Page 19 of That Prince is Mine
“Okay.” Sarah didn’t seem to mind, as she settled back in her seat and resumed stealing glances at Jeannie.
When the lecture ended, Emma found herself clapping as enthusiastically as everyone else. Her blood pounded in her ears, and her chest rose and fell faster than sitting at a lecture warranted. It wasn’t only due to her newfound enthusiasm for global harmony. It seemed Emma had a thing for gorgeous, brilliant men with sweet, buttery accents—like 80 percent of the audience.
Even as Michel’s lecture had riveted her intellect, her body had hummed with awareness. She found his warm, playful side charming, but she couldn’t get enough of this competent side to him. There was something innately sexy about a man who knew what he was doing. He commanded her attention with a natural grace and confidence that she couldn’t resist. Lust wasn’t an emotion Emma was overly familiar with, but something deep inside her craved this man.
“Shoot. I’m going to be late for my next class,” Sarah said, gathering her backpack off the floor. “Will you be okay finding your way back to your car?”
“I’ll be fine.” Emma stood to give her friend a quick hug. “Bring extra containers to your next lesson. We’re going to make a smorgasbord of jeon.”
“Mmm. Pan-fried goodness.” Sarah stole one last lingering glance at Jeannie. “I’ll see you next week.”
By the time Emma turned to face the stage again, she couldn’t find Michel. In a panic, she spun around in a circle. The auditorium was emptying out quickly. Did he already leave? Frustrated tears prickled behind her eyes until she caught a glimpse of deep golden hair at the bottom of the stage. He hadn’t left. He’d just been swarmed by a group of students.
Relief and bemusement coursed through her. He was like a celebrity surrounded by eager fans. She wasn’t entirely sure if she could shove her way past the students to reach him. With a huff of frustration, she sat back down in her seat and trained her eyes on him, determined not to lose sight of him again.
He listened attentively to each student, his head bent forward and his brows slightly drawn, then answered their questions thoughtfully. Once in a while, his face would split into a proud smile at a bright pupil, and it was enough to get Emma’s pulse fluttering. She couldn’t help but wish she was the recipient of that smile. Suddenly, she could hardly wait to speak to him again, but nearly half an hour passed before he raised his hand and made placating noises as he maneuvered past his admirers.
“My brilliant TA, Jeannie McMahon, can answer the rest of your questions.” Michel nodded apologetically at the redhead who stood a few paces away from the crowd.
“All right, people. Enough with the mosh pit,” Jeannie called out, clapping her hands smartly to draw the students’ attention. “And for those of you who look poised to chase after the professor, remember that I’ll be the one making your grade recommendations at the end of the term.”
With his head down, Michel took long, quick strides toward the nearest exit. Even after an hour-long lecture and being mobbed by eager students, he didn’t have a single hair out of place. Slightly queasy with nerves and anticipation, Emma hurried down the aisle to catch him before he disappeared. Blowing out a calming breath, she fell into step at his side just in time to walk out into the hallway with him.
“It’s Yoon, by the way,” Emma said as casually as she could manage with her heart bouncing off the walls of her chest cavity.
“Emma.” Michel halted so abruptly that she had to retrace a couple of steps to join him again.
“Yes.” She held up her index finger. “Emma Yoon.”
“How… What are you doing here?” His eyes roamed her face as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was standing in front of him.
She smoothed a self-conscious hand down her hair. She wasn’t dressed to impress like for her matseons, but she looked far from shabby in her rose-gold peasant blouse and formfitting jeans. Her makeup was light but flawless, and her strappy gold stilettos were to die for. She had no reason to feel self-conscious. She cleared her throat and brought her hand down to her side.
“Wrong question,” she said, arching her eyebrow. “You, Michel Chevalier, should be asking me for my number.”
His dumbfounded expression faded away as a broad grin overtook his face. “Ms. Emma Yoon, may I please have your number?”
“Your cell.” She held out her hand, palm up. His head cocked to the side. “I need your cell phone to give you my number.”
“Ah.” He promptly reached inside his suit jacket and withdrew his phone. “Here you go.”
She took it from him, their fingers brushing in the exchange. She questioned the wisdom of her three-inch heels when her knees went weak at the contact. Resolutely, she typed in her number and pressed Dial. When she heard her cell ring in her purse, she hung up the call.
“There.” She handed him his phone, careful not to let their fingers touch, since she had to be able to walk back to her car.
“Thank you,” he said in a low voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “Should we—”
“Call me,” she cut him off, then swept past him, flipping her hair.
Her visceral reaction to watching his lecture had thrown her off her balance. Meeting him in the hotel café had already proven inconvenient, and she had no intention of losing control of the whole situation. She hoped this dramatic exit put them back on an equal footing while she figured some things out.
She couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. Michel stood where she left him, staring after her with unmistakable yearning. She faced forward again with a happy smile tugging at her lips. Equal footing accomplished.
CHAPTER TEN
“How did she know to find you here?” Sophie materialized at his side while he watched the hypnotizing sway of Emma’s truly fantastic backside as she walked farther and farther away from him.
“I don’t know,” he murmured distractedly. Then, with a thrum of excitement, he raised the mobile he still held in his hand. “I can call and ask her.”
