Читать книгу Seduced by Mr. Right - Pamela Yaye - Страница 13
Оглавление“Tell me more about your background.”
To buy herself some time, Sharleen picked up her glass and tasted her diet cola. The cold, sweet liquid tickled her taste buds and coursed down her throat in a gush. It didn’t help cool her body down. Her temperature continued to climb, and perspiration drenched her skin. Emilio Morretti—the race-car driver with the quiet, soft-spoken nature—was to blame for her symptoms. Had to be. Why else was her heart racing and her hormones raging out of control? It was hard to concentrate with Emilio around, impossible to think clearly. Every time their eyes met, Sharleen lost her train of thought. Like right now. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember his question.
“Don’t be shy.” Emilio sat across from her at the small wooden table, cutting up his T-bone steak, his gaze never leaving her face. “You’re a fascinating young woman, and I’m enjoying your company very much.”
Me? Fascinating? Really? But I’m a nobody, just a regular girl. “Thanks, but I’m older than you think.” Sharleen paused, debated whether to divulge the truth. Over the past hour, Emilio had asked her tons of personal questions but had revealed little about himself. To gain his trust, she spoke openly. “I’m twenty-seven, but to be honest, I feel decades older. Everyone says I have an old soul, and it’s true. I love crocheting, vintage clothes and The Beatles.”
“We’re kindred souls, then.”
“We are?” she asked. “You crochet, too?”
Emilio chuckled. “No, but I have every song The Beatles ever recorded and a vinyl record player as well.”
“No way! Me too!”
“You should come over sometime and check out my music library. It’s quite impressive.”
His tone was free of arrogance, but Sharleen sensed his pride, felt it radiating off him in waves. “I’d be honored,” she said, touched by the offer. “Thanks for the invitation.”
“Drop by my estate whenever your schedule permits.”
For some reason, the thought of being alone with Emilio at his mansion excited her. Slow your roll, girl. He’s a client, not your soul mate. Sharleen didn’t have a “type,” never had, and often teased her girlfriends who had a boyfriend checklist. But as the night wore on, she realized Emilio was everything she wanted in a man, and more. He was one of a kind, in a class all by himself. Cultured, sophisticated and chivalrous, he made her feel emotions she’d never experienced before, and everything about him—his eyes, his boyish smile, his foreign accent—was a turn-on.
“Were you raised in Atlanta, or did you relocate like everyone else in this fine city?”
Struggling to keep a straight face, Sharleen raised her right hand, as if she were pledging allegiance to the flag, and said, “I’m a native. Scout’s honor.”
“Great. The next time I need a tour guide I know just who to call.”
A witty retort tickled her tongue, but Sharleen slammed her mouth shut. She was supposed to be evaluating Emilio, not flirting with him.
