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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
.
    â€œHey, 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.
    Unbuttoning her blazer, she kicked off her sandals and sat back in her chair. Blocking out the noises around her, she closed her eyes and exhaled every stress, every anxiety. Sharleen turned toward the window and welcomed the sunlight as it warmed her face. As her thoughts cleared and a sense of peace washed over her, she reflected on the events of the past week.
There were plenty of lows, but only one high.
Desire flared inside her body.
Forty-eight hours after my disastrous consultation with Emilio Morretti, and I’m
still
thinking about him. That’s insane! He’s curt and serious and...and...oh, so dreamy. I wish he was my man.
    For the second time in minutes her thoughts went off track. In her mind’s eye, she saw Emilio stalking toward her. His gaze was intense, and he was wearing a broad grin. One so captivating it made her skin tingle and her heart soar. Emilio took her in his arms, held her close to his chest and caressed her cheeks with his fingertips. Licking her lips, she waited anxiously to feel the pleasure of his kiss. He lowered his mouth to hers, and—
    â€œMs. Nichols, are you okay?”
    Her eyes flew open. Embarrassed that her boss had caught her daydreaming, Sharleen stuffed her feet back into her shoes and stood. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fontaine.”
    â€œMay I have a word with you?”
    Adjusting her glasses, she fervently nodded her head. “Yes, of course.”
    â€œThis won’t take long.” Her boss, a petite woman with mocha-brown skin, had a no-nonsense demeanor and impeccable style. As she marched into the office, her wavy hair and leopard-print scarf flapped around her. Her colleagues gossiped that Mrs. Fontaine and her second husband, Jules, were having serious marital problems, but Sharleen didn’t believe them. Her boss looked chic and well put together, not like a woman having man trouble.
    â€œPlease have a seat.” Coming out from behind her desk, she gestured to the glass table beside the window. “Would you like something to drink?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I’m fine.”
    Mrs. Fontaine sat down on one of the wrought-iron chairs, and Sharleen did the same.
    â€œOver the years, you’ve become good friends with Ms. Calhoun, and I want to ensure her departure doesn’t cause you any unnecessary grief.”
    Confused, Sharleen furrowed her brow. “Her departure? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
    â€œI’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”
    â€œYou’re surprised she didn’t tell me what?” she repeated, wishing her boss would quit talking in circles and tell her what the hell was going on. Sharleen knew Jocelyn was worried about her mother’s health and wondered what had happened.
    â€œHas she taken a leave of absence?”
    â€œNo. Ms. Calhoun has been relieved of her