always clean-shaven in the movies and interviews Emily had seen, which admittedly, hadn’t been many. His dark hair was so perfectly mussed that Emily knew some guys would pay to have it professionally styled that way, although she was almost certain all he’d done was run a brush or maybe just his hands through it when he’d gotten up this morning. He was casually sexy without even trying. And then there was something else about him Emily couldn’t quite put into words. It was like a force field or some sort of invisible sparkle surrounded him, which would probably have made him appealing even if he hadn’t showered or shaved in a week and had shown up to class wearing his rattiest T-shirt. Charisma. Wasn’t that what they called it? The guy had it in spades.
If only he wasn’t famous. And not even just famous, but Raine-Kingston-famous. Emily wouldn’t have been surprised if paparazzi were strategically staked out somewhere in their yoga class, which was exactly why she shouldn’t be sitting beside him.
Except he’d sat beside her, not the other way around, and there was really no good way to change this now that they were both sitting there and he was talking to her.
“Good morning,” she echoed. “How are you?”
“Pretty rested for a man who supposedly spent the night in a no-holds-barred threesome with a film extra and a Playmate.” She caught the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
She chuckled. “And you still made it to class. That’s dedication.”
“Never let it be said that I can’t go all night and all morning.”
“My guess is something closer to a good night’s sleep followed by a cup of coffee?”
“You know how it goes. And close—it was two cups.”
He raked a hand through his hair, knocking a few strands more askew than they’d already been. Emily wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he’d just made himself look even more attractive. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she had a moment of self-consciousness. She’d thrown on the first long tank top she had pulled out of her drawer this morning, along with a pair of black leggings, and had wound her crazy mass of waves up into a messy topknot. That was it, pretty much. She definitely hadn’t gone all-out to look her yoga-best like some of the girls in their class clearly had, with form-fitting crop tops that showed off swimsuit-model-perfect abs and makeup that was flawless.
It doesn’t matter. You’re not here to impress anyone or to fawn all over Raine. She turned her attention back to their conversation.
“Please tell me it wasn’t Wally Hood who ran that underwhelming work of fiction,” she said.
“Underwhelming fiction? Are you saying it’s not plausible I’d have a threesome?”
“I wouldn’t dare to hazard a guess there,” she told him. “Starting my day by picturing you leading a threesome is pretty much the opposite reason of why I come to class.” She removed the cap from her water bottle and took a drink.
“What if you were part of the threesome?”
Don’t choke. She somehow managed to finish swallowing her mouthful of water.
“I’d much rather have my guy all to myself,” she replied, before realizing saying it that way could imply she thought of him as her guy. He was talking about a threesome that involved him, after all. She opened her mouth to correct herself, intending to say she wasn’t the kind of girl who’d be into a threesome, but he spoke before she could.
“So you’d be into a twosome, then?”
She eyed him with suspicion. “That would depend on who else makes up this twosome.”
“Me.”
“Am I being propositioned, Mr. Kingston?”
“I think you want to be.”
Hold his gaze. But she couldn’t do it. Her face felt very hot all of a sudden.
“You think quite highly of yourself.”
“Myself—and you. So do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Want to be propositioned by me?”
She couldn’t tell by the tone of his voice if he was teasing, and her cheeks still felt too warm to risk glancing over at him to see his expression.
“I can’t really say,” she answered.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I haven’t thought about it.”
That was a lie. She was having problems getting an image of him without that purple shirt on out of her mind. She was sure he’d somehow planted it there. He had to have some sort of special power of mind-manipulation. Maybe it was something all big movie stars learned how to do.
“So think about it,” he said. “We have some time before class starts. I want to know