Page 45 of #Moonstruck

“Is it bad that I’m hoping you don’t have any visible bruises? Because nobody is going to believe this is how you got them. Not exactly a good way to start our pretend relationship.”

Was he serious with this? “Yes, let’s make my humiliating injury all about you and your PR. Now shut up and go away before I give you some visible bruises.”

That seemed to do the trick. He moved a few feet away from me and faced the mirror behind us. I turned my head to see him stretching. He was spending a long time doing it. “You can stop. You’re the fairest of them all.”

He grinned. “You must be okay, given the amount of snark you’re currently throwing my way.” He selected a treadmill two places over from where I’d been running. He warmed up, running slowly, and then pushed some buttons to increase the intensity. I wiggled my toes, making sure I hadn’t broken my neck. While I tested each part of me for functionality, I realized Ryan had, to my great delight, removed his shirt.

He had a truly beautiful chest and back. I was fascinated by the way his muscles moved as he ran, expanding and contracting to the beat of his stride. He was so strong. Masculine.

Then I noticed something on the left side of his chest. I realized it was three tiny music notes. I looked in the mirror where his right side was reflected and saw what looked like a small triangle pointing up on his torso. On his left bicep was a single black stripe.

I’d never been a big fan of tattoos. But after seeing them on some of my favorite TV crushes, I had changed my mind a little. Given their location, you’d know Ryan had them only if he had his shirt off. It gave me a secret thrill that I was the one getting to see them.

Even if I’d nearly sustained a concussion to do it.

The fact that my brain was going in that direction was a clear indication that I needed to leave this room.

I was feeling better, so I got up slowly.

“Hey,” Ryan called out. He turned off his machine and came over. Gah. His chest was even better up close. I really wanted to do some personal exploration of those bumps and ridges. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

“Yep.” One-syllable word. That was what I could manage when faced with his glistening abs. Fantastic.

“I could walk you to your room.”

“No. Thanks.” I had to curl my fingers into a ball to prevent myself from touching him. My heart still beat too fast, but I attributed that to my mishap and not to my current visual stimuli.

“I didn’t get the chance to ask you last night, but our call time for the bus isn’t until eleven o’clock tonight. What would you think about going out on our first official fake date later on? I can come by your room at six.”

“’kay.”

“Great! I’ll see you then.”

Dazed, I nodded and turned to leave. I heard his treadmill start up as I headed for the door. I’d almost made it when I heard his voice.

“Hey, Maisy? For our date tonight, what do you prefer—shirt off or shirt on? Because it seems like you enjoy it off.” The jerk didn’t even sound winded as he ran, all smug and arrogant.

That I’d been ogling him hard enough to earn an award for it was completely beside the point.

The sound of his laughter followed me all the way into the hallway.

If he had not distracted me with his bare chest, I could have said no to tonight. Made up some excuse, like I was going to hang out with my brothers. I would have been just fine if Magic Mike had kept his shirt on. I would have stayed strong and remembered all the wise choices I’d made very early this morning.

Instead, I was all,Oh, Ryan, yes, let’s go out tonight, and please make me forget all my rules and plans. Tee-hee.

So much for the hope that physical activity would somehow lessen Ryan’s attractiveness.

As I turned on my shower and started to undress, I realized there probably wasn’t enough gym equipment in the entire world to make me forget how gorgeous Ryan De Luna was.

I wasn’t sure what to wear for our date and ended up calling Ashley’s room. After consulting with the other dancers, they decided on a little black cocktail dress that Britt brought down for me after I told them my size. Part of me wanted to be subversive and wear a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. But it was Ryan. If this was our first official pretend date, it would probably be somewhere swanky. I put on makeup as if I were about to go onstage and piled my long hair into a messy, but hopefully elegant, bun.

I packed all my belongings and dropped my suitcases in Parker’s room. He promised to have everything brought down to our bus. He didn’t seem particularly happy with my outfit choice, but I figured that meant I looked good.

When Ryan knocked on my door, I gulped down my nervousness and took in a deep breath. When I opened it, I was very glad I’d made the effort. He wore a black suit that had been tailored just for him. His hair was perfectly mussed, like he’d just rolled out of bed, and that combination of sophisticated and down-to-earth was more than my senses could process.

“You look ...” His gaze traveled up and down my body almost like a physical touch. “Wow.”

I would not blush. I would not. “Thanks.”

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