by Pamela Yaye
Startled by the urgency in Jocelyn’s tone, Sharleen raced into the foyer. The first thing she noticed was all the shopping bags on the floor; the second was the wide-eyed expression on her friend’s face. “What’s going on?” Sharleen asked, dumbfounded.
“A delivery guy just brought all this inside and sped off in his truck. I tried to get his name, but he was gone in the blink of an eye.”
“Where did all these bags come from?”
Jocelyn pointed at the shiny purple logo on the top of the garment bags. “Fashion Starr, of course! And it looks like someone bought you their entire summer collection!”
Sharleen crouched and peeked inside the shopping bags. Jocelyn was right; there were thousands of dollars’ worth of designer clothes, shoes and accessories. The high-end boutique catered to socialites with money to burn—and tiny waistlines—so she was shocked to discover all of the outfits were in her size.
With Jocelyn’s help, she carried the bags into her bedroom and dumped them on the bed.
“I feel like I’ve died and gone to retail heaven!” Jocelyn joked, carefully admiring each article of clothing. She picked up a striped, one-shoulder bathing suit and whistled. “Wow, this is some suit. You’re going to be the sexiest woman at the beach this summer...”
Her thoughts returned to the conversation she’d had with Emilio, weeks earlier, about their trip to Miami, and Sharleen knew, without a doubt, that Emilio was behind the gift.
He’d gone to Fashion Starr, selected the clothes and arranged to have them delivered to her house.
Her gaze strayed to the clock on her nightstand. She wanted to call Emilio to thank him for the presents, but since she didn’t want Jocelyn to hear their conversation, she decided to phone him later, after she dropped her friend at home.
“I knew Antwan had a crush on you, but I didn’t realize he liked you this much.”
“Antwan didn’t buy the clothes. Emilio Morretti did.”
“The Italian race-car driver you’re coaching?”
Sharleen nodded, hid the smile threatening to explode onto her lips. “The one and only.”
“Holy Hannah!”
Jocelyn leaped to her feet, gripped Sharleen’s shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating a living legend? How long has this been going on? Is Emilio a good kisser? Do you think he could be the one?”
Yes, and the more time we spend together the more I love him.
“Start talking,” Jocelyn ordered. “I want to hear everything.”
“Emilio’s not my boyfriend—”
“Your eyes light up when you say his name.”
“I’m thrilled about the progress he’s made the past couple months, that’s all,” she said, avoiding her friend’s gaze. “Our first few sessions were rough, but now he’s opening up more, attending group therapy sessions and even reading self-help books.”
“You’ve got the hots for him. It’s written all over your face.”
“I want to help Emilio overcome the pain of his past and give him the necessary tools to move forward in life. Sleeping with him is the furthest thing from my mind.”
Liar! her inner voice yelled. It’s the only thing on your mind, and you know it!
“Does he know that you’re—”
“No, and I’m not going to tell him.” Sharleen struggled with her words, but after a few moments of quiet deliberation, she spoke from the heart. “I’m scared if I tell Emilio the truth, he’ll run for the hills, and I don’t want to lose him. He’s an amazing guy, and I love spending time with him.”
“Well, the feeling is definitely mutual,” Jocelyn said, gesturing to the shopping bags covering the queen-size bed. “Look at all this stuff. Emilio’s trying to impress you, and for good reason. You’re a terrific girl, and I knew it was just a matter of time before a rich, handsome guy swept you off your pretty little feet.”
Was Jocelyn right? Was it possible Emilio had fallen for her, too?
“I’m happy for you, but be careful. I don’t want you to get—”
“I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Emilio’s out of my league, and he’ll only end up hurting me in the end.”
“That’s not what I was going to say. If Mrs. Fontaine finds out you’re dating a client, she’ll fire you, so be careful who you confide in about Emilio.”
The doorbell rang, and Jocelyn whooped for joy.
