Seduced by Mr. Right (17 page)

“I have ten thousand new Twitter followers, and online searches for Pathways Center have surged by one hundred percent!” Her eyes were bright with excitement. “I told you to create more buzz and attract more clients, and you delivered big-time.”

“My feelings for Emilio are real. It's not something I played up for the cameras,” Sharleen said. “Emilio's not the bad-boy athlete the blogs make him out to be. He's sensitive and compassionate, and I love spending time with him.”

Mrs. Fontaine's eyebrows rose and fell quickly. “I bet you do. One of his ex-lovers gave a tell-all interview with Channel 6 News this morning, and she said he's
very
well-endowed.”

Too shocked to speak, she stared at her boss.

“I understand. Your hormones got the best of you, but don't do anything stupid like fall in love. It doesn't last.” Mrs. Fontaine's voice carried a bitter edge, and a scowl twisted her lips. “Emilio's a superstar athlete who'll never be faithful to you.”

Sharleen remained silent, stunned. Her body was weary, desperate for sleep, and thinking about her troubled relationship only made her feel worse.

“You have what it takes to go far in this business, and I'd hate for you to throw it all away for a guy who'll never commit to you.”

A headache pounded in her temples, and her throat closed up. Something Emilio had said weeks earlier, during one of their morning coaching sessions, came back to mind, and Sharleen smiled despite the overwhelming weight of her sadness.

“I never wanted a family for fear of losing them one day, but then I met you and now it's all I think about,”
he'd said, pulling her into his arms and brushing his lips softly against hers.
“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

The memory brought her comfort, filled her with hope. Sharleen admired Mrs. Fontaine and thought she was a smart businesswoman, but she was wrong about Emilio. They were soul mates, not just sex buddies, and he'd never do anything to hurt her.

“I hope you have more ideas on how to attract new clients, because our LA clinic opens next month, and the more publicity the better.”

“I became a life coach to help people transform their lives, not to become famous. If you can't respect that, I'll have no choice but to resign.”

Mrs. Fontaine's eyes filled with fear, and the smile slid off her face. “Y-you don't mean that,” she stammered, fussing with her scarf.

“Yes, I do. I can always freelance or start my own clinic right here in Atlanta...”

“You wouldn't!”

Sharleen cocked her head to the right. “Just watch me.”

“I want us to be partners, not adversaries—”

“Then make me an offer I can't refuse.”

The silence was deafening, and several seconds ticked off the wall clock.

“I'll increase your salary by ten percent
and
give you six weeks' paid vacation...” Mrs. Fontaine began.

“
And
you'll rehire Jocelyn,” Sharleen said. “Jocelyn deserves her old job back, and that's one issue I won't concede on.”

Mrs. Fontaine sat back in her chair, then slowly nodded her head. “It's a deal.”

The women shook hands and shared a smile.

“To celebrate your promotion I've arranged a small soiree tonight at Dolce Vita at six o'clock,” Mrs. Fontaine explained. “You're more than welcome to invite Emilio, and your family members as well.”

Sharleen struggled with her words. She was thrilled about her promotion and wanted to celebrate with her friends and colleagues at her favorite restaurant, but she wanted to see Emilio before he left for Milan.
Should I go to my promotion party or Emilio's estate?
It was the biggest decision of Sharleen's life, and she didn't know what to do.

Chapter 19

“A
re you sure you want to do this?”

Emilio scowled at his silver-haired pit-crew chief, wishing the loud Irishman would leave him alone. Lockland Walsh was working his last nerve, and he was sick of his questions. On Fridays the Atlanta Motor Speedway was filled with race-car fans of all ages desperate for a behind-the-scenes view of America's most dangerous and thrilling sport, and Emilio wanted to give the cheering spectators a good show. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Kill the attitude. I'm not in the mood for your crap today.” Lockland limped around the car, inspecting the tires, stress lines wrinkling his forehead. “Have you talked to your girl yet?”

“What does that have to do with me going for a spin around the track?”

“You're kidding, right? You've been off this week, and you know it. You clipped a visitor tour bus on Monday afternoon, and yesterday you drove over my foot.”

Emilio dropped his gaze to the ground, so Lockland couldn't see the guilt in his eyes. He'd apologized and bought his pit-crew boss dinner to make amends, but he still felt horrible for hurting the grandfather of six. “It was an honest mistake,” he mumbled, for lack of anything better to say. “It could happen to anybody.”

“Get your head in the game,” Lockland said, leveling a finger at him. “Focus.”

Emilio nodded and tugged on his leather gloves. “I know what I'm doing. I got this.”

“You better, or you'll end up in a body cast!”

The other guys in his pit crew snickered.

Hearing whistles and cheers, Emilio glanced over his shoulder. Hundreds of people were standing against the metal fence, waving signs bearing his name and image. If he weren't in such a funk, he would have signed autographs for the children. He'd tossed and turned all night, reliving his argument with Sharleen, unable to put his sister's accusations out of his mind.

“I don't have all day. Get in and get going.” Lockland clapped him hard on the shoulder and steered him over to the track. “Three laps should suffice.”

