Read Online A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) by Beth Matthews - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Beth Matthews
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wanted to drop her head into her hands and weep with frustration.
But the two of them were already standing outside the costume shop, and her escort tugged the door open, holding it for her. "After you."
She beamed at him, feeling kind of fluttery. He was very cute.
The costume shop was a claustrophobic little room with a long table at the center and cabinets lining every wall. A maze of doors seemed to have bred like bunnies in the room. Nicola frowned, wondering where all the doors could possibly lead.
"Oh good, actors ," Tierney said by way of greeting as they entered her shop, her voice dripping contempt.
"Yes, quite shocking to find actors in a theater. Hello, my petal, had your caffeine yet?" Nicola's new friend swung around Tierney's work table to kiss the costume mistress on the cheek.
Tierney batted him away and returned her attention to the pattern she was laying out. "Nicola, I see you've met Lachlan."
"Not officially." The man, Lachlan, turned to Nicola, a smirk curling his gorgeous mouth. He clicked his heels together and bowed at the waist. "Lachlan Stuart."
"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
But the two of them were already standing outside the costume shop, and her escort tugged the door open, holding it for her. "After you."
She beamed at him, feeling kind of fluttery. He was very cute.
The costume shop was a claustrophobic little room with a long table at the center and cabinets lining every wall. A maze of doors seemed to have bred like bunnies in the room. Nicola frowned, wondering where all the doors could possibly lead.
"Oh good, actors ," Tierney said by way of greeting as they entered her shop, her voice dripping contempt.
"Yes, quite shocking to find actors in a theater. Hello, my petal, had your caffeine yet?" Nicola's new friend swung around Tierney's work table to kiss the costume mistress on the cheek.
Tierney batted him away and returned her attention to the pattern she was laying out. "Nicola, I see you've met Lachlan."
"Not officially." The man, Lachlan, turned to Nicola, a smirk curling his gorgeous mouth. He clicked his heels together and bowed at the waist. "Lachlan Stuart."
"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
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