“Finally! I thought the pizza would never get here,” she said, laughing. “I’ll be right back.”
Sharleen watched Jocelyn leave, then swiped her cell phone off the dresser and went into the bathroom. She locked the door and dialed Emilio’s number. He answered on the first ring, and the moment she heard his voice the smile in her heart spread to her lips. His accent is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and every time he says my name I melt.
“I was just thinking of you,” he said smoothly. “Do you like your new Miami wardrobe?”
“Yes, of course, thank you, but I wish you hadn’t gone to the trouble.”
“It was no trouble at all. You’re important to me, and I wanted you to feel special.”
“Well, you certainly succeeded in doing that. I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”
“Great. Mission accomplished!”
They laughed together.
“I miss you,” he said, his voice a sensuous whisper. “Come over tonight.”
“I can’t. I have company.”
“I told you I don’t want to share you with other guys.”
“Emilio, relax. I’m hanging out with Jocelyn, not Leonardo DiCaprio!”
He laughed, scolded her for being a smart-ass and vowed to get even. “I’m excited about our trip to Miami, and I hope you are, too...”
I am, but I’m nervous about our sleeping arrangements.
“Are you all packed and ready to go?” he asked.
“I’ll finish packing tomorrow after work.”
“I thought you were taking the day off?”
“I can’t. Channel 6 News is doing a feature story on Mrs. Fontaine, and she wants staff on hand for pictures and interviews.”
“I’m picking you up at six. Don’t forget. And pack everything I bought you.”
“Okay, pops, I will,” she drawled, unable to resist poking fun at him.
“I love it when you call me Big Poppa!”
Sharleen cracked up, laughed so hard tears spilled down her cheeks.
When they ended the phone call, she joined Jocelyn in the kitchen, but thoughts of Emilio remained. From the very beginning she’d known there was something special about him. It was the way he spoke to her, his chivalrous, old-fashioned ways and his gentle nature. He never raised his voice, never lost his cool and treated everyone—from his butler to his gardener—with respect. And as Sharleen sat at the kitchen table, sipping her cocktail, she wondered if she’d be able to resist him in Miami.
Chapter 12
Sharleen rose from her desk, spent a few minutes stretching her tired, aching muscles and strode out of her office. Since arriving at Pathways that morning, she’d been working nonstop, and this was her only chance to take a break before her three o’clock session. Most of her colleagues had left for the day, and the few who remained were in the reception area chatting about their plans for the Memorial Day weekend. The center was infused with sunlight, the air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and the framed quotes hanging on the walls invigorated her.
Sharleen caught sight of the clock hanging above the fish tank, and her thoughts turned to Emilio. They were leaving for Miami that evening, and after a long, stressful week, she was looking forward to having some fun in the sun. She’d packed yesterday, but still had misgivings about wearing the outfits
Emilio had bought her. What if people stare? What if they point at me? And most importantly, what will Emilio think when he sees my—
“I can’t do this anymore. It’s too stressful,” said a female voice from inside the staff room.
Frowning, she stopped abruptly in the hallway. She wondered if one of her colleagues was having an emotional breakdown. It happened more often than her boss cared to admit, and these days nothing that happened at Pathways Center surprised her.
Sharleen knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she leaned against the staff-room door and listened for several minutes.
“It’s not over until I say it’s over, and if you tell Mrs. Fontaine about us, I’ll post naked pictures of you online. Don’t tempt me. I’ll do it.”
“You can’t,” a high-pitched voice wailed. “My parents are ministers pastoring in Augusta. They’d be mortified.”
“Then do what I say, or else.”
Enraged, Sharleen threw open the door and stalked inside. Brad was in the kitchen with his back to her, and a buxom intern with curly brown hair was cornered against the microwave stand.
Her eyes narrowed, zeroed in on him with acute precision. He had one hand inside the intern’s blouse, the other underneath her skirt and his mouth against her neck. “Let her go.”
