Read A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Beth Matthews
"Nicola Charles." She extended her hand to him.
As he held her palm, his eyebrows quirked and his mouth crimped at some secret joke.
Watching him, Nicola was both bemused and amused as she realized he was deciding whether to kiss her hand or not. But, after holding her fingers a beat too long, all Lachlan did was shake. Although his smile did widen as he gazed at her face.
She, unashamedly, stared back just because he was so very nice to look at. His face was a long oval with a classic Patrician nose, close-set blue eyes and soft, waving red hair with a matching beard to die for.
He was handsome in that willowy way British guys pull off so well. He'd be right at home in Regency gear proclaiming his love to a Jane Austen heroine, or maybe dying heroically fighting Napoleon. Or really doing anything in that genre of classy, British stiff-upper-lip.
And with his soft, velvety voice, like Alan Rickman's kid brother or something, he could probably read the phone book and have women fainting in the aisles. Listening to him recite a Shakespeare sonnet just might cause spontaneous orgasm.
To break herself out of
that
thought, Nicola gave him a perky grin and pulled up one of the stools around Tierney's work table. "So, Lachlan, who do you play in
Midsummer
?" Judging by that glint in his eye and the magnetism in his smile, she already had a fairly good guess.
Or a
fairy
good guess. Ha ha.
"He's your husband's bitch," Tierney put in.
"Huh?"
Lachlan's eyebrows tipped up at the inside corners, and he cast a dry glance at Tierney. "I'm playing Puck," he said. "If you don't yet speak Tierney's language." Lachlan fixed all of his somewhat disconcerting attention on Nicola. "And you're our new fairy queen. It will be a distinct pleasure to serve you, my lady."
This time he
did
kiss her hand, and Nicola giggled. She was used to the overblown personality of actors, but this was a bit much to take on her first day.
Nicola opened her mouth to reply to him, but Tierney cut in, "Watch out, Nicola. Lachlan's the company slut. Goes through a woman a day, pretty much. Better steer clear of him until you've had all your shots."
Lachlan bared his teeth, but before the moment could twist to higher levels of conflict, the shop door banged open. Max filled the whole doorway with his frame and height and sheer presence, making Lachlan seem very much smaller. Max started toward Nicola, heat and purpose in his gaze.
Rita fluttered into the room and cut between the two of them, settling onto a stool next to Nicola. "All right, my darlings," the director chirped out, placing her hands flat on the work table. "Isabelle approved the new fairy costumes yesterday – "
"
Finally
," Tierney muttered.
"So I wanted to talk to you three about what we are going to do for your fairy looks."
Max folded his arms and made himself comfortable leaning against the wall. Lachlan, perhaps as a reaction to Max's blunt stance, sat on the floor at Rita's feet and pretzeled his long legs into a yoga-like pose.
"First of all: the hair," Rita said. "We are going to dye both of you – "
Both men emitted identical roars of disapproval then launched into what could only be termed a bout of whining. Manly whining, of course.
"Not
again
– "
"My
face
peeled off – "
"It bloody
burns
– "
"We aren't even
playing
brothers this time – "
Rita shushed them, flapping her hands. Nicola hid a chuckle behind her palm and looked a question at Rita.
The director rolled her eyes. "When we did
King
Lear
a few years ago, these two played the brothers, Edmund and Edward – "
"Edgar," Max growled. His blonde brows were drawn together in a scowl. With his mane of dark blonde hair and the scruff on his face, he resembled a lion. An adorable, pissed off lion. "You are
not
bleaching my beard," he declared. "Never again."
"Seconded," Lachlan said, lifting his finger in the air.
Tierney rolled her eyes. "Oh my God. You
pussies
. I bleach my hair all the time."
"Clearly," Lachlan said, "dear heart, you are made of sterner stuff than we."
"
Anyway
," Tierney continued Rita's story, ignoring Lachlan. "When we did
Lear
we all thought it would be cool if these two looked more like brothers. So we bleached their hair. Heads. Eyebrows. Beards." She wrinkled her nose. "In hindsight, the beards were a mistake."
"You think?" Max rumbled. He cast Nicola a wounded look. "Our skin started to peel. In our Elizabethan gear we looked like particularly well-bred zombies."
Nicola made a sympathetic
moue
. "Poor lambs."
He sent her a dark look, and she caught herself leaning toward him, smiling into his eyes. But when he tilted toward her, shadowing her face, she did a wide turn on her stool to face the table away from Max.
Always
away from Max. That was the way to go.
Rita waved her hands in the air, as if wiping clean the white board of their conversation. "No bleach. Do not get any haircuts before we open. I want all my fairies to have long, beautiful hair." She dragged her fingers through Lachlan's luxurious red locks, and he butted his head into her hand like a cat. Nicola laughed at his antics, and he shot her a mischievous glance through his lashes.
Max shifted in her peripheral vision, and she had to stiffen her muscles to stop herself from peeking at him.
Again
. How was she even supposed to get through a scene with him like this? And with herself like this: hyper-aware, half-turned on, only managing not to think about that stupid kiss through sheer stubbornness.
"Lachlan, we're going to take you dark. Black hair with some colored highlights. Purple, green, blue. And you'll have to shave the goatee." Tierney was speaking, she'd dug out her sketches and laid them on the work table. Lachlan uncurled from the floor and leaned over to gaze at his Puck costume.
Max pushed from the wall and loomed over Nicola's shoulder to see his own sketch. She caught a hint of soap and clean male skin, Max's spicy cologne, and mint from his mouth. For a moment, she was too distracted to do anything except breathe.
