A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (21 page)

"I'm sorry. And you're right." She slid a sideways glance his way. "So today – what we did . . . it was a fling-thing then? Casual?"

"What was it for you?" he tossed back, and the breath seemed to catch in his chest, snagging under his sternum as he waited for her response.

The corners of her lips turned up, the insinuation of a smile. "I thought you didn't want to have this talk right now."

His slid his hand down, loosening his grip, and moved from holding her wrist to squeezing her hand. "We seem to be having it anyway. So?"

She scratched the back of her neck and jiggled her hand to free it from his grip.

Not good
.
 

But then she stared at him, heat and hunger in her eyes, and her gaze flicked to his mouth like she was thinking about kissing him.

Good
.

"Max, I don't know. I honestly do not know."

Not good
.

Or was it? He glanced away from her, trying to gather his own thoughts, parse his own feelings. Did he know what the sex this afternoon had meant? What he wanted? He had feelings about it, sure, a tangled mess of a queasy knot in his stomach – half delighted, half terrified, all nauseous.
 

What did it mean?
How could he demand she answer that question when he couldn't?
Of course, he did have one crystal clear, undeniable feeling: he wanted it to happen again. Whatever it had meant.
 

The ashy, burnt scent of cigarettes tickled his nostrils. Max turned then waved as Tierney and Lachlan returned to the guest chairs.

Max shot Nicola a rueful look.
Later?

Her mouth twitched, but she nodded.
Later.

***

Isabelle returned from her visit with Rita after about fifteen minutes. Tierney rose, opening her mouth in a question. Isabelle held her hand up. "Give me a sec, Tier." The artistic director hurried out through the sliding glass doors of the hospital.
 

Nicola shifted in her seat, glancing at the others.
Are they as freaked out right now as me?

Tierney kept twisting her mint and lilac-colored hair around and around, flipping it over her shoulder, pulling it back forward to fall over her chest. She bit off part of one black painted nail then spit the end into a potted plant.
 

Lachlan had gone still, deep into British Stiff Upper Lip Land; his arms lay perfectly aligned on the chair rests.

Nicola looked over at Max and saw him gazing at her with an odd light in his eyes, a hidden spark she didn't dare interpret. Heat pooled in her gut, an anticipating kind of warmth.

Stop it
.

Isabelle returned, appearing composed, cool as a Queen carved from ice.
 

Tierney rocketed to her feet. "Mom?"

"We need to talk about
Midsummer
." Isabelle arranged herself in a guest chair then glanced around and gathered each of them in by eye. "Rehearsal is on for tomorrow."

Max frowned. "But Rita – "

"Rita agreed with me.
Midsummer
is the centerpiece of our summer season. We can't afford to delay opening night." Isabelle puffed out a slow breath. "I'm putting Judith in charge of the production as director."

Nicola winced.
I'm screwed
.

"You all should go home and rest before rehearsal tomorrow. Rita's all right, and I'm going to stay to keep Quinnie company." Isabelle spoke with her Voice Imperial, but, Nicola reasoned, Isabelle knew Rita and Quinn better than any of them. Quinn would probably do better with one good friend for company instead of a pack of people. And Rita wouldn't let anyone but Isabelle into her room to visit anyway.

Still reluctant, nevertheless the four of them gathered themselves up and departed.
 

So it was, poor Max ended up with a car-full as he departed the hospital. Tierney sat shotgun; Lachlan and Nicola occupied the backseat. Nicola sat in the opposite corner from Lachlan, who still reeked of cigarettes.

"Judith O'Fallon," Tierney spat out, cigarette pack in hand as she fished in her purse for her lighter.
 

Max glanced over and, with one hand still on the wheel, plucked the cigarettes out of her fingers.

"
Hey
."

"Not in my car, Tee."

Tierney rolled her eyes but dropped the lighter back into her bag. Max chucked the cigarettes in there too.

Nicola frowned, disbelieving the evidence of her eyes. She'd never imagined Max could quit smoking.

"It's so insulting," Tierney continued. "Giving the gig to Judith. Max, you've been knee-deep in
Midsummer
for weeks. Rita's right-hand man. You could have taken over easy but
noooo
." Tierney folded her arms, slouching in her seat. "Mom had to give the gig to one of her pals."

"Me as director?" Max scoffed. "I'm not ready for that, Tee."

"No, but you're not an asshole like Judith." A loud
crunch
filled the car as Tierney bit off part her nail.

"Do you know Judith well?" Nicola asked.

"She and my mom were cronies in the Golden Days of the
Thea-tuh
. You know, when you had to walk
barefoot
in the
snow
just to get to the stage."

Nicola laughed. "Uphill? Both ways?"

Tierney leaned around the seat to grin at her. "Exactly."

"I think Judith is talented," Lachlan said. "I'm sure she'll bring interesting ideas to the table."

Tierney made a rude noise. "Practicing your ass kissing already, Lach? Careful, you don't want to wear your lips out before you see Judith."

Lachlan bared his teeth at Tierney.

The silence from Max seemed deafening. And what did
he
think of Judith? Nicola craned around, trying to see his face, but the angle was wrong. All she could see was one muscle ticking in his jaw. He startled her as he said, "Hey, Nic, what's the plan?"

"Plan for what?"

"Well, I can drive you to get your car at the theater, or, if you're too tired, I can drive you all the way to your place. Or you could crash at the bunkhouse."

"The bunkhouse?"

"Our flat," Lachlan said.
 

"We have an empty room." Max's voice was so carefully neutral as to be almost a monotone.

