“Wow,” Angelina Morgan said aloud as she got out of her car in front of the enormous mansion. “That is one seriously huge house.” She’d seen pictures of places like this in magazines, but had never actually been inside one.

She’d set aside two hours for this feng shui consultation.

She’d need two weeks.

Feeling much as she imagined Maria must have felt in The Sound of Music when she saw the captain’s house for the first time—I need to have confidence, she thought—Angelina took a deep breath and headed up the long front path.

She rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. She rang it again.

Finally, she heard footsteps approaching and the door opened. Angelina was about to introduce herself…but the words died on her lips.

The man standing before her was, in a word, perfect. Dirty-blond hair contrasted with blue eyes. Tanned skin highlighted bold cheekbones, a strong nose and gorgeous lips.

“Are you Angelina Morgan?”

Stunned by her unprofessional thoughts about her client, she barely managed a yes. She hadn’t had a sexual thought about a man in months and was alarmed that her dead libido should perk up at such an inappropriate time.

She was even more alarmed when her client said, “Will Scott,” then shook her hand, causing a frisson of heat to surge through her.

Quickly pulling her hand back, she fumbled for one of her business cards and said, “I’m so sorry about being a few minutes late. I’ve rarely been to this neighborhood and I’m afraid I got a little lost. In any case, given that your house is larger than I anticipated, I want you to know that I’m happy to stay and work with you for as long as it takes.”

“Actually, I’ve got some pressing work to take care of, so the quicker we can get this done, the better.”

Angelina knew she should be accommodating. Not only was she late, but judging by the size of his mansion, he was probably counting every minute in her company as millions of dollars lost.

Intending to start again with a clean slate, she conjured up her most genuine smile. “First of all, Mr. Scott—”

“Call me Will.”

Angelina gave a slight nod of her head in acquiescence. “Okay, Will, I’d like to find out how much you know about feng shui, particularly since this consultation was given to you as a gift from a friend.”

“Not a friend exactly.” He paused slightly. “Susan is my ex-wife.”

Angelina barely stopped herself from exclaiming, Oh, really! Clearing her throat, she said, “As I was saying, due to the fact that this feng shui consultation was given to you as a gift from your, uh, ex-wife…” She stopped to clear her throat again. “It’s important for me to know how much I’ll need to explain.”

“Frankly, the only thing I’m worried about is the neighbors finding out I’m dabbling in magic and witchcraft.” Stepping past her, he looked out at the street. “You don’t have any signs on your car, do you?”

Silently reminding herself that she had always been able to convert staunch disbelievers into the ancient art’s greatest proponents, she said, “Why don’t we discuss the ideas behind feng shui for a few minutes before we jump into the consultation? That way you will understand why it has absolutely nothing to do with magic or witches.”

“Just as long as we’re done before my meeting.”

Angelina felt a tension headache coming on. “Did Susan make it clear that we need at least two hours for the consultation?”

“Two hours? I don’t have two hours.” Will’s cell phone rang and he lifted it up to look at the screen. “I need to take this call.”

As he moved away from the door, a sudden breeze slammed it shut in her face, leaving Angelina standing alone on his front step.

Utterly shocked by how things were going, for the first time in her life Angelina actually wished she did know some witchcraft.

If this man thought she was going to wait around for him to get his act together, he was sorely mistaken. His ex-wife, Susan, must have been a very calm, forgiving person to have been married to him at all. Susan could have her money back. First thing Angelina was going to take care of when she got back to her office was getting rid of Mr. Scott as a client, once and for all.

And good riddance.

Excerpt from Sparks Fly, copyright 2013, Lucy Kevin