Emilio put on his helmet and slid inside his custom-made Ferrari. He was going to miss using it for practice, but now that he had a new and improved race car he didn't need it anymore. Thankfully, Antwan had found a buyer, and Emilio could pay off his tax bill and put the whole ugly incident with the IRS behind him.

“Take it nice and easy. The media hounds are out here again today, looking for a story, so don't do anything crazy,” he warned, his gaze darting around the field. “Come back in one piece.”

Lockland tapped the hood of the car, signaling the track was clear, and Emilio took off down the strip like a rocket. He switched gears, and as his speed climbed...ninety...one hundred...one hundred and twenty...his excitement grew. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, gave him a mind-blowing rush. He loved being behind the wheel of his race car, loved how invincible he felt whipping around the track at two hundred miles an hour. There was nothing quite like it, no greater high—

You mean, besides making love to Sharleen, right?
You lose control every time she clamps her legs around your waist.

Distracted by the erotic image that popped into his mind, he lost control of the car. It jerked violently to the left and spun out onto the grass. He maneuvered it back onto the track and slowly increased his speed. He knew Lockland was going to give him hell for daydreaming, but he struggled to focus, to keep his head in the game. Every day, nonstop, he thought about Sharleen and nothing else.

That morning, while he was washing his motorcycle, Antwan had stormed into his garage. Their argument played in Emilio's mind as he completed his second lap around the track.

“Why did you give Sharleen a ten-thousand-dollar bonus?” Emilio had asked, crossing his arms.

“Because you're a handful, and I didn't want her to quit!”

He'd been annoyed, pissed off by his manager's joke, but it was what Antwan had said seconds later that made his blood boil.

“Sharleen's going on tour with Rashad J,” he'd said. “She leaves for LA tonight at six o'clock.”

“What? That's insane! She just started working with him last week.”

“I know, but he's been acting a fool for months, and label execs at Urban Beats Records need someone tough like Sharleen to keep him in line during his eighteen-city tour...”

Emilio gripped the steering wheel, imagined it was Rashad J's neck. Taking a deep breath didn't stop his mind from racing out of control. Was he overthinking things? Assuming the worst because ex-friends, lovers and relatives had betrayed his trust and used him to gain wealth and popularity? Emilio wasn't taking any chances. Not where Sharleen was concerned. He'd made a mistake walking out on her on Monday and had to apologize immediately. Punching the gas pedal with his foot, he felt the car zoom around the corner and fly down the track.
One more lap, then I'm out of here!
He had to see Sharleen before she left town. It was stressful, nerve-racking to think she was off somewhere with Rashad J.

Emilio banished the thought from his mind, refused to entertain it. He didn't want the Bedroom Maestro putting the moves on his girlfriend and realized, in that moment, how foolish he'd been. Sharleen hadn't forced him to come out of retirement—he'd made the decision alone. His love of the sport had been the driving factor, not anything she'd ever said or did during their coaching sessions.

Memories of better days, of all the times they'd talked and laughed, warmed his heart. Emilio pictured Sharleen now, in his mind's eye, and smiled for the first time in days. He'd never met anyone more loving and sincere and knew in his heart that she was the woman he was destined to spend his life with. Emilio wanted her back in his arms, where she belonged. But to get back in her good graces he'd have to humble himself...

As Emilio approached the finish line, he spotted a curvy female silhouette in a bold, mustard-yellow dress. He was seeing things, had to be, because the woman standing beside Lockland looked like Sharleen. His pulse pounded in his ear, and his heart soared to the sky. Emilio leaned forward in his seat, peered through the windshield, tried to focus his gaze.
It really
was
Sharleen!

His chest puffed up with pride, as if he'd just won another championship, and a grin curled his lips. Seeing Sharleen made him more determined than ever to win her back. Her red lips held a pretty smile, her loose curls flapped in the breeze, and her figure-hugging dress was eye-catching. Emilio couldn't stop staring at her. His gaze slid over her chest, her hips, and down her silky brown legs. He licked his lips, remembered how incredible it felt being inside her and suddenly lost control of the wheel for the second time.

Emilio slammed on the brakes, stopping safely just in time. He jumped out of the car. He took off his helmet and gloves and tossed them to the ground. His pit crew ran over, wearing bewildered looks, but he ignored them. Sharleen had come to see him, and nothing else mattered.

She strode confidently toward him...twenty feet...ten feet...five feet... Emilio told himself not to rush her, to play it cool. But when she was close, he seized her around the waist and swept her into his arms. He inhaled her perfume, allowed the sweet, floral scent to wash over him. He couldn't keep his hands off of her, stroked her neck, shoulders and hips. Emilio didn't know how long he stood there, holding Sharleen, but when she pulled away he felt a profound sense of disappointment.

“I'm glad you're here,” he said, with a broad smile. “I missed you.”

“I didn't want you to leave for Milan until we cleared the air—”

“What makes you think I'm going to Milan?”