Did he not want her to stay over? Or did he want her to stay over so much he couldn't show how much he wanted her to stay over, or maybe –
oh, shut up
. She leaned toward the front seat. "I don't want to make the commute back from my place – not now and not in the morning, but I don't have anything to wear to rehearsal."

"You can borrow some of my things," Lachlan said at once.
 

"Or," Max said, "we could throw your clothes in the wash."

"So everyone can think I'm doing a walk of shame?" she said.

Tierney grinned. "What do you think they'll believe if you show up in Lachlan's castoffs?"

"Right."

"So?" Max asked.

"So." Nicola sighed. "Home, Jeeves. Your home."

"Can I crash there too?" Tierney asked, her voice small. "I don't want to be alone in the ancestral pile tonight."

"Sure, Tee. No problem."

"Great." Tierney nodded to herself, pleased. But then she thumped her hands against the dashboard. "Fucking Judith O'Fallon. Unbelievable."

Chapter Thirteen

Max's "bunkhouse" was palatial, and situated in one of the swankiest neighborhoods in Pasadena – and Pasadena had some pretty damn swanky parts to it. It was a two story house with a brick front, wide windows facing the street, and a heavy wooden door with lead paned glass at the top. As Max rolled the car to a stop Lachlan and Tierney, already familiar with The Bunkhouse, hopped out and went straight inside. Nicola, having never seen the house before, lingered a little to gawk.

The house sort of loomed over her as she approached. Max was waiting for her by the front door and she wheeled toward him, her mouth agape. "
Max
. This is a legitimate mansion!"

"Talk to Peter. He bought it. I only manage the property for him."

"How many people live here?"

"Lachlan and I are in the main house and there's an empty room," Max said. "Abe Tully, he's playing Starveling the Tailor, rents the pool house, but he's been staying at his new boyfriend's a lot. We don't see him much."

She walked inside and admired the dark wood finish on the staircase, the red carpet runners, the cream curtains, and striped wall paper. The décor was elegant without feeling stuffy, but it had a distinctly feminine touch. An older feminine touch. "Your mom decorated before she decided it was too big for her?"

"Yup." Max motioned her inside then through one of the open arched doorways that, she found, let into the spacious living room. The living room – probably because that room saw the most use – had a more masculine, lived in feel. Rustic wood paneling lay below red painted walls, and the room was furnished with a squashy brown leather couch and matching chairs, a
big
TV, and a foosball table.
 

Max puffed his breath out and stretched. His shirt rode up, flashing his chiseled stomach. He glanced at her and Tierney. "Do you guys want to flip a coin to see who gets the couch and who gets the spare bedroom?"

"It's a queen size bed, isn't it?" Tierney asked.

"Yeah."

"Then why don't we share it? It's not a big deal. Right, Nic?"

"No."

Max and Lachlan exchanged a quick, flashing glance which seemed to say,
Nicola and Tierney in bed together? That's hot
. Then the guys' faces went carefully blank, like kids who've got something hidden behind their backs they don't want the grown-up to see.

Nicola laughed.
 

Max grinned. "Did you want to throw your stuff in the wash?" He started out of the living room, and she followed him up the stairs. Behind them, she heard Tierney demanding Lachlan supply her with some PJs to sleep in. Tierney was tall enough, she probably could fit in Lachlan's pants.

As Nicola followed Max up the stairs, she kept flicking her gaze back and forth between his broad shoulders and taut ass. She swallowed, her stomach all shivery.
We had sex today.
The thought was odd, chilling. The day had been so long, taken such an odd turn, their earlier interlude together seemed far off now.
But I'm sleeping in his house tonight. His bed must be close by
–
 

"Nicola?"

"What?" She blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Yes to the washer. Can I borrow something to sleep in?"

Max blinked once. Very slowly. Then he shook himself. "Sure. Shirt and boxers OK?"

"They always were before."
 

A muscle next to his eye ticked.
 

She flinched
. Right
. Perfect time to remind him of
that
.

But then Max grinned. "You ever planning to give me my Caltech t-shirt back?"

"Ha!" She set her hands on her hips. "Are you ever going to give me back my New York panties?"

"Nope. I have fond memories attached to those."

Me too.
Her throat prickled. She'd worn them the first time they'd made love, and then, in a silly, loving mood, she'd gifted them to Max as a remembrance of the night.
 

"Do you remember that warm-up tongue twister we used to do before
R&J
rehearsals?" he said and wiggled his eyebrows.
 

Nicola soft-punched his arm. "Yes. You
dick
."

Max sing-songed the tongue twister back to her, "'You know New York, you need New York. You know you need unique New York.'"

"Bastard." Nicola choked on a bubble of laughter. Max used to make excessive eye contact with her during warm-up, only the two of them understanding the private joke attached to "New York." After their first night together that particular tongue twister had never failed to make her break out in giggles.
 

"And what happened to my underwear today, panty thief?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wanted to call them back. Did she really need to remind him they'd slept together a few hours ago?

"I'll get those back to you soon." Max slowed in front of a closed door. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his voice rough as he swung the bedroom door open. "This'll be your room tonight."
 

Suddenly, that afternoon felt incredibly near, immediate, like she'd been kissing him, loving him only a second ago. "Max – "

His phone jangled, loud and discordant. Max fumbled the cell free of his pocket, glanced at the screen, then swore.

"Who is it?"

"Peter."

"Oh."
Peter probably hates me
, Nicola realized. And that was fair. If she had a sibling they would hate Max. Still, the thought was depressing. When she was with Max it was so easy to let herself forget why they were apart, what they had been through.