You Had Me at Hola(7)

Chapter 3


The combination of ice-cold coffee, unexpected Spanish, and the full force of Ashton’s famously handsome face stole Jasmine’s voice. Her silk shirt clung to her chilled skin, thanks to the faulty lid that had leaped off her cold brew the second Ashton had backed into her.

Ashton. She drank him in as if he were a steaming cappuccino on a cold day, her body warming from the inside despite the inadvertent ice bath. Dark curly hair, the shadow of a beard, tan skin, and sexy dark brown eyes. He seemed even taller in person, and more magnetic, like a behemoth of a planet tugging her into his orbit.

She felt drawn to him in a way that made no sense, but that was the magic of TV—it made you feel close to people you’d never met, through familiarity and carefully crafted characters designed to make you root for them, fall in love with them, or love to hate them.

And here he was, in the flesh, and somehow even hotter in person. The Golden Lion. She’d watched some episodes at Michelle’s urging, and Ashton’s command of the viewer’s attention was masterful.

In an effort to ignore the way her heart pounded at his nearness, she focused on what he’d said.

Since she didn’t want to admit just yet that she wasn’t fluent in Spanish, Jasmine picked over the words, replaying them in her mind and translating each one.

Hola. Those first deep, fluid syllables of his greeting had sent a thrill through her.

Supongo que no te ibas a beber eso.

I guess you weren’t going to drink that.

Wait, was he being sarcastic? Or serious? Shit, she couldn’t tell.

Jasmine narrowed her eyes at him just in case. “Was that meant to be a joke?”

His eyebrows twitched, like maybe he was surprised she’d answered in English. She was used to that.

“Uh . . . yes. A joke. But not a funny joke, I see.” In English, his deep voice was accented and smooth. He grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the table and thrust them at her. “I’m Ashton Suarez.”

“I know who you are. My grandmother absolutely adores you.” God, had she really just said that? Jasmine patted her torso with the napkins, which did little to sop up the dark coffee soaking her shirt. Even worse, although it was hard to tell from her vantage point, she was pretty sure the white silk had become see-through. She tried to pull on the wet fabric so it didn’t cling to her like a second skin, but it just slapped back onto her boobs. Awesome.

“I’ll take care of the dry cleaning.” His expression was contrite, and the worry in his eyes made him look younger, more boyish.

“Don’t bother. They’re probably ruined.” It came out bitchier than she meant it to, so she added, “Anyway, they’re just clothes.”

Just clothes she’d spent two hours selecting, with her cousins’ help. She bit back a sigh. She didn’t want to make him feel bad, but fuck, this was inconvenient.

“I’m sorry for stepping on you,” Ashton said in a rush, as if belatedly realizing he hadn’t yet apologized. “And bumping into you. And spilling your coffee.”

She shrugged and sent him a rueful smile. “It was an accident. But I could have used the caffeine.”

He held up his own cup. “Do you want mine?”

Had he drunk from it yet? Didn’t matter. She’d soon be locking lips with this guy. And it would be rude to turn down his olive branch.

“Sure, thanks.” Their fingers brushed and she sucked in a trembling breath. To cover the blush rising in her cheeks, she quickly brought the cup to her lips. Took a sip. And gagged.

“Jeez, how much sugar did you put in there?”

He grimaced. “A lot?”

Jasmine shoved the cup back at him. “Thanks but I think I’ve had enough coffee for today.” She gestured at her shirt and his eyes followed her movement. Damn it, she’d drawn his attention back to the now-sheer blouse clinging to her breasts. Just brilliant.

With what seemed like great effort, Ashton dragged his gaze away from her chest and back to her eyes. His expression was bland, but she caught the ripple of his throat as he swallowed.

Her skin grew hot with embarrassment and, damn it, attraction. This was so not how she’d imagined their first meeting unfolding. She had to get out of here.

Jasmine waved a hand toward the green-room door. “I’m, ah . . . I’m going to go change.”

Into what, she had no idea.

He nodded. “Claro.”

“Um, bye.” Jasmine hurried out and hobbled to the bathroom.

A glance at her phone showed she had less than ten minutes before the table read began, and she was drenched in super strong coffee and coconut milk. Not wanting to be late on the first day, Jasmine flagged down an office assistant. The woman had shoulder-length blond hair and a nervous tilt to her eyebrows.

“Hi. I’m Jasmine Lin. What’s your name?”

“Penny.” Penny’s rosy skin paled as she took a horrified look at Jasmine’s coffee-splattered attire.

“As you can see, I’m having a wardrobe emergency.” Jasmine shoved all the cash in her wallet—a whopping thirty-four bucks—into Penny’s hand. “Can you please run down to the nearest store and buy me a change of clothes? I seem to be in need of a new outfit.”

Penny’s light eyebrows drew together. “What kind of outfit?”