Still So Hot!

She’d confessed her ambitions to Julie, who’d been incredibly supportive. “Not more, bigger. Celebrities. Because if you do that, the idea of hiring a dating coach enters the popular consciousness. And if you’re the dating coach that all the big names have, you’re the person everyone wants. They know, if you’re good enough for Mila Kunis, you’re good enough for them.”

“But how do you get into that market? You have to have a celebrity to get the celebrities, right?”

Julie had puzzled over that for a minute, then said, “I know someone who knows Celine Carr’s publicist.”

And two days later, Haven had returned her call.

“Celine’s not easy,” Haven had said. “And she’s made more of a mess of dating than just about any other aspect of her life.”

Elisa doubted that, because she knew Celine’s brief stint in rehab had been followed not a year later by a term in an eating disorder clinic, or so the tabloids and entertainment magazines had said. But maybe that wasn’t true. Look at how news was born—by crazed, aggressive paparazzi. It was a wonder anything factual ever got printed.

“We’ve got image consultants, we have all that stuff going on,” Haven said. “You can focus completely on the dating stuff. I’ve heard great things about you. But I’d like to meet you before I make a decision.”

Haven had arranged a meeting, and Elisa and Celine had immediately hit it off. Or at least Elisa had been charmed by Celine, and Haven had told Elisa, “You’re amazing with her. She listens to you. If anyone can get her to shape up, you’re my gal.”

Since then, Elisa and Celine had met almost weekly, working on Celine’s self-image, talking about what the star wanted from a relationship and discussing strategies for a healthy approach to dating.

Which was why it was a bit of a mystery to Elisa why Celine was still picking up strange men in drugstores. Elisa would have to address that one with Celine later tonight.

Elisa had aimed for nonchalance when she’d told Brett about her phone conversation with Haven this afternoon, but it had been a little tenser than Elisa had let on. Haven had been pretty riled up when she’d heard about the paparazzo on the plane. She’d been torn between staying with her mom in the hospital and flying to St. Barts to check out the situation for herself. Elisa had reassured Haven a million times that the situation was under control, but Haven kept saying, “You don’t know Celine.” Finally Haven had said she’d take a look at what, if any, photos or other material had made it online and would decide based on that whether she thought Elisa needed reinforcements.

Elisa would have to make sure that everything else went smoothly from this point on. When Brett and Celine were done, Celine’s evening with Elisa would start. If Elisa and Celine wanted to make the most of the setting, and generate useful promo footage, they probably wouldn’t go to bed ’til 2:00 a.m. or later.

What an exhausting thought. Julie had been right when she’d said Elisa had a long evening ahead of her.

She let her eyes fall closed. She’d have a cat nap. Just enough to take the edge off.

But she was restless, and she knew why. Brett. He’d had on a T-shirt at the pool, but it had cleaved to his shoulders and chest. And under his board shorts, his hips had been narrow, his legs gorgeously muscled.

Thou shalt not covet thy client’s date.

Oh, but she did. She coveted. When he’d stood over her on the plane, at the pool, she’d been reminded of his size and strength. Of the way he’d overwhelmed her that night on her couch. Stolen her breath out of her body.

You can’t have him. Even if he weren’t Celine’s date, even if this wasn’t a gigantic mess, you can’t have him. He doesn’t want to be had.

Her libido didn’t care. It just remembered the rush of pleasure she’d felt when Brett had kissed her. The surge of liquid heat, the slickness between her legs, the way the craving expressed itself in her fingers and toes and eyelashes and freckles.