The intern gasped and jumped in the air. Wiping her tearstained cheeks, she straightened her clothes and fled the room as if her life was in grave danger.
“What’s up?” Brad wore an arch grin. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m going to report you to the human-resources department for—”
“There’s nothing to tell. I came in here to grab a drink.” He gestured to the coffee mug on the table. Beside it was an iPhone, a stack of envelopes and a BLT sandwich. “Focus on doing your job, not stirring up malicious gossip.”
“When Mrs. Fontaine finds out you’re harassing female staff, she’ll fire you.”
“No, she won’t. I have more celebrity clients than anyone else, and thanks to me, the center has grown in leaps and bounds the past nine years. And,” he said, his tone dripping with pride, “I’m a shoo-in for the vice-president position.”
Sharleen rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe his nerve, his complete and utter disregard for everyone.
“I have things to do and people to see,” he boasted. “See you around, toots.”
“Off to terrorize another intern?” she said, too angry to bite her tongue.
“If you must know, I’m off to meet Zoe Archer-Ross at her Brookhaven mansion.” He adjusted his marine-blue tie and buttoned his suit jacket. “Since your friend was dumb enough to get fired, I took on all of her old clients. It sucks to be Jocelyn, but it’s great to be me!”
As she stood there, listening to Brad bad-mouth her best friend, she had to resist punching him in the face. He deserved no less for what he’d done to Jocelyn. She’d have the last laugh, though. No doubt about it. Once she landed the VP position, she was getting rid of him once and for all, and no one was going to stop her.
“How’s Jocelyn doing?” He cocked an eyebrow and licked his lips suggestively. “I should swing by her place later. I bet she’d like that.”
“You’re delusional. You’re the last person she wants to see.”
“And you’re jealous. I have girlfriends in every county, and you have no one.”
You’re wrong. I have Emilio, and he’s all the man I need.
“You wish you had a man like me,” he bragged. “I’m the kind of lover women dream about. Ask Jocelyn.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Sharleen struggled to keep a straight face. “Erectile dysfunction is nothing to be ashamed of, Brad. There’s help available. My aunt Phyllis is a urologist with decades of experience helping impotent men like you. Do you want her business card?”
His face fell, and the grin slid off his mouth.
“Stop harassing Jocelyn, or we’ll go to the police and file a complaint.”
“What for?”
“You drugged her and lured her into bed.”
“That’s a lie,” he argued, his voice a nervous squeak. “We had consensual sex.”
Curling her hands into fists, she stared him down. “I don’t think the new female district attorney will see it that way. She’s tough on crime, and after she hears Jocelyn’s heartbreaking story, you’ll be booked so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“It’s her word against mine, and I have friends in high places.”
“A hair-follicle test will prove she’s telling the truth.”
Brad tugged at the collar of his dress shirt.
“You’re looking at serious charges and years behind bars.” Sharleen saw the color drain from his face, the flicker of fear that flashed in his eyes. She knew, without a doubt, that her suspicions were true. “Leave Jocelyn alone, or she’ll go to the cops.”
Her legs felt like rubber, but she marched toward the door. Without warning, Brad grabbed her arm and slid in front of her. He looked out of it, like a crazed man with nothing to lose. His nostrils were flaring, his face was quivering with rage and he was shouting his words. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you’re better than me, but you’re not...”
Panic welled up inside her, made it impossible to breathe, to think. Self-preservation kicked in, and she wrestled her arm away. Sharleen stepped on Brad’s foot and broke free of his fierce grip. He staggered back into the table like a drunk and knocked over his mug. Coffee drenched everything on the table and dripped onto the floor.
Brad yelped, as if he’d been bitten by a dog. “You stupid bitch!” he shouted, scooping up his dripping cell phone. He ran into the kitchen, wiped it with a dish towel and tapped the screen. “It won’t work! You destroyed it!”
