I was a few minutes early getting back to the restaurant, but as I made my way onto the patio, a woman who was obviously not my client was occupying my table. I guess I couldn't have expected Fernando to just leave his station empty for two entire hours, but this woman didn't look like she was ready to wrap up anytime soon.

She was preoccupied with perusing the menu, allowing me an extra minute to peruse her. It didn't take more than a glance to assess that she was gorgeous, and I allowed myself to appreciate the view. Blonde hair pulled back in an artless ponytail, the entire mass shining in the midday sun, model-high cheekbones above a full, luscious mouth, a bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she scanned the specials.

It was almost intimidating.

Now. I know I just got through telling you that I held no stock in a pretty face. And for the most part, I meant it. But that was then and this is now and the fact of the matter is that I happened to be a red-blooded American male. I couldn't not notice a beautiful woman. The difference between me and most of my gender, however, was that looks alone didn't sell me. I needed more than that.

I was curious to see if a killer personality went along with the killer looks, and figured there was no better time than the present to find out. I normally found that a pairing like that was a rarity, but what the hell. It was worth the shot. I had a few minutes to kill before one, so why not spend my wait with a little company? Realizing I had the perfect opening, I figured I could use the seating mixup to my advantage. I formulated an effective line as I closed the few paces that separated us, confident that I could win her over with my witty repartee.

But then she looked up.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I was met with the most incredible blue eyes I'd ever seen in my life. They were peeking through a fringe of heavy lashes, putting the sky to shame and tripping me up something fierce.

The look on her face was apprehensive, though, and seeing that slip in her armor caused the most terrifying thought to seep into my brain: Wait. Is this my one o'clock?

No. Wasn't possible. There was simply no way.

Please don't let this be my new client. Please don't let this–

"Lucas Taggart?" she asked. Her voice was a soft melody wrapped in an alluring timidity that reverberated all the way down my spine.

Not good.

"Yes," I replied through sandpaper before clearing my throat. "You must be Ainsley Carrington."

I was sure that the second misunderstanding of my day was about to take place. The girl I was looking at could hardly be considered an ugly duckling. She didn't need an image consultant; her image was already perfectly fine just the way it was. Fresh. Natural. Beautiful.

She rose from her chair to shake my hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Lucas."

Her yellow sundress hugged a trim figure, subtle curves in all the right places. Her perfume assaulted me, and I inhaled the sweet citrus scent against my will.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Nice to meet you, too, Miss Carrington. But please don't call me Lucas."

Her face immediately flushed as her eyes found her shoes. "Oh, I'm sorry! Should I have called you Mr. Taggart? I didn't mean to—"

"No, of course not," I offered, dipping my head to bring her eyes back to mine. What I saw there tipped me off to the reason she was here. As physically beautiful as she was, the poor girl was a nervous rabbit. I should have known better than to start out with a criticism, for godsakes. Why did I have to fluster her right off the bat? "I just meant that nobody calls me 'Lucas.' If we're going to be on a first name basis, you can call me Luke."

She smiled politely as she removed her hand from my grasp. I hadn't even realized I was still holding onto it. "I'd like that. Thank you."

The first sight of her smile made my heart lurch in my chest before I was able to collect myself and shake out of the schoolboy stupor.

Jesus. There was no way I could take this job. How could I? My entire career was based on instilling confidence, and yet I felt mine had disappeared within two minutes of meeting this woman. She was... stunning. I didn't think I'd be able to stop staring at her long enough to do my job properly.

I was thinking of the most delicate way to foist her off on another consultant friend, someone who'd be able to maintain his professionalism for godsakes, when I found myself offering, "Why don't we have a seat? I'll order us a couple drinks and we can get down to it."

Ainsley smoothed her skirt behind her knees and sat down, saying, "I was so nervous about meeting with you today. Thank you so much for agreeing to see me." I watched her tuck a stray lock of that blonde hair behind her ear, her fingers shaking as she stared down at her place setting. I didn't know what had happened to turn this beautiful girl into such an insecure wallflower, but I did know that I was intrigued. There was some serious untapped potential sitting across that table.

Within seconds, I was suddenly reversing my earlier decision. Regardless of my personal doubts, I decided passing this particular client along to someone else was not a viable option. Ainsley didn't need someone. She needed me. She needed a confidence boost from a guy who was experienced enough to give it to her and I was the best con man there was, so to speak. I wouldn't be doing her any favors by turning her away. Fact was, I could help her. I knew her story from my own past experience. How hard it must have been for her to take that first step and seek out my services. Harder still for her to actually send me that initial email. Practically a miracle that she followed through with our meeting today.

