Jasmine stared at him over the antipasto platter with a dazzling, intense gaze. “I think you secretly love it,” she said in a low voice. “Eliciting an emotional reaction from the audience? It’s like the best drug there is. Soaps and telenovelas—we’re experts at it. Love. Hate. Passion. You live for the viewer reactions. You crave them.”
Lulled into a spell by her words and the silky tone of her voice, he lowered his own as well. They were getting into dangerous ground, and he didn’t care. “And what reaction do I elicit from you?”
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Nada.”
Heat bloomed in his belly and spread. “Ay, linda. Estás mintiendo.”
You’re lying.
Jasmine opened her mouth to reply—and was interrupted by a brusque knock on the door. A chorus of voices called out, “Jaaaaaasmine, we’re heeeeere!”
His eyes shot to hers. He yearned to know what she would’ve said, but the impulse was tempered by a growing sense of horror and betrayal.
She’d told someone.
Was it the press? Their coworkers?
Jasmine sucked in a breath. “It’s my cousins.”
Ay, Dios. Even worse.
Chapter 19
Jasmine opened the door to find Michelle and Ava standing in the hallway. Michelle held up a tote bag that clanked. “We come bearing wine.”
“And pizza!” Ava bustled past Jasmine into the kitchen, carrying a large cardboard box that brought heavenly smells into the suite.
Michelle glanced over at Ashton like she was just noticing him. “Oh, do you have company?”
She knew damn well Ashton was there, since Jasmine had texted them on the way home admitting she’d invited him over. They’d reminded her about her Leading Lady Plan and then gone silent. Jasmine should’ve guessed they were up to something, but she’d been preoccupied with ordering food and freshening up before Ashton arrived.
“What are you doing here?” Jasmine whispered while Ava introduced herself to Ashton.
Michelle gave her a pointed look. “Saving you from yourself.” Then she strolled over to Ashton and said, “Well, well, if it isn’t el león dorado.”
Jasmine completed the introductions, everyone kissed hello on the cheek, and soon they were all seated at the round dining table, digging into the pizza.
“Ooh, toppings!” Michelle grabbed olives and roasted red peppers from the antipasto plate and piled them onto her pizza slice. “So what were you two up to?”
Ashton passed around napkins. “Rehearsing lines.”
This was a slight exaggeration, considering they had yet to open their scripts, but it was better than admitting they’d been flirting over olives and telenovelas.
“Excellent,” Michelle said. “We’ll help you. Jasmine’s the pro, but Ava and I also took drama classes in school.”
“What do you do now?” Ashton asked politely.
“Freelance graphic designer.”
Michelle did so much more than that, but Jasmine didn’t contradict. Starting the freelance business had been Michelle’s way of recovering from her high-level—and extremely stressful—corporate job.
“And you?” Ashton asked, turning to Ava.
“Middle school teacher.” Ava yanked the cork out of the wine bottle. “But I’m on summer break now.”
“And how about you?” Michelle asked Ashton, as if she didn’t know. Jasmine rolled her eyes as Ava filled her wineglass.
Ashton replied with a rueful grin. “Well, I’ve been a gold miner, sheriff, CEO, duke, and now I’m a singer.”
Michelle nodded. “A man of many talents. Wine?”
Jasmine hid her smile in her glass. Michelle was like that. She could charm anyone with her particular blend of dark wit and smooth delivery. Jasmine knew what she was doing, though. Michelle was taking Ashton’s measure, gauging if he could hang.
And so far, Ashton—the same guy who hid from everyone else on the cast—was holding his own. He joked and bantered back and forth with Michelle, talked movies with Ava, and chowed down on pizza.
“Who’s in this scene?” Michelle asked, picking up Jasmine’s script.
“Carmen’s family,” Ashton replied.
Ava gestured at Jasmine. “You obviously have to play Carmen. I’ll read her mother’s lines.”
“I’ll be the dad,” Michelle said, then sent Ashton a sunny smile. “That leaves you as Carmen’s sister, Helen.”
Jasmine expected him to protest, or insist on reading Ernesto’s lines. Instead, Ashton leaned back in his chair, like he was lounging. He gave a little shoulder shake and a head toss, to mime throwing back a long mane of hair.
Jasmine let out a giggle. The posturing was a perfect imitation of the way Lily played Helen. And when Ashton spoke, it was with Helen’s attitude and Lily’s intonation.
“I’m ready,” he said with another head toss, and Jasmine laughed because Lily really did throw her hair around a lot.
“You are a good actor,” she teased.
He chuckled and sent her a wink. “Just don’t tell Lily. She’ll think I’m after her job.”
They drank wine and read parts of the script out loud, getting sillier as the night wore on. Finally, Ashton begged off—they had an early call time, and he always hit the gym first thing in the morning.
As he gathered the plates and loaded them in the dishwasher—something that had hearts forming in Ava’s eyes—Michelle elbowed Jasmine in the ribs.
“Ow! What?” Jasmine scowled and rubbed her side.
“Ask him,” Michelle hissed.
“I don’t want to ask him,” Jasmine shot back in a whisper.
“Abuela would love it if he came to her party,” Ava added in a low voice. “And it would totally put you over Jillian in the Ranking.”
Jasmine narrowed her eyes. “Low blow, Ava.”
The Ranking was a list they’d come up with in middle school, putting all the cousins in order from their grandmother’s most favorite to least favorite. It had been updated many times over the years as all the cousins grew up and became either more or less favorable in their abuela’s eyes. They hypothesized that Ava was always near the top—she spoke the most Spanish, helped Esperanza clean the house before parties, and went over a few evenings a week to help cook and watch telenovelas with her. Michelle, being “the mouthy one,” as she called herself, figured she was near the bottom. Jasmine was convinced that her older sister, Jillian, with her beautiful children and “regular job” on Wall Street, must be high up in the Ranking too. Higher than Jasmine was, anyway.
Bringing Ashton to the party would almost certainly skyrocket Jasmine to the top.
And it would make Esperanza really, really happy.
“Fine, I’ll ask him,” she grumbled. “Don’t interfere.”
Michelle gave her an innocent grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Jasmine caught up to Ashton as he was leaving the tiny kitchen.
“Hey, um, I have a question for you,” she said, then groaned inwardly. Real smooth.
His expressive eyebrows rose, inviting her to speak.
“My grandmother’s eightieth birthday party is coming up right after we wrap the season.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “The grandmother who adores me?”
Now Jasmine groaned out loud. “Yes, that one. Anyway, we’re having a huge party for her, and if you wanted to—I mean, it would just really make her day if—”
“Jasmine.” He said her name in a low voice that set off all kinds of pleasant vibrations in her body.
“Mm-hmm?” What else could she say when consumed with pure lust?
“Are you inviting me to your abuela’s birthday party?”
“Um . . . yeah. I am. Which sounds kind of dull, but I promise, it’ll be a lot of fun. The Rodriguez fam knows how to throw a party.”
He stared at her for what felt like a long time, his expression inscrutable. Just when she was sure he was about to say no, he spoke. “I don’t have my return flight booked yet, and it will depend on the needs of my own grandparents, but if I’m in New York, I’ll attend.”
She blinked. “Really?”
His lips curved in a small smile. “Yes, really.”
“Great. Thank you.”
Their eyes held, and Jasmine’s body grew warm all over. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and when he leaned in to drop a farewell kiss to her cheek, she inhaled sharply and fought a full body shiver. She had to find out what cologne he wore.
“Goodnight, Jasmine.”
The low rumble thudded through her. “Good night,” she echoed, voice hoarse with desire.
Then he raised his voice and called out, “Nice meeting you both.” Ava and Michelle yelled their goodbyes in harmony, something the three of them had done since they were kids, and then Ashton slipped out the door, leaving Jasmine trying to catch her breath.
Whew.
That was . . .
Whew. Later on, she was going to have to think about why she found his hellos and goodbyes so arousing.
Crisis averted, Michelle and Ava left shortly after Ashton did. Michelle’s parting words were, “You’re welcome,” paired with a meaningful glance. Ava had mouthed, “We’ll discuss later.” And then they were gone, too, leaving Jasmine alone with one single thought.