A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (13 page)

"Bloody hell," Lachlan murmured.

Rita's voice was a trifle dry – but no longer irritated. "Maybe not quite so long a kiss next time, eh Maxim? Moving on.
Puck!
"
 

Nicola's heart was thumping inside her ribcage. She could feel the pulse in her throat, in her ears. "Crap."

"Yeah." A low voice rumbled above, so quiet she was probably the only one who heard Max.

As the scene continued, she shot Max a worried glance, which he returned. The question
How are we going to get through this?
seemed to hang in the air between them.

***

As soon as Rita moved on from blocking that kissing scene in
excruciating
detail, Max and Nicola very literally ran away from each other. She retreated to the back of the theater to "review her lines," and he fled into the green room to get his shit together. And to let his raging hard-on subside a bit in privacy.

He flung himself into the empty lounge and, with infinite care, pushed the green room door closed. If he didn't close the door carefully he was going to slam it, which would draw too much attention. "Fuck . . . " He raked his fingers into his hair and pulled on the roots. "
Fuck
."

"Something the matter?"

Max whirled to find Lachlan was already in the green room. Smirking, the other man lay reclining on the couch with his script spread in his lap.
 

Max smoothed the stiffness out of his face. "Nah. Just stuff with my brother."

"The glorious Peter. I should have known."

Max crossed to the pile of his things in the green room's cubby holes. "Do you need a ride home tonight?" he asked, hoping to distract Lachlan.

"No ride needed. If I can't find more congenial company then Tierney will give me a lift. She and I were heading to the pub after rehearsal. Care to tag along?"

Max grimaced his answer.

"Such a teetotaler, our Max.
Tch
."

"I'm gonna go straight home tonight, shower, and sleep." Still trying to appear too busy – too
distracted
– to talk, Max fished for his phone in his duffle. Come to think of it, Max
was
waiting to hear from his agent about a film part. While he was creating phony stage business for himself, he might as well actually check for calls. Max tugged his phone free of the mess in his bag. No calls from his agent, but he had three text messages. All from his brother.

9:04 A.M.: Morgen. Wie gehts?

12:47 P.M.: Tierney said U kissed Nic onstage. U OK?
 

2:11 P.M.: if you sleep with nic I WILL punch you in the face. then i'll tell mom
.

"Verdammt Peter." Annoyed, Max shoved his phone deep into his bag.
Damn, damn,
damn Peter
.

Max crossed to the water cooler for a drink, his skin seeming to throb as it released the heat and inched toward a normal temperature. The perfunctory California spring had ended, and today the sunlight was out full force, gilding everything with cheerful, yellow light. Max was glad he'd worn a t-shirt; he'd been in flannel shirts all last week.
 

Icy water trickled out of the cooler and the tiny, thin paper cup felt like a thimble in his hand. Insufficient. He pounded one cupful back then refilled his thimble.
 

"So." Lachlan's soft, cultured voice was right behind him. The other man slung an arm over his shoulders, making Max slosh water onto the carpet. "You and the new Titania. What's the story there?"

Max froze, chill water splashing over his hand.
 

Things were awkward enough between him and Nicola what with the kissing and the chemistry. The last thing they needed was for Lachlan to start gossip about Max and Nicola being a
thing
within the cast. Even discussion and speculation about Max and Nicola as a past tense
thing
was more than Max wanted to handle.
 

"No story," Max said it calmly enough but, judging by the speculative gleam in Lachlan's eye, Max had taken too long to respond. Lachlan's interest was well and truly piqued now.

Lachlan nudged Max out of the way and got his own puny white cup of water. "No story at all? Excellent. Then you won't mind if I – "

"Touch her and die." Max kept his voice level then took a slow drink, watching Lachlan over the paper rim. Discretion was one thing; letting Lachlan within ten feet of Nicola was another thing entirely. One that would never,
never
happen.

Lachlan smirked. "Like that, is it?"

"Exactly like that." Max flashed his teeth at Lachlan and crumpled the white cup in his fist then dropped the crushed paper into the trash.
 

Lachlan quirked one of his damn eyebrows and leaned closer for a conspiratorial whisper. "Is the lady herself aware of this fact?"

"What lady?" Tierney said, making them both jump.

"What are you doing out of the costume shop?" Max asked, before Lachlan could say anything, could
explain
anything.
 

Tierney frowned, and gave a haughty toss of her hot pink hair. "What, like I'm the hired help? Am I like fucking Quasimodo or something? Am I supposed to stay in my dank, dark hole and make costumes for you like your slave?"

"Um."

"Whatever." Tierney flipped her hand at him in a gesture of dismissal. "Rita said I can have you for a bit to do a fitting on the Oberon costume. Come on."

Max darted a glare at Lachlan – whose smirk really would split his face in half if it got any wider. Lachlan wiggled his fingers at Max in a small wave. "Don't worry, Maxim. I'll take care of Nicola while you're gone. She won't be lonely."

Asshole
, Max thought, glowering. He had no choice, though, but to follow Tierney to the costume shop.

Which left Lachlan with an open field for whatever sort of mischief or mayhem he had in mind for Nicola.

***

Rita, perhaps feeling Nicola was up to speed, at the end of that day started working on scenes between the four young lovers. Which meant the poor, exhausted fairy queen could sit in the audience and rest for a bit. And try super hard not to think about kissing Max. Again.

Always
.

She twisted her fingers in her hair, pretending to read her script as she thought
Why did I want this part?
for the millionth time.

"Hullo," a beautiful voice said behind her.
 

Nicola turned to see Lachlan. Any distraction would have been welcome. A handsome, charming, British one was really welcome. "'Hello, spirit,'" she said. "'Whither wander you?'"

