Pamela Yaye - Seduced by Mr. Right

“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.”

You can say that again! He’s tall, dark and handsome, and he sounds delicious, too!

“I know you normally do your sessions by phone, but I need you to be more hands-on with Emilio, more accessible.” Antwan took his sunglasses out of his back pocket and slipped them on. “Weekly phone calls and emails aren’t going to cut it either. It’s a bitch getting him on the phone, and these days he rarely uses his computer.”

“What do you expect me to do? Club him in the head with my Birkin bag and drag him down to my office?”

Antwan chuckled. “You’re as saucy and feisty as ever!”

“I’m serious. I’m a life coach. Not a fairy godmother. There’s only so much I can do.”

“You’re one of the most persuasive people I’ve ever met, and if you can’t convince Emilio to come out of retirement, no one can.”

“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to help him fulfill his dreams.”

“All he’s ever wanted was to be a race-car driver. Losing his nephew shook him to the core, but I’m confident he can be a champion again.” Antwan continued his pitch full speed ahead. “Do your weekly sessions here at his estate and treat Emilio like a friend, not a client.”

His know-it-all tone irked her. “I can’t drive to Greensboro three days a week. I have other clients and obligations to fulfill—”

“What if I sweeten the deal?” He cocked his head and flashed a devilish grin. “If you convince Emilio to come out of retirement, I’ll give you a $10,000 bonus.”

Sharleen felt her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth fall open.

“Emilio and I are meeting at Halftime Bar on Friday night, and I want you to join us. Hanging out with him at his favorite pub will definitely help break the ice.”

“Antwan, I can’t,” she said, finding her voice. “I already have plans.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “With whom?”

“We’re having a retirement party for my uncle, and if I’m a no-show, my aunt Phyllis will beat me like I stole something!”

“Great sacrifices produce great rewards. Isn’t that your personal motto?”

Sharleen hit Antwan with a pointed look. He was twisting her words, but she didn’t have the time nor the patience to debate the issue with him. Her priority was her family, and she wasn’t going to let Antwan make her feel guilty for having a personal life. “Maybe next time.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” His tone carried a bitter edge, but he smiled and waved as he hopped into his SUV. “I’ll be in touch. Take care.”

Sharleen unlocked her car door and slid inside. Deep down, she wasn’t upset that Emilio had kicked her out of his estate; she was relieved. It just wasn’t meant to be, she decided, shrugging her shoulders. But all wasn’t lost. She had two more consultations lined up for that afternoon and several booked for later that week. Unlike Emilio, those clients were eager for professional help and desperate to change their lives. Encouraged, Sharleen turned on the engine, cranked up the radio and exited the tree-lined estate.

Chapter 3

Pathways Center was in an attractive plaza filled with glitzy boutiques, cafés and beauty salons. It had several high-end stores, and as Sharleen left Samson’s Gym on Friday morning, she noticed the parking lot was packed. It was only ten o’clock, but the plaza was filled with couples, well-dressed businessmen and children begging their parents for toys and ice cream.

It was another warm spring day, and Sharleen felt invigorated by the signs of the season. The air held the scent of flowers; the sky was free of clouds and gleaming with sunshine. Strolling down the street, soaking up the sun, Sharleen greeted everyone she passed with a nod and a smile. Exercising always improved her mood, and even though she wasn’t as flexible as the other women in her Stiletto Aerobics class, doing high-kicks in her favorite pair of Jimmy Choo shoes made her feel invincible, as if she could conquer the world. And I will, she vowed, fervently nodding her head. I’m going to get that VP position if it’s the last thing I do!

Reaching Pathways Center, Sharleen pushed open the door and strode inside. Attractive furniture, European artwork and vibrant area rugs decorated the waiting area. Waving to the receptionist, Sharleen collected her messages and continued down the hallway, anxious to get down to work.

Entering her office, she dropped her tote bag on the couch and opened the window blinds. Sunshine spilled into the room, making the space feel warm and bright. Her gaze landed on the red sports car double-parked in front of the bank. Emilio Morretti’s face popped into her mind, and try as she might, she couldn’t get rid of the sexy image. She’d thought of him last night and wondered how he was doing. Had he given any thought to what she’d said, or was he still in a miserable funk? Sharleen considered calling Antwan to find out but struck the idea from her mind. She had a busy day ahead of her, and she didn’t have time to shoot the breeze with her friend.

At her desk, she turned on her computer and took out her leather-bound journal. For the rest of the morning, Sharleen reviewed client profiles, updated her schedule and edited her online newsletter. Hours slipped by, and when lunch came and went she decided to take a break. Eager to speak to her colleague and best friend, Jocelyn Calhoun, she scooped up her desk phone and punched in her number. She’d left Jocelyn two messages yesterday, but still hadn’t heard back from her. That was unlike the social-media queen. Her iPhone never left her side, and she always responded to texts within seconds—unless she was watching Dating in the City .

“Hey, girl, it’s me,” Sharleen said, tapping her pen absently on her desk calendar. “I haven’t heard from you all day and just wanted to touch base. Give me a ring, or swing by my office when you get in. I’ll be here for the rest of the day, so stop by. We really need to talk.”

Hanging up the phone, she glanced at the wall clock above the door. Her next session didn’t start for an hour, but if she was going to survive her conversation with the disgruntled housewife from Malibu, she needed to meditate. Like exercising, it was an unshakable part of her daily routine, and she felt ineffective without it. Sharleen loved her career and couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else, but being a life coach was emotionally and mentally draining.