"Maxim, my love," Rita said. "No bleach, I promise, but for you we want to take your hair a shade or two lighter."
"Shit," he said behind Nicola, his voice like a boom of thunder before the lightning comes.
Tierney poked his shoulder. "Blondes have the most fun, Max."
Lachlan waggled his eyebrows. "That's because there aren't enough gingers to go around."
"And, Max," Tierney said, "we want you to keep growing the beard out."
"Yes," Rita put in, a sour expression on her face. "So often in
Midsummer
productions they make all the fairies androgynous. Nothing but spandex and leaves." She made a frustrated gesture toward her lap and clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Not in my play. We will have manly fairies. Strong. Handsome." She squeezed Max's bicep, giggling. "Big."
Max good-naturedly flexed his arm for Rita. Nicola rolled her eyes but her mouth went dry, watching those taut muscles move beneath his golden skin. Rita did have a point about the appeal of more 'manly' fairies.
Tierney shuffled through more of her sketches. "So. Costumes . . . "
Nicola could only be grateful as they turned to talk of fabrics, fit, and silhouettes. With Lachlan determined to flirt with her on one hand, and Max all up in her awareness just by standing in the same room, Nicola had more than a little trouble holding up her end of the conversation.
She was disappointed, though, when the discussion turned to her character but Tierney had no sketch to show.
The costumer gave an apologetic shrug. "I decided to do something different with Titania after we cast you. Give me a few days. For now, same instructions as the others: don't cut your hair." Tierney narrowed her eyes, gazing with intent at Nicola's hair, her mind obviously clicking through ideas. "I have plans for that hair."
Nicola wet her lips. "Um, Judith mentioned . . . she thought I should lose a little weight."
Rita scoffed. "So you can blow over in the middle of performances?
No
, mija."
"Judith's crazy," Lachlan muttered.
Max rumbled his assent too.
Puffing out her breath, Nicola smiled. "OK." So she wasn't deluded about her own figure; Judith just had a mean streak.
Good to know
.
Nicola shook her head, sliding off her stool as the meeting broke up, suddenly nervous again. Rehearsal was about to start. Her first rehearsal. With Max. Her foot caught on the bottom ring of the stool and she bobbled forward.
Max caught her arm and held her close. "Nic, we need to talk. Alone."
She swallowed.
Oh Lord
. A talk. Max never talked. Why did they need to talk? What was there to talk about? Talking could only end badly. And
alone
-talking . . . that was a recipe for total disaster. She realized how sharply she was shaking her head as a heavy lock of her hair slipped free from her bun. Max's eyebrows climbed upward while he watched her.
"No. We're fine, Max." She tugged free of his hold and skittered toward the door, shadowing Rita close, almost stepping on the back of the other woman's flats.
No talking
. Talking was bad. Talking was to be avoided at all costs.
"Nicola," Tierney called.
Crap
. A perfect escape foiled by the pink-haired girl.
With what dignity she could scrape together, Nicola did an about-face. "Yes, Tierney?"
"I still need to do all the measuring for your costume."
"Right. Of course. See you at rehearsal . . . everyone." Nicola stepped toward the door, bumping into Lachlan as he tried to get through at the same time. He shuffled back, motioning the way for her.
Max tried to linger, waiting Nicola out, but Rita hollered for him from the hallway. He made his exit, but the glance he sent Nicola on his way out promised he would make her talk later.
Oh joy
.
Chapter Seven
For some reason, Rita was determined to have Max walk her to the stage for rehearsal. She'd linked her arm with his and kept chattering away with all sorts of random thoughts about his character, about the play. Rita was clearly trying to distract him, to keep him from talking to Nicola.
Fantastic
. Because he could always use someone meddling in his life. It was his fucking favorite thing ever. Now Rita had a death grip on his arm, and no way would she let him go if he said he wanted to try to catch Nicola alone.
So: subterfuge. He tugged his arm free and stepped back. "'Scuse me, Rita, I need to take a leak." With that, he jogged off toward the admin building.
"Maxim!" Rita called after him, her voice vibrating with frustration.
Free at last, he bounded back up the hill then bolted the stairs and whipped the door open to the office. He nearly collided with Judith O'Fallon as she stepped out.
"Oh, hi, Judith," he said, panting from his mini-jog. He craned to peer into the office suite, hoping to catch sight of Nicola, but she wasn't there. Which meant she'd gone out the other way or she was still wandering lost in the labyrinth of the admin building.
Here's hoping she's totally lost
, he thought as he waited for Judith to pass him so he could start combing the hallways for Nicola.
But Judith lingered in the doorway, one of her brows arched as she studied him. "Good morning, Max."
He felt an entirely masculine stir at the rich invitation in her voice. Judith was still a knockout with a great figure: ripe breasts, round hips. He'd never been opposed to older women, but he
was
opposed to sleeping with directors. That could get messy quick; messy with a capital 'M' for: "Max, you're fired." Better not to take the chance.
"No rehearsal?" Judith asked.
"I needed to get something from the admin building."
"Ah."
Max waited, but Judith continued staring at him, a flirty smirk curling her mouth. Was he pumping pheromones this week or something? With Nicola jumping him yesterday and Judith undressing him with her eyes, he felt a bit overwhelmed. He didn't
want
to flirt, not before coffee, but he couldn't shove past Judith either.
"I wanted to get some time alone with you, Max," she said, forehead furrowed with thought.
"Excuse me?"
She shot him a startled glance then gave a throaty laugh, patting his arm. "Oh no. Max, honestly. I wanted to talk to you for a bit about some stuff coming up the pike for the fall."