Read Online The Dimple Strikes Back by Lucy Woodhull - Free Book Online

queen. I stopped in front of a portrait that featured Elizabeth I standing atop a map of England. Yes. Top of the heap. Large and in charge. I grinned and nodded up at her, redhead to redhead, virgin queen to non-virgin commoner.
    She had the right idea. I’m the boss of me.
    Danny leant down to me and, sotto voce , asked, “Did you really foil an international group of art thieves?”
    My head whipped up, the shock in my face palpable and likely guilty-looking. He put his hand to his mouth to cover a laugh and said, “My goodness, you did!”
    “No. That’s just tabloid…tabloidery.”
    “You’re fibbing. I read that you testified at a trial.” He peeked over his shoulder to spy two teenage girls who’d crept close to us. They squealed and ran away to the other side of the gallery, where they were bolstered enough to begin filming us on their phones. As one, we smiled, waved and left the room to visit Henry VIII. I’d always rather hoped he burned in hell for throwing away wives like soiled tissues, especially when sex selection is made by the male of the species. How beautifully ironic that the best thing to come out of him was a daughter. And maybe a church, you know, depending on your God views.
    “Is that why you cast me? Because you think I have practical experience?”
    “No, no—that’s merely a bonus. I need a funny foil. I’ve not done a lot of humour, but I’d like to.”
    My eyebrows shot up. Wow. This guy was an esteemed alumnus of the Royal Shakespeare Company. He’d won an Oscar and several BAFTAs. I couldn’t even boast a People’s Choice award. And all this while being a man of colour. Leading men of Chinese descent were rare in the cinema, and even rarer were the ones who’d never performed a lick of martial arts. “Well, I hope to pratfall gracefully to try and make you look good. Because, you know, it’s so hard for you to come off well.”
    He expelled an offended breath, alleviated by the gleam in his eye. “I’ll have you know that I am a terribly respected thespian. One time, Kim Kardashian said that I was, like, totally hot and stuff.”
    “It’s the ‘and stuff’ that cuts the quality actors from the chaff.”
    “‘Quality’ is my middle name.”
    “Is that Chinese?”
    He winked. “After my great-grandfather.”
    We stopped in front of a painting of young Henry VIII. Danny scooted in behind me. His heat radiated through the breezy maxi dress I wore, giving me thoughts . Generally, I find thoughts to be wicked, especially the ones in my brain, which embraced the seven deadly sins with great gusto. He got so close to my ear it tickled me straight to my funny-feelings bone. “Shall we lift one of these for practice? Or will we limit our skullduggery to the British Museum, under the guise of ‘rehearsal’?”
    I nearly choked on my own spit. Did I only attract men with grand larceny in their hearts? I drifted away and flung a smile back over my shoulder. “It’s all fun and games until you’re frisked by a hardened police officer with cold hands.”
    Danny opened his mouth to quiz me more on matters I didn’t want to speak of, so I went on the offensive. It’s a trick I’d learned in Hollywood—everyone loves talking about themselves, and will do so for you gladly when you want to change the subject. Although it did not escape me that he’d read up on me. My ego swelled further under my pushup bra. “So, Danny, how on Earth are you single?”
    “Who says I am?” This delivered with a chin swish the likes of spymasters in old movies. “Although I am. Dreadfully so.”
    I put my hand to my heart, which broke for womankind everywhere. “Too gorgeous for the masses?”
    He scratched his eyebrow and blinked bashfully. Weird to see gestures you’d heretofore viewed forty feet high in your local movie house played before you on an intimate scale. “Not by half, I’m afraid. It’s challenging navigating what and who is real in this field. You must find that