Seduced by Mr. Right

by Pamela Yaye

  “I can’t believe this. You’re incredible—”

  “Thanks, toots, you’re not too bad yourself, and you have a great rack...” He broke off speaking, and the lewd grin slid off his face. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Morretti. I’m Brad McClendon, one of the Master Life Coaches at Pathways Center...”

  Sharleen turned around, saw Emilio standing behind her and swallowed a moan. He smelled of expensive cologne and looked fantastic in his tan sports coat, crisp white shirt and blue jeans. Sharleen would never have an affair with a client, but dammit if she wasn’t tempted. She wondered what his lips tasted like, longed to caress his handsome face and broad, muscled shoulders. Her attraction to Emilio was all-consuming, so powerful her body throbbed with need. The Italian race-car driver was an international superstar, but he was more than just another rich, hot athlete. He was a sweet, gentle soul. That was damned sexy, appealing in every way. But what impressed Sharleen most about Emilio was his quiet confidence. He had zero ego, and he treated everyone he met with kindness and respect.

  “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

  Don’t just stand there like a bump on a log. Speak, dammit, speak! All she could think about was kissing him, tasting his lips once and for all. But she wiped the thought from her mind and found her voice. “Hi, Emilio. How are you?”

  “Great, now that I’ve found you.”

  “Are you enjoying the conference so far?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Thanks for inviting me.” He looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “The Stress Less, Live More workshop starts in fifteen minutes, and I was hoping you’d join me.”

  Before Sharleen could respond, Brad stepped in front of her and vigorously shook Emilio’s hand. “I’m your biggest fan,” he boasted, with a wide, toothy smile. “I’ve worked with dozens of high-profile celebrities over the past nine years, and I think we’d be a perfect fit.”

  “I already have a life coach, and the fact that I’m here proves how persuasive she is.”

  Brad chuckled, but it sounded forced. “You’re in good hands.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Emilio gave a curt nod. “See you around, Chad.”

  Sharleen wanted to laugh in “Chad”’s face. But she remembered the heartbreaking conversation she’d had that morning with Jocelyn and bit the inside of her cheek to stifle her giggles. They walked through the convention center, out into the lobby and stopped in front of the elevators. “Did you mean what you just said about me being your life coach?”

  “Yes, but only if you agree to my terms.”

  “They are?” she prompted.

  “I would like us to do our sessions at my estate.”

  Sharleen mulled over his words, then slowly nodded her head. “I’m fine with that, and as long as you’re open and receptive to my coaching methods, we’ll get along great.”

  “How many sessions do you recommend a week?”

  “We can do as few as one or as many as five. It’s up to you.”

  “Five sounds good.”

  His words made her head spin. Three days ago Emilio threw me out of his estate, and now he wants me to be his life coach. Miracles really do happen! Sharleen liked the idea of seeing him every day and was excited about working with him. Who wouldn’t be? He was easy to talk to, the most down-to-earth celebrity she’d ever met and a great conversationalist. Sharleen had high hopes for Emilio and was confident she could help him conquer his grief.

  “I’d like to do our sessions during my morning workout. Is that cool with you?”

  “Absolutely.” His smile stirred her hormones, made her temperature rise, but she maintained her composure. “Are there any other terms I need to know about?”

  “I’ll introduce you as my girlfriend to my friends and family, not my life coach.”

  Her displeasure must have shown on her face, because he said, “Is that a problem?”

  “Emilio, I won’t pretend to be something I’m not. That goes against what I believe.”

  “I feel strongly about protecting my privacy and keeping my personal life out of the tabloids,” he countered, glancing around the lobby. “Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.”

  A one-liner shot out of her mouth. “How can I refuse when you asked so nicely?”

  Emilio fixed his eyes on hers and licked his lips with deliberate slowness, as if he were trying to arouse her. It worked. Her body was on fire, hot with lust. Sharleen sensed his interest in her and their growing attraction, but ignored her feelings. Nothing good could come out of them having a sexual relationship.

  Ha! As if things would ever get that far. You’re so scared of rejection, you’ve sabotaged all of your relationships—

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Emilio said.

  “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

  Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “I’m a life coach, not a human doormat, and don’t you forget it.”

  Emilio chuckled. “Now that you’ve given me a thorough tongue-lashing, I’d like to head to the workshop. The quicker we finish up here, the quicker we can go eat!”

  * * *

  Sharleen and Emilio were sitting outside talking on the patio at Dolce Vita Atlanta, when the waiter hustled over to their table.

  “I apologize for the delay in bringing your desserts, but the Hawks game just ended, and it’s jam-packed inside.”

  “No worries,” Emilio said good-naturedly to the waiter. “I’m having such a great time with my beautiful dinner companion, I forgot all about dessert.”

  “I wish I could be so lucky!” the young waiter said.