The door flew open, and Mrs. Fontaine stalked inside. “Brad, what’s going on?” she asked. “I can hear you shouting from the other side of the building, and so can the crew from Channel 6 News. Are you trying to embarrass me?”
“It’s not my fault.” Brad raised his iPhone. “That stupid bitch destroyed my cell phone!”
Mrs. Fontaine narrowed her eyes and propped her hands on her hips. “I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior at my clinic.”
“You don’t understand,” he argued.
“You owe Ms. Nichols an apology.”
Brad scoffed. “Like hell I do.”
Tension filled the room, and a long, awkward silence followed. No one spoke, and as the seconds ticked by, Sharleen wondered if Brad’s outburst was going to cost him his job. I sure hope so! she thought, glancing from her enemy to her boss. Brad’s an embarrassment to this company, and he doesn’t deserve to be a life coach.
“Pathways Center is a safe, peaceful environment, and I won’t allow you to abuse my staff and clients.” Mrs. Fontaine spoke calmly, as if she were in complete control, but her face was covered in anger. “I’d like to have a word with you in my office to discuss this matter further.”
Brad stalked out of the room, mumbling to himself, and Sharleen released the breath she’d been holding. Before she could even think of what to say to smooth things over with her boss, Mrs. Fontaine rested an arm on her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about that. Brad’s behavior was completely uncalled for, and I want you to know I am taking this matter very seriously.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fontaine.”
“Will you be around this evening? I’d like to hear your side of the story.”
“No, I, um, have an eight o’clock session with Emilio Morretti,” she said, the white lie rolling smoothly off her tongue. Her contract had ended with him yesterday, so technically she wasn’t his life coach anymore, but the less her boss knew about their relationship the better. “He wants to discuss renewing our contract. Do you want me to cancel?”
“N
o, of course not. Mr. Morretti is an important client, and I don’t want to disappoint him. We’ll talk one day next week.”
Sharleen felt her cell phone vibrate inside her blazer, but she didn’t answer until Mrs. Fontaine turned and left the staff room. It was Emilio, and hearing his voice instantly calmed her nerves. He sounded relaxed, as if he were stretched out by his pool sipping a glass of merlot. The image of him in swim trunks made her mouth dry. “Hi, Emilio,” she said, suddenly feeling upbeat. “How are you?”
“Terrible. I miss you.”
“I saw you on Tuesday, remember? We had dinner at Restaurant Eugene.”
“I know, but it feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she teased, with a laugh. “You should consider a career in movies, Mr. Morretti. You’re quite the actor.”
“And you’re quite the beauty.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Sharleen said, in a singsong voice.
“Will it help me win your heart?”
Goose bumps tickled her skin, and her pulse roared in her ears. Sharleen wished she could stay on the phone with Emilio, but she had to warn Jocelyn about Brad. There was a good chance he’d show up at her house unannounced, and she wanted to give her friend a heads-up. “I have to go,” she said, apologetically. “I have an important call to make.”
“I’ll be at your place by six. Don’t forget to pack your bathing suit.”
“How can I forget when you keep reminding me?”
Emilio chuckled. “’Bye, gorgeous. See you in a few.”
* * *
Emilio hung up and put his cell phone into his shirt pocket. His smile couldn’t be any bigger, any brighter. Having Sharleen in his life made him feel invigorated, as if he could do anything. Emilio was anxious to see her, ready to finally kick off their romantic weekend, but he had an important stop to make before he picked her up. I hope Sharleen loves flowers, because I’m going to have dozens of roses delivered to our cottage at the Fisher Island Club.
Standing, he swiped his car keys off the dresser and jogged downstairs to the main floor. As he reached the foyer, he saw his sister enter the house through the front door using her key. All dolled up like a pop princess, her glittery eye makeup, pink jumpsuit and sky-high heels screamed for attention. “I got here just in the nick of time,” Francesca said, whipping off her Prada sunglasses. “We can talk during the drive to the track.”
