Seduced by Mr. Right by Pamela Yaye Page A

manner and hit the cue ball so hard it shot down the pool table at lightning-fast speed.
    Ten minutes into the game, Sharleen realized Emilio had no hope of beating her. He was more interested in shooting the breeze with her than playing the game. He asked dozens of questions about her family and career life, and the more they talked, the less tense he seemed, the more relaxed. He was lowering his guard, finally opening up to her, and she was thrilled they were finally getting along. They chatted effortlessly about current topics, their favorite hobbies and activities, and swapped hilarious stories about their childhoods.
    â€œTell me something about you that no one else knows.”
    Sharleen shook her head. “You first.”
    â€œThat’s easy. I’m addicted to golf, ESPN and the video game ‘Need for Speed,’ of course.” He reached out and touched a hand to her cheek. “
And
I have a weakness for women who wear red glasses.”
    â€œSure you do. And I love men with long, curly chest hair!”
    Emilio laughed, and her heart soared. Sharleen didn’t know if he was flirting with her just for the hell of it or because he was genuinely attracted to her, but she enjoyed his attention. Although, she wasn’t a gullible fool—she knew better than to take him seriously.
    Relationships didn’t work, and love didn’t last. Screw their attraction and mind-blowing chemistry. A superstar athlete with legions of female fans couldn’t be trusted, so falling for Emilio was out of the question.
    â€œIf I score here the game is over.”
    Emilio cocked an eyebrow and held up his palms. “What, no trick shot?”
    â€œIf you insist.” Sharleen slid her pool stick behind her back and lowered her hips as if she were doing the limbo. “Nine ball, corner pocket.”
    Holding her breath, Sharleen watched as the cue ball bounced off the rails, sped down the table and dropped into the corner pocket. Thrilled about her win, she danced around the pool table and laughed when the other patrons on the second floor broke into applause.
    â€œCongratulations.”
    â€œWhy, thank you, Mr. Morretti.”
    The epitome of cool, he leaned against the table and crossed his legs at the ankles. “You’re a great player, Ms. Nichols. And beautiful, too.”
    Scared she was going to fall victim to her desire, Sharleen tore her gaze away from his mouth and sipped her drink.
    â€œI thought the World Series Racing fans were zealous, but they’ve got nothing on you!” he said.
    â€œDo you miss racing?”
    â€œPromise you won’t tell Antwan?”
    Sharleen nodded, instinctively moving toward him. She narrowed her eyes, locked in on him, and everyone else in the room faded to the background. “You have my word.”
    â€œRacing is in my blood. It’s what I was born to do. And I feel incomplete without it.”
    â€œThen why don’t you enter the All-Star Race?”
    His tone was filled with skepticism. “What do
you
know about the All-Star Race?”
    â€œI know you won the event three consecutive times,
and
that your last record-breaking win cemented your place in the Hall of Fame,” Sharleen said, glad she’d done her research. “You’re a global icon, with legions of fans, and the league just isn’t the same without you.”
    Smiling politely, he bowed his head. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
    â€œI think you’re being modest.”
    â€œA lot of people had a hand in my professional accomplishments. I had an awesome run and incredible success, but none of it would have happened without the support of my family, my sponsors and my loyal, hardworking pit crew...”
    Having coached high-profile clients with monster-size egos before, Sharleen was surprised by Emilio’s humility. He wasn’t trying to impress her or putting on airs; he was speaking from the heart, and it