His mouth twitched at her
Midsummer
in-joke. "Over hill, over dale. I do wander . . . wherever there are pretty women to be found."

She cocked her head to the side and pretended to frown. "
Hmm
. I don't remember the line going like that."

"Oh. Must have misremembered it." His eyelid shivered down in a wink. "You're doing a wonderful job, by the way. Top notch. Probably the best fairy queen I've ever seen. The sexiest, for sure."
 

This was what most everyone (except Judith) had been saying so far, but 'good job' was always nice to hear. "You too. I love what you're doing with Puck. Your vocal variety alone blows my mind." His face was really mobile too, but that was more difficult to compliment someone on. 'You do incredible things with your eyebrows?'
No
.

"We're all going round for drinks after rehearsal," he said. "Care to quaff carouses to celebrate your first week as Queen?"

"Where?"

"The Boar's Head Pub. It's the cast meeting ground. A retired RSF alum owns it."

She laughed. "'The Boar's Head'? That
would
be an actor hangout. Isn't that the pub in
Henry IV
?"

"Yes, but our pub is B-O-R-E. Bore. You'll see." He grinned. "The Bore is about five minutes down the hill." He hunkered behind her audience chair until only his large, ice blue eyes were peeking over the back, watching her reactions. "Coming then?"

She bit her lip, hesitant. Her first few days she'd been so exhausted after rehearsal it was all she could do to drag herself to the car and white-knuckle it through her hour-long commute home. But today hadn't been so wearing, not physically, and she should start playing nice. If she didn't have anyone to talk to during her breaks she'd go nuts.

But if the pub was a cast hangout should she risk running into Max?
 

Lachlan tilted towards her, and the melodic thrum of his baritone tickled along her neck. "Dear Maxim isn't coming, by the way. He told me he was going straight home after rehearsal. If that matters." Lachlan cocked one of his ridiculously mobile eyebrows, his gaze blazing a challenge to her.
 

Annoyed to find herself so transparent, she tilted her chin up. "I wouldn't care if Max was coming. He and I are old friends."

"Good," Lachlan all but purred. He blinked expectantly, still waiting for her answer.

"Is this a company members only thing, or can I invite my friend Cassie?"
 

"By all means, the more the merrier. Particularly if the 'more' in question are women. I'll see you at The Bore tonight then?"

"Of course," she said. "Can't wait."

"Excellent." He gave her a small salute, touching fingers to brow, then backed away, presumably to round up more members of the cast for drinks.
 

Nicola puffed her breath out, jittery and on edge, but not quite sure why. She'd had a stressful week, yes, what with one thing and another, but she should be excited by drinks out. Networking. New friends. Beautiful men. Beautiful
British
men.
Fun?
These things should not be giving her an ulcer.
 

So why did she feel as if she were signaling for reinforcements when she pulled up Cassie's number on her phone?

"Hello?"

"Cass, do you feel like getting drinks tonight with me and some of the other actors?"

"I dunno, Nic. I have work tomorrow. Unless you need me to guard against the ex-boyfriend I think I should stay home."
 

"No. Nothing like that. Just thought you might want to hang." Nicola restrained a sigh, determined not to guilt-trip her friend into going out – although she did want Cassie there as a buffer. Between her and Lachlan. The man was just too smooth, and Nicola wasn’t ready to jump into a show affair with him.
 

A long pause stretched over the phone line. "Will there be hot men?" Cassie asked at last.
 

Nicola punched her fist into the air then laid her Ace down on the table. "There will be hot
British
men, my friend."

"I'm getting my car keys."

Nicola laughed, but her anxiety was only slightly eased. "See you at The Bore's Head then."

***

After Tierney finished poking and measuring him, Max hurried to the theater. He was hoping to maybe catch Nicola. To say goodbye. A
friendly
goodbye.

He sighed.
You're not even fooling yourself, you know?

"I know," he muttered as he grabbed his duffle from the green room. No sign of Nicola backstage, dammit. He'd wanted to make sure they were OK, that the kissing hadn't derailed their working relationship.
 

Yeah, Max. Your
working
relationship. Sure
. He rolled his eyes at himself and hustled to pack his things, seriously not in the mood to chat with the other company members who were loitering.
 

He was almost safe out the back door of the theater when a soft alto voice called him. "Max?"

He turned to see Judith O'Fallon shadowing him down the aisle. She was impeccably coiffed in a short gray dress with a chunky beaded necklace. He wondered if she'd been in rehearsals that day at all; because her outfit struck him more like date wear. Maybe she'd been stuck in the admin building all day. That would explain the fancy get-up.

Judith trotted up to him and tossed her white blonde hair. "You are a difficult man to track. I've been trying to catch up with you for days."

Max winced. He'd forgotten Judith wanted to talk to him. His brain had pretty much been stuck on an all-Nicola-all-the-time loop this week.
 

Not good. Journeymen actors did
not
blow off directors who were about to cast for next season.

With an effort, he managed to spread his lips in a smile. "I'm sorry, Judith. Things were pretty intense this week breaking in the new Titania. When would you like to meet?"

"Could you do it now?" Judith said. "We could sit for a bit and have a nice, informal chat. Isn't that pub near here? The Bore's Head?"

Chapter Nine

The Bore's Head lay down the road from the theater, a crisp white building with dark brown trimming and a thatched roof to make it appear pseudo-Elizabethan like the RSF theater. The Bore's swinging, old-timey wooden pub sign featured the caricature of a famous theater critic's head with little Xes where his eyes should be. The booze was cheap, the atmosphere warm, the company congenial, and Nicola was pretty sure she'd found one of her new favorite places.