Virtuous(6)

I walk a fine line—how do I deny Cleo and her staff a few autographs and a couple of pictures without looking like a jerk? On the other hand, how do I indulge them without appearing self-centered to Natalie?

“Sorry about all that.” I tip my head toward the counter where Cleo leans, her rapt attention fixed on us.

“Probably happens all the time, huh?”

I shrug, not wanting to talk about myself. I’m sick of myself and far more interested in her. “So you’re a teacher?”

She seems surprised by the question. “That’s right. Third grade at the Emerson School, one of the top charter schools in the city.”

“Impressive.”

“Sure, it is,” she says with a laugh that makes my gut clench with desire. She is stunning. Fresh-faced and full of life and exuberance and passion.

“It’s very impressive. I give you so much credit. I’d go crazy spending seven hours a day with seven-year-olds.”

“My kids are eight, and it’s six hours a day.”

“I stand corrected,” and captivated, which I don’t share with her. She’s young, I think, as I take a sip of my coffee. Far too young and fresh for me, and yet… I’m captivated. “Are you from the city?”

She shakes her head. “Nebraska. I applied for a special program that brings first-year teachers to the city. They help us find housing and roommates and get settled in exchange for a two-year commitment to the program. They also help with our student loans.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“And loving every minute of it.”

Young and vanilla and from the heartland and so far removed from the kind of woman I normally pursue… I need to get out of here and get back to work before Hayden has me killed, but I can’t bring myself to move. Not while the young and stunning Natalie Bryant sits across from me, looking slightly shell-shocked to be sharing coffee with me. I hate that part of fame, too. Right now, I wish to be just a man having coffee with a gorgeous woman, but I’m always Flynn Godfrey, Movie Star. It’s as if the words “movie star” are part of my name, like Junior or Senior or Roman numerals.

She regards me with a glint of humor in her eyes that I find wildly attractive. “I’d ask you what you do, but I already know. Movie star. I’d ask where you’re from, but I know that, too. Beverly Hills. I’d ask how old you are, but I know you’re thirty-two—”

“Thirty-three,” I say, amused by her recitation. “I’m surprised you don’t know about the Christmas birthday.”

“I know that superstar actor Max Godfrey married superstar singer Estelle Flynn, and when their son was born on Christmas Day, Flynn Godfrey was anointed Hollywood royalty. I could ask if you have siblings, but I know there’re three sisters, all of them older. So what else should we talk about?” As she poses the question, she props her chin on her upturned hand and gives me a cheeky little smile that slays me.

I’m slain. I’m enchanted. And I’m late. “We could talk about dinner,” I say before I give myself even two seconds to think about what I’m doing. I can’t let her get away without knowing I’ll see her again. I need to see her again.

“Dinner.”

“Are you familiar with the third—and often final—meal of the day?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never had it with the biggest movie star in the world.”

I grimace, because at this moment, I hate that I’m the biggest movie star in the world, especially if it’s going to cost me the chance to spend more time with this incredible woman. “Is that a major turnoff?”

“Not a turnoff, per se, but you have to admit that for a school teacher from Nebraska spending her first year in New York City, this has been a rather surreal morning.”

“I can see how it would be from your perspective, but from mine, it’s been a rather refreshing kind of morning. I was hoping it could also be a refreshing sort of evening, too.”

“I won’t sleep with you.”

I’m stunned speechless, which almost never happens. I can’t recall the last time someone has surprised me so profoundly.

Her face flushes with color that only adds to her beauty. I want to feel the heat of her cheeks under my lips, and my cock stirs to life as that thought makes it to my addled brain.

“I’m sorry. That was rude. You weren’t asking me to go to bed with you.”