence. The British nanny was the most obnoxious person he’d ever met, and the more she propositioned him, the less he liked her. Ginger latched on to anyone with wealth and success, and he suspected she was using Francesca to get close to him. Not that it mattered; she didn’t stand a chance in hell of becoming Mrs. Emilio Morretti.
Bitter memories infiltrated his thoughts. Back in the day, before his life fell apart, he would’ve slept with Ginger without a second thought. He’d hooked up with a wide assortment of beauties during his fifteen-year racing career. But he was a different man now. Older, wiser and more discerning about the opposite sex, he no longer felt pressured to live the playboy lifestyle. Sadly, it had taken the loss of his beloved nephew for him to learn the errors of his ways.
“Hi,” he muttered, as he clenched his teeth. Emilio didn’t hide his displeasure, didn’t pretend he was happy to see her. He didn’t want his plans with Sharleen to go to ruin, so the sooner he got rid of Ginger the better. “What are you doing here?”
She cocked her head in his direction and licked her thin red lips in an exaggerated fashion. “What do you mean? I love sports.”
“Really?” Emilio didn’t believe her, not for a minute. “What team does LeBron James play for?”
Ginger wrinkled her nose. “Who’s LeBron James?”
Checkmate! Emilio sneaked a glance at Sharleen, saw a grin dimple her cheek and knew she was amused. He stood, took Sharleen’s hand and helped her to her feet. Winking at her, he rested a hand on the curve of her lower back and leaned in close. He’d always preferred pretty, natural types, not high-maintenance divas, and as he glanced between the women he realized they weren’t even in the same league. Sharleen was a bombshell, with brains and personality, and that was damned hot.
“Let’s head upstairs,” he proposed, gesturing to the second floor with a flick of his head. “It’s crowded down here, and I want us to have some privacy.”
Her eyes brightened, and a bashful smile claimed her lips. Emilio envisioned kissing her, but struck the thought from his mind. She was his manager’s girl, and although he was attracted to her, he’d never do anything to screw over his longtime friend.
“Y-y-you’re on a date?” Ginger stammered, her voice an earsplitting squeak. A horrified expression covered her face. “I thought you were alone.”
“See you around. Take care.”
Ginger slid in front of him, thwarting his escape. “If you’re free later, maybe you can meet up with me and Francesca at Magic City. We’re going club hopping with some out-of-town friends, and we’re planning to party the night away.”
Emilio glared at her. “My sister doesn’t go to strip clubs.”
“Okay,” she shot back, with a knowing smirk. “If you say so!”
Disgusted, he strode out of the lounge with Sharleen at his side. Ginger was a bad influence on his twenty-five-year-old sister, and as he marched past the open kitchen, he made a mental note to talk to Francesca about finding another roommate. Or better yet, moving back into his estate. The thought heartened him, lifted his spirits. He missed seeing his sister every day and liked the idea of her living under his roof again. Francesca was still struggling to cope with the loss of Lucca, but partying with a wild crowd wasn’t the answer.
Do you blame her? Her only child died, his conscience shot back. And you’re a fine one to talk. Had your daily dose of scotch today?
“I don’t see anyone upstairs. I hope we don’t get into trouble for seating ourselves.”
Emilio surfaced from his thoughts. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble with management?”
“I’m positive. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Sharleen burst out laughing, and his chest puffed up with pride. He felt fired up, happier than a kid at SeaWorld.
“Everyone’s staring at us,” she whispered, a note of anxiety in her voice. “But I guess