“Aren't you? Antwan told me you're leaving tonight for the Classic Car Show.”

He returned her puzzled look. “Wait...aren't you going on tour with Rashad J?”

“No way!” she said, adamantly shaking her head. “The record label asked, but I refused. Why?”

Emilio hung his head. “Damn, I can't believe it. Antwan punked us again.”

“That snake!” Sharleen said. “Let's go kick some butt at Elite Management.”

“Slow down, Foxy Cleopatra!” he joked, affectionately patting her on the hips. “We can't kill Antwan. He brought us back together.”

“You're right, but I still want to egg his office!”

He laughed. “God, I missed you,” he said, nuzzling his chin against her cheek.

“Then why didn't you return any of my calls and texts?”

Emilio spotted a lanky photographer scaling the fence and tightened his hold around her waist. “Let's go to my private suite. We can talk there.”

They walked through the pedestrian tunnel, past the gift shop and into the suite. It had theater-style seats, a fully stocked bar and flat-screen TVs. It offered panoramic views of the track and everything a fan could want while watching the big race. Emilio sat in his favorite chair and pulled Sharleen down on his lap. He loved feeling her warmth, stroking her skin and playing in her lush, thick hair.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked. “I didn't even know I was coming to practice until I pulled into the parking lot!”

“Francesca told me where to find you.”

His eyes widened.
My sister did
what
?

“I went to your estate, and Francesca invited me inside. I told her the truth about the bonus, my friendship with Antwan and my professional background. I wanted her to know I'm not after your money, and that I have a career I'm proud of.”

“I appreciate that, Sharleen. I had a long talk with Francesca this morning during breakfast, and she admitted that she's jealous of you—”

“That's crazy! Why?”

“Because you're everything she's not. Ambitious, successful and financially independent.” To make her laugh, Emilio cocked an eyebrow and wiggled his nose. “
And
you have a rich, handsome boyfriend, too.”

“Yeah, a rich, handsome boyfriend who walked out on me four days ago.”

He heard the pain in her voice, the sadness, and felt like a jerk for hurting her feelings. Her words tore him up inside, made him feel guilty for losing his cool that day. “I'm sorry,” he said, tenderly stroking her hands. “I was angry, and I knew if I didn't walk away I'd end up saying something I'd regret.”

“I thought we had something special, Emilio. I thought you loved me—”

“I do,” he insisted, desperate to get through to her. “One argument won't change the way I feel about you, Sharleen. I adore you, and that will never change.”

“How could you think I'd betray you? That I'd ever do anything to hurt you?”

Emilio coughed to clear the lump in his throat. He wasn't raised to share his feelings, and had long buried the pain of his past, but he wanted Sharleen to know the truth. “Before I was a race-car driver, nobody wanted anything to do with me. I was a shy, overweight teenager. But once I won my first championship, I couldn't keep the girls off me.”

Sharleen leaned into him and nodded.

“I've had my fair share of one-night stands, but I've never had a serious relationship.”

“Never?”

“Never,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Francesca's always looked out for me, so when she told me about the bonus and showed me the pictures online I assumed the worst. I felt stupid, as if you'd tricked me. I thought the only reason you slept with me was to advance your career.”

“Emilio, I'm not that kind of girl. I don't care about fame. I only care about you.”

“I know, and deep down in my heart I knew I was wrong. But it wasn't until I spoke to Antwan that I realized how stupid I'd been.”

“What are we going to do about Francesca? I still don't think she likes me.”

“Leave her to me. She'll come around.”

“And if she doesn't?”

“Then I'll buy her something expensive from Louis Vuitton, write your name on the card and have it delivered to her apartment. Trust me, she'll be your new BFF!”

Sharleen laughed and playfully swatted his shoulder. “Emilio, stop it. I'm serious.”

“So am I. You mean everything to me, and I won't let anyone tear us apart.”

“I got the VP position,” she said, a shy smile on her glossy red lips. “I officially start on Monday.”

“Congratulations, baby. You deserve it, and I'm proud of you.”

A look of pure joy covered her face. “You are? You really mean that?”

“Of course I am.” He met her gaze, lovingly stared into her eyes. “Your career is important to you, so it's important to me. But there's no way in hell I'm letting you travel alone with Rashad J or any of your other male clients. That stops now, understood?”

The sound of her effervescent laugh made Emilio feel ten feet high, as if he'd finally done something right. “How did I get so lucky?” he said aloud, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. Antwan tricked us!” Sharleen linked her arms around his neck. “Emilio, I love you with all my heart, and I always will.”

“And I love you. Thank you for making me a better man and for not giving up on me. I haven't felt this good in years, and you're the reason why.”

“What now?” she asked, snuggling against him. “Where do we go from here?”

“Back to my estate to make love for the third, fourth and fifth time...” he whispered, brushing his lips against her earlobe. “You're the best part of me, and I can't live another day without you. I want to go to bed every night and wake up every morning with you in my arms.”

“That could be arranged.” Sharleen tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes at him. “
Mrs. Emilio Morretti
has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

“It sounds like music to my ears.”