I can do this. Ainsley Carrington was no different than any other client. The thought strengthened my resolve.

I waved a waiter over and ordered a bottle of Pellegrino. "Is that alright with you, Ainsley?"

She placed a napkin across her lap as she answered, "That sounds perfect, thank you." As the waiter left us, Ainsley's blank gaze met mine in expectation. "So, should I... Do you need to know why I'm here?"

"I already know why you're here."

It always helped me to better understand my potential clients if I was granted a minute to assess their situation, and I was pretty sure I already had Ainsley Carrington figured out. Being an introvert allowed for a lifetime of observing people, and I'd learned how to pick up on their signals. Most of the time, they weren't even aware they were giving them off. People are easy to read if you take the time to pay attention.

"Is it that obvious?" she lamented, organizing the silverware at her place setting.

I shrugged in an attempt to ease her mind. "So, you're shy. Big deal. The only 'obvious' thing to me is that you're finally doing something about it."

Ainsley shook her head and sighed. "Gosh, I must be even more of a dud than I thought. I grew up so sheltered, and now here I am, twenty-five years old, and I have no life!"

"I'll help you change that."

"I'm really insecure."

"But what do you have to be insecure about? You're hot."

I wasn't big on blowing smoke up people's asses, but part of my program was to offer constant assurance. I always discovered at least one positive attribute that I could reinforce repeatedly, getting them used to the idea of believing it about themselves. It normally took me a little while to come up with an honest compliment, however, because I wasn't in the habit of lying to my clients. But I hadn't put any forethought into that "hot" comment; it just sort of slipped out.

And it was one hell of an understatement.

But Ainsley avoided the commentary about her looks, and instead, a smile eked through as she tried to answer casually, "Luke, it's okay. I know I'm not... you know... fun."

What does fun have to do with being hot?

I eased back into my chair, absently tapping a fingertip against the linen tablecloth as I took in her words. I knew all too well what it felt like to be socially inhibited. "Well, I can definitely help you there. But Ainsley," I added cautiously, "I feel it's only right to be honest with you. My course encompasses a lot more than learning how to be the life of the party. We've got some hard work ahead of us, but I'm already thinking you're gonna be tough enough to handle it." As skittish as she seemed, I had already picked up an underlying resolve. Determination went a long way, and hers would serve her well.

She extended a genuine smile at me, and I felt my heart lurch. She had a gorgeous smile; lovely, full lips and delicate, straight teeth that would not be needing a bleaching. I mentally crossed the customary Laser-White visit off my Week Four checklist, and attempted to get this meeting back on track.

This was the part where I'd normally launch into my schpiel, but I didn't want to overwhelm her more than I already had. Sure, all my clients were lacking confidence, but this one was downright petrified. I felt that one wrong move would send her scurrying for the hills.

"So," I said, attempting to ease into some talking points. "Maybe we should start with a Q and A? That's always an easy way to break the ice."

Ainsley rearranged the napkin across her lap and directed her next words toward it. "Well, good, because I'm not really sure how this works. I know you change women's lives, but I guess I'm still unclear as to how."

"Well," I started in. "It's more like I help women change their own lives." When she seemed receptive to hearing more, I gave her the standard rundown, explained the role I'd be playing through it. Told her about the schedule we'd be keeping, the exercises I had planned, the homework she'd be expected to do. Mind you, I barely scratched the surface, but I was trying to keep from overwhelming her while still answering her question.

It was hard not to notice the charming way she listened intently while simultaneously avoiding any sort of prolonged eye contact. It was kind of adorable.

I was pretty distracted by Ainsley's fidgeting—and, you know, by her hotness—but I managed to get through my presentation without embarrassing myself.

Shocker.

I wrapped up the diatribe with my standard footnote. "I'll be asking a lot of you over these next weeks. Some things will seem entirely effortless, while others will be well out of your comfort range. I only ask that you trust me. In return, I will grant you complete and utter honesty. If there's ever any question about what we're doing or why, I'd like you to ask me straight out. I'll always tell you the truth. This program works best when that honesty is a two-way street, however, so I'm hoping I can expect the same from you."

Ainsley nodded her head in acceptance just as the waiter delivered our drinks. The interruption was a good enough excuse to cease my monologue and propose a toast. "To new beginnings," I offered, holding my stem glass out to Ainsley. "And happily ever afters."

She seemed to like the idea of that, smiling as she clinked her glass to mine. "You make it sound like life is a fairytale."

I shot her my most effective smirk, looking right into those incredible blue eyes of hers as I answered, "It's high time you started living like it was."

***Poor Luke. The guy is already a hot mess over this girl. LOL