  Emilio addressed the waiter, but he stared at Sharleen with longing in his eyes. “It’s hard to find a good woman, so when you find that special someone, don’t let her go.”

  The heat of his gaze made her mouth dry and her skin tingle. The sexiest athlete on the planet is flirting with me. I must be dreaming! Sharleen needed a moment to catch her breath, so she sipped her cocktail. Reflecting on her favorite parts of the day made her smile. After the Stress Less, Live More workshop, they’d chatted with the keynote speaker, checked out the various vendor booths and enjoyed lattes in the lobby café.

  Driving to Dolce Vita Atlanta in Emilio’s Bugatti had been an exhilarating ride, but nothing compared to entering the celebrity hot spot on his arm. Stylish and elegant, Dolce Vita was known for its outstanding food, excellent service and moneyed clientele. They were given the royal treatment, and when they sat down on the patio, waiters rushed over carrying trays filled with caviar and cocktails. Dinner had been a scrumptious feast and their conversation lively and fun. Attentive and sweet, Emilio asked poignant questions about life coaching and proposed a toast to their new friendship.

  Sharleen fanned a hand to her face. An umbrella shielded the booth from the sun, a lavish flower arrangement dressed the table and lanterns cast a soft glow around the patio.

  “The peach cobbler was an excellent choice. It’s one of my favorites.”

  The waiter had a goofy expression on his face and was staring adoringly at Sharleen.

  “Thanks,” Emilio said curtly. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  The waiter didn’t move. Sharleen felt uncomfortable, as if she were under a microscope. But when Emilio squeezed her hand, her anxiety disappeared. She liked when he touched her, couldn’t get enough of his gentle caress. She felt as if her mind and body disconnected whenever he was around. Get it together. You’re a successful, accomplished woman. Not a tween girl on her first date!

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but we’d like to have some privacy.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Morretti.” Smiling sheepishly, the waiter gave a polite nod.
“Enjoy your dessert, miss. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”

  The waiter left, and Emilio grinned broadly. “Finally. I thought he’d never leave!”

  Laughing, Sharleen picked up her fork and cut into her peach cobbler.

  “The waiter definitely likes you.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Can’t say I blame him, though. You’re stunning.”

  “Why would he be interested in me?” she asked, ignoring his compliment. “I’m a businesswoman, not a bombshell.”

  “Are you saying businesswomen can’t be sexy?”

  No. But I’m not.

  “Intelligence and confidence are what makes a woman irresistible, and you possess both qualities in spades.” His voice deepened, dropped to a husky whisper. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and the more time we spend together the more I’m attracted to you.”

  Sharleen forced herself to keep her mouth shut, told herself not to indulge him. Flirting with a client was never a good idea, and since she didn’t want Emilio to think she had feelings for him, she dodged his gaze and continued eating her dessert.

  “How long have you been dating Antwan?”

  Sharleen choked on her peach cobbler. To alleviate the burning sensation in her chest, she picked up her glass and sipped her drink. “Antwan and I are friends, and nothing more,” she said. “He’s like the brother I never had.”

  “That’s great news—” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out and stared at the screen. “It’s my sister. Do you mind?”

  “No, not at all. Take as long as you need.”

  “Ciao, Francesca. Che succede? Tutto bene?”

  While Emilio was on the phone, Sharleen sent Jocelyn a text message. She hadn’t heard from her friend all day and wanted to see if she was okay. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Sharleen sank back against the plush cushions and crossed her legs.

  Sharleen’s gaze fell on Emilio, and she spent several minutes examining his strong facial features. He spoke in Italian, but his furrowed eyebrows and clipped tone suggested he was angry. Ending his call, he dropped his iPhone on the table.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Sometimes I feel like a human ATM machine,” he complained, pressing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “My sister blew through her monthly allowance again, and she needs a loan to tide her over until the end of the month.”

  “Her monthly allowance? Is she a college student?”

  Amusement filled his eyes. “No, higher learning isn’t exactly her thing.”

  “What does she do for a living?” Sharleen asked.

  “You mean besides shopping at Lenox Square?”

  Emilio finished his wine, then settled back in the booth. He looked calm, as relaxed as a sunbather on the beach, but she sensed his unease. “Did your sister move with you to Atlanta?”

  “Francesca got pregnant shortly after she graduated from high school, and to avoid a scandal in my hometown, my father sent her here to live with me,” he explained. “At the time she was an aspiring model working with several Italian fashion houses, but she put her career on hold to raise Lucca.”

  “How did you feel about your father’s decision?”

  “I thought it was great, and when my nephew was born, it brought us even closer together.”

  “Having a baby in the house must have cramped your style.”

  “No, not at all. I adored Lucca, and I raised him as my own.” Emilio sighed deeply. “It’s been two years since he passed away, but I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Sharleen moved closer and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  “My whole world fell apart when Lucca died.” His voice broke, and he dropped his gaze to his lap. “I stayed in bed for weeks after his funeral and struggled with insomnia for months.”

