A Midsummer Night's Fling (Much Ado about Love #1) (16 page)

“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.”

M
ax’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, led 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 stretched and 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 good enough?”

“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 wiggled his eyebrows.

Nicola soft-punched his arm. “Yes. You
dick
.”

Max singsonged 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.

“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.

But sex, or any physical intimacy, was too dangerous with Max. He had grown and changed, yes, but that didn’t mean
they
had grown more compatible. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t fall into the same damaging patterns she’d lived before with him. No matter how great a fuck he was, she had to remember they
did not work
. Better to go downstairs and attack Lachlan if she was feeling desperate for a man.

She glanced at Max as he denied the call and typed a text to his brother instead. Her throat tickled, a lump forming there as she admired the man he had become, his handsome face, his amazing physique, the warm summer blue of his eyes
.
She padded into the bedroom.

Gazing around, she stood there blinking, feeling like she’d been teleported into a bed-and-breakfast. The wallpaper was a jolly yellow stripe, and the room had a small window with red-and-green-plaid curtains. The bed had a swirling wooden frame with a red-and-gold floral comforter as well as a profusion of matching throw pillows. It looked a bit like the bed was vomiting up throw pillows, actually.

The room was cheery but narrow—the queen-size bed nearly filled it up—but the room had its own small bathroom and a closet. Peter had to be making megabucks to have bought this place and not even live there.

Max shoved his phone into his pocket. He breathed deeply once, in through his nose, then out through his lips.

Nicola retreated toward the bed, folding back the covers, tossing the throw pillows on to the room’s window seat. “Max, why were you so quiet about Judith?”

“What?”

“In the car and before. You’ve been weird since Isabelle announced Judith was taking over
Midsummer
. Aren’t you happy? If this is giving Lachlan more chances to suck up, then it’s giving you the same chances too.”

His feet shushed across the carpet as he moved toward her.

She cocked her head to the side as she studied his frowning face. “I know why I’m scared to work with her, but why are you?”

“I don’t know. There’s something off about Judith. I can’t quite… Well, it’s been a bitch of a day.”

“Understatement.”

“But it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

She wet her lips. “No.”

He ran his palm over her arm. “You better go to sleep.”

“Right.”

The corners of his eyes tightened with amusement. “Don’t kiss me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” She eased onto her tiptoes, tilting toward his mouth.

“
Liar,
” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers.

“Hey, Nic, I got some PJs for you.” Tierney banged into the room, knocking the door against the wall. “Do you sleep on the right or the left—
oh
.”

Max and Nicola sprang apart. Not fast enough, apparently. Or maybe too fast.

Tierney sauntered into the room, violet-and-green hair pinned up, wearing a long pair of men’s flannel pants and an oversized Eton College Fencing Team T-shirt. One of her winged black eyebrows was cocked. “Sorry, did I interrupt?”

“Shut up, Tierney,” Max muttered.

Tierney pulled up the covers, hopping into the plush bed with a Cheshire cat smirk firmly in place.

Nicola’s face flamed hot, and she whirled away. “Laundry, Max?”

“Right.” Max fluffed his fingers through his hair. “That way. Through the hall, behind the double doors. Well. Good night…everyone. Let me know if you need help with the wash, Nic.” He shut the door behind himself.

As soon as the door clicked close, Nicola fell face-first into her pillow. “Don’t say anything. Please, Tierney?”

Tierney scrunched down deeper under the covers. “I didn’t see nuthin’.”

“Thank you.”

“You know Judith O’Fallon is trying to bone Max, don’t you?”

Terrific
. Nicola sighed. “I had my suspicions.”

“Well,” Tierney’s voice quavered with suppressed laughter, “no matter what, tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.”

* * *

A
s he reached
his own bedroom, Max’s phone rang again. After a glance at the screen, he answered it. “Why are you calling me at”—he glanced at the hallway clock—“eleven? Don’t they give you enough movie star shit to do in Montreal?”

“Vancouver. We wrapped filming for the night, and I had an urge to check on you. How are things? How’s Nicola?”

“Who told you I was with Nicola tonight? Was it Tierney? I didn’t think she had your number.” A resonant snore sounded from next door. Max glared at the wall and remembered Lachlan had Peter’s phone number. They were drinking buddies when Peter was in town. Max growled. “It was the British prick, wasn’t it?”

“What makes you think I’m calling about Nicola?”

“Because you’re cock-blocking me. This phone call: pure cock-blocking.”

“Lachlan thought he had a good shot with her the other night,” Peter said. “Then you showed up. Sounds like I’m not the only one doing some cock-blocking.”

“Lachlan never had a shot with Nicola.”
I think.

“So he was imagining things? Because you remember our deal, right? No Nicola.”

Max wet his lips. If the movie star thing ever fell through, Peter could get good work as a meddling mother. So Peter did not need to know what had happened that afternoon between Max and Nicola. At all.
Ever
.

I wonder if I can get my hands on Lach’s phone and delete Pete’s number
. Max assumed a belligerent tone. “Lachlan was drunk off his ass the other night, Peter. I wouldn’t believe everything he says.”

“Right.” Peter didn’t sound convinced. “But still, no Nicola for you. No kissing. Nothing.”

“I will not be kissing Nicola anytime soon, Petey.” Never mind Max had been about two seconds away from kissing her in the bedroom. “Cross my heart. Now get off the damn phone. I want to go to sleep.”

“No kissing?”

“Do I give you shit about your love life? No kissing,
all right
?”

A long pause ensued, then Peter said, with a frightening heartiness, “Hey, I might be coming home soon for a visit. I wrap filming in a few days, and I have a break between projects.”

“Can’t wait.”

“And, remember, if you lie to me, I get to punch you in the face. Good night, little brother.”

“Good night, asshole.” Max hung up and stared at his phone for several long, despairing minutes. Peter coming for a visit right as Max was trying to work through things with Nicola?

“Shit.” He fell facedown on his bed, fighting to go to sleep. And fighting equally hard not to think about Nicola lying only two rooms away.