Sparks Fly

life.
    Against her better judgment, Angelina said, “I can’t make the changes for him. It all depends on what he wants.”
    “So you’ll try again?”
    Angelina was dismayed by how easily she had been roped into taking Will on as a client. Again.
    “I’ll give it one more shot. But don’t expect a miracle.”

    * * *
    Will sat in his home office, staring intently at the computer screen, typing furiously.
    He couldn’t believe the new CFO had countered another one of his ideas. Will sent one final email and then leaned back in his chair to take a thirty-second break before he got on the phone to chew out his CFO for blatantly undermining his authority.
    He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. Lately, running PTI was one headache after another. Whether it was the shareholders, the board members, the employees, or the customers, the troubles seemed endless. Who knew, he found himself thinking, maybe this whole Feng Shui thing could really help. He had heard that Donald Trump used it, and look how well he was doing.
    Oh no! He had left the consultant in his front yard.
    Will rushed down the hallway to the front door, but she was long gone.
    When his ex-wife, Susan, had told him what she was giving him for his thirty-third birthday, his first and only question was “Fung what?” He’d told her he had no intention of meeting any consultant of any kind at 2:00 p.m. this Thursday, at his house.
    Unfortunately, Susan could talk anyone, including him, into a corner.
    Against his better judgment, he agreed to waste two precious hours of his workday with some mystical junk. But that was before the new executive staff at his company, Personal Technology Inc., had ambushed him with their radical plans, none of which he agreed with as CEO. After putting in several eighteen-hour work days to keep things from blowing up in his face, he was utterly exhausted and in no mood for anything that wasn’t marked Urgent!
    Still, even though he thought Angelina’s profession was ridiculous—he’d take science over fantasy any day—he owed her an apology. Not to mention the fact that Susan was probably just going to send over one Feng Shui consultant after another until he let one of them in to look through his house.
    He grabbed his cell phone and was surprisingly glad to hear the consultant pick up and say,

    “Angelina Morgan speaking.”
    “Angelina. It’s Will Scott.”
    Even across the phone lines he felt how much effort it cost her to push “Hello” past her lips.
    Susan always said he could charm the knickers off a nun. He had a feeling he was going to have to call on all his powers of persuasion to get back into Angelina’s good graces.
    “I want to say how sorry I am about abandoning you in my front yard.”
    Again, he heard the awful sound of silence across the line. Angelina was definitely angry with him.
    “I don’t know what to say other than work has been crazy and it’s got me doing things like leaving a beautiful woman standing all alone.”
    Too late, Will realized he had just admitted he thought she was beautiful. Even now he could remember the way the sunlight had played off her dark brown hair, the way it had lit up her pretty hazel eyes. And the fact that her mouth had looked so soft.
    So kissable.
    In a very brisk and professional voice she finally said, “Thanks for the apology. I appreciate it.”
    Will released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
    “Actually, I’m glad you called.”
    “You are?”
    “I just got off the phone with Susan. I have a policy not to work with people who aren’t interested in my services and I was going to give her money back for the consultation.”
    As disappointment moved through him, he realized he’d been lying to himself about his reasons for calling Angelina. Yes, Susan was like a dog with a bone. Yes, he owed Angelina an apology for leaving her standing on his front step while he took a phone call.
    But the truth was, he wanted to see her again.
    “I’m sorry that I gave you that impression, Angelina.”
    He thought he heard her sigh before saying, “Susan was adamant, however, about rescheduling our consultation.”
    “She was?”
    He sounded like a complete moron. The man who could convince investors to give him millions armed with nothing but a speech and PowerPoint presentation now appeared to have a vocabulary of about twelve words. Way to make up for a really bad first impression, pal.
    “I agreed to try again.