  “That must have been an incredibly difficult time for you.”

  “It still is.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. You can put the past behind you and enjoy a rich, fulfilling life.”

  A pained expression darkened his face. “I don’t deserve to be happy,” he said coolly. “I messed up, and because of my selfishness and stupidity, my nephew’s gone forever.”

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Then let it go.” Sharleen held his gaze, didn’t back down when anger blazed like fire in the depths of his eyes. “Instead of punishing yourself for something you can’t change, do something to honor your nephew’s memory.”

  Surprise flickered across his face, and he stared at her for a long, tense moment.

  “Start a charity foundation in his name, establish a scholarship program for low-income students or share your personal story with a parent support group,” she continued. “Speaking publicly about your loss will be a cathartic, worthwhile experience that could help change lives.”

  Emilio raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t going to boss me around or cram your opinions down my throat?”

  “I’m not. I’m simply making a few helpful suggestions. The decision is ultimately yours.”

  “I like your suggestions.”

  And I like how you make me feel.

  Relaxing on the patio, talking with Emilio, Sharleen marveled at how open and honest he was. He was making progress, slowly coming out of his shell, and she was thrilled about it. As the night wore on, he revealed more details about himself. Things Sharleen was shocked to discover. He’d been bullied as a child, felt enormous pressure to live up to his father’s expectations, and despite his illustrious racing career, he struggled with self-doubt. “Are you close to your other siblings or just Francesca?” she asked.

  “My older brother and I used to be tight, but we haven’t spoken in years.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Emilio tugged at his collar, avoided her gaze. “I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m a pig.”

  “I’m not here to pass judgment. I’m here to support you and help you grow.”

  “I like that.”

  And I like you. Sharleen caught herself before the words left her mouth.

  “I accidentally slept with his fiancée.”

  “How?” she asked, stunned. “You didn’t know they were engaged?”

  “No, but Immanuel’s convinced I seduced her.”

  “Did you?”

  “Family means everything to me, and I’d never do anything to dishonor someone I love.”

  Sharleen believed him, sensed he was telling her the truth. Emilio had nothing to gain by lying to her, and he didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who’d betray his flesh and blood. “Have you tried reaching out to him?”

  “Yes, but with no luck. Immanuel hates my guts, and I don’t blame him. I was a jerk during my racing days and thought the world revolved around me.”

  She widened her eyes and cupped her cheeks with her hands. “A superstar athlete with a massive ego? No, no, say it ain’t so!”

  Emilio laughed, and the sound of his hearty chuckle made her body warm all over.

  “Enough about my dysfunctional family. Let’s talk about you.”

  Caught off guard, she struggled to speak. “What do you, um, want to know?”

  “What do you do on the weekends?”

  “On Saturdays I work from home, and on Sundays I volunteer at The Salvation Army.”

  “How long have you been volunteering there?”

  “Since birth,” she said, with a laugh. “My mother was the director of Outreach Services, so I had no choice. When I wasn’t helping my dad at his shop, I was at the center, lending a hand.”

  “You’re fulfilling her life’s work.”

 
“I prefer to think of it as doing my part. Did you know forty-six million Americans live in poverty?”

  “No, I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t. Maybe one day I’ll volunteer, too.”

  “Why put off tomorrow what you can do today?” Sharleen glanced at her wristwatch. “If we hurry, we can make it to the center in time to serve dinner. They’re always short of volunteers, and they could use a strong, strapping fella like you in the kitchen.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.” She grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth. “Are you coming?”

  “How can I refuse when you asked so nicely?” he teased, his eyes alight with mischief. Emilio took his keys out of his pocket and rose to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, wait, we haven’t paid the bill.”

  “It’s cool. I have a running tab.” He winked and pulled her close to his side. “My cousin Nicco owns the Dolce Vita franchise. He knows I’m good for it.”

  Sharleen sighed in relief. “Thank God. I thought you were pulling a dine and dash!”

  As they stood at the restaurant entrance, waiting for the valet to return with Emilio’s car, he told her more about growing up in Italy, his troubled teenage years and his first amateur race. He spoke with great passion about his career, and Sharleen couldn’t help but wonder if he exhibited the same level of excitement in the bedroom.

  There’s only one way to find out, whispered her inner voice. Tell Emilio you’re attracted to him, and let the chips fall where they may.

  Sharleen chased away the thought, booted it out of her mind. Not because she didn’t desire him—she did, more than she’d ever desired anyone—but deep down, she knew that Emilio Morretti would never be interested in someone like her.

  Chapter 8

  “Got a minute for your favorite client?”

  Antwan glanced up from the document he was reading and dropped his Montblanc pen on his desk. “Emilio? Is that you?” Rising to his feet, he rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and gave his head a hard shake. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me, because you haven’t been to my office in years!”