Read Online How to Sleep with a Movie Star by Kristin Harmel - Free Book Online Page A

had a small cluster of eight or so freckles across the bridge of his nose, which I’d never noticed on-screen, and there was a small, nearly imperceptible scar on the underside of his jaw. I remembered reading in the clips that it was from a football injury he’d suffered in high school.
    He was dressed simply in faded jeans (which looked like anything but designer) and a navy collared shirt that stretched perfectly over his well-defined contours.
    But what stood out most of all was how good he actually looked close-up. I’d been around the merry-go-round of the celebrity world long enough to grasp the fact that people didn’t always look as good in person as they did on-screen. Male movie stars always seemed to be shorter in person. Their hairlines always seemed to be receding (I’d even spotted cases of hairplugs up close in two of Hollywood’s most popular leading men). Their heads, oddly, tended to seem inordinately large for their bodies. And the faces that looked most perfect on the big screen tended to look so Botoxed in person that they appeared to be expressionless masks.
    But Cole was perfect.
Perfect.
His face looked like it had never had a blemish in its life, his frame was perfectly proportioned, and his eyes really did sparkle with the same intensity they seemed to have on-screen. I’d always assumed that his bright baby blues were a cinematic trick, but here they were, sparkling right at me. There were laugh lines around his eyes and on his forehead, which gave away his lack of Botox experience, and he smiled a smile that looked very real. He had just a bit of dark stubble on his chin, and his dark hair was blissfully hairplug-free.
    Up until this moment, I had always thought I was not so superficial as to be taken in by looks. But this was a new situation altogether. This was, without a doubt, the most attractive human being I’d ever laid eyes on. He was stunning.
    Of course, I took all this in through eyes lowered in embarrassment.
    “Oh my God,” I said, standing up and extending a hand, which I realized was shaking. I was suddenly having a little trouble breathing. “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t notice you there.” I was fiercely aware of my red cheeks. Then I noticed something as Cole finished shaking my hand and grabbed the chair next to mine. He didn’t look angry. Instead, he was grinning at me. And laughing. Was I missing something? He even appeared to be laughing
with
me instead of
at
me. But perhaps my laugh-detecting senses were off.
    He gestured for me to sit down, and even pushed my chair in before he took a seat.
    “Hey, I guess that’s an endorsement for the disguise then, right?” he said. As I stared at him, unsure of what to say, it suddenly occurred to me why people sometimes described eyes as “twinkling.” That’s what his blues were doing at the moment.
    “I’m . . . I mean . . . Um, wow, I am
so
embarrassed,” I stammered, finally allowing myself a nervous giggle. “How long have you been here?” Maybe he hadn’t been waiting that long after all. Maybe I was less of a jackass than I’d guessed.
    “Oh, an hour and a half, or so,” Cole said, still grinning.
    I reddened further. Yes, I was definitely a full-fledged jackass.
    “Oh no,” I moaned. “What an idiot I am. I mean, I know what you look like—obviously.” Okay, that sounded dumb. “And I still didn’t notice you.”
    Cole laughed again, and I stared in astonishment. He really wasn’t mad. I must have been missing something. I half expected his bodyguard to pounce out from behind a potted plant in the corner and kick me out. No celeb I’d ever met would laugh something like this off. But there was something different about Cole Brannon. And there were no bodyguards among the bushes.
    Really. I checked.
    “Actually,
I
noticed
you,
but I thought to myself, there’s no way that’s the girl I’m supposed to meet,” Cole said. “I mean, Ivana told me you were much older.”
    Huh? I’d never