A Midsummer Night's Fling (Much Ado about Love #1) (32 page)

Tierney tried to maintain a cool demeanor, but a grin leaked through after that one. The costume designer was humming as she went to chivvy Nicola onstage. Since Tierney had already seen Nicola’s dawn costume next to his Oberon one that quite memorable afternoon, Max had already changed into his jeans. Without Nicola’s help, unfortunately.

Someone thumped into the seat behind Max and punched his shoulder. “Congratulations,” Peter murmured. “You seem right at home, little brother.”

“Ah yes, the sweet smell of a power trip,” Max said. “Like blood, sweat, and roses.”

“Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.”

“That’s a super intellectual reference for someone who falls off buildings for a living.”

“Oh please.” Peter rolled his eyes. “I fall backwards onto squashy mattresses. My
stunt men
fall off buildings for a living. I get paid to stand around and look pretty.” He leaned over in his chair and peered at Max’s face. Peter held his thumb and forefinger up about a millimeter apart. “You’re
this
close to puking, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much.” Max’s stomach felt so knotted and queasy, he was just used to it now. Although hasty movements weren’t a great idea at that particular moment. “I still don’t know what Isabelle is thinking. Maybe it’s a
Titanic
thing?”

“What?”

Max lowered his voice to make sure none of the others would hear. “You know like, ‘This
Midsummer
production is sinking anyway, might as well let Max have a shot at the helm before it goes under and everyone drowns.’”

Peter let out a crack of laughter, but then he must have seen Max’s expression because he leaned close again. “Shut the hell up. You’re brilliant, Maximilian. Don’t be a jack ass.” Then Peter ruffled Max’s hair like he used to do when he still had a foot of height on his little brother.

Max caught his brother’s wrist and shoved his hand off. “Go away, Pete. I’m very busy and important.”

“I heard Nicola killed it as Henry V today,” Peter murmured.

“She did.” Max was still buzzing over her performance. She always found such wonderful nuances in the lines, and her vocal variety was much better than his. Probably because she could sing and he was tone deaf. She was always so—

“How
are
things with Nicola?” Peter said.

“What do you mean?”

Peter held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Just checking in.”

“We’re fine. We’re great.”

“So it’s official? You guys are dating?”

“Uh.” They weren’t, were they? Max blinked and shrugged at his brother. “She and I are exclusive.”

That shut Peter up, and yeah Max and Nicola were exclusive, but it was still only a “fling.” She was leaving in July. She’d told him that. Told him all that she wanted was the physical parts, some fun.

How had Max let himself forget that?

“Ta-da!” Nicola reemerged, wearing the shimmery dawn dress with no back.

Max looked at her, and his heart squeezed.
Because it was Nicola
.

F
or Nicola
the next few days were a blur. Somehow the cast staggered through dress rehearsals and kept right on going through tech. Tech was a grueling process even when you haven’t gone through three directors in two weeks, but Max held it together. He was a natural, a calm center around which all the chaos flowed. Nicola couldn’t imagine any more experienced director doing a better job of managing such a difficult process. He’d even had energy leftover at the end of each night to make love to her at The Bunkhouse, holding her face and kissing her like the world was ending.

Somehow, the two of them got through the week of botched lighting cues, missed lines, screwed-up quick-changes (several of them her own) and all the fun drama that came with staging a play.

This was the cast’s last tech run-through before their day off. After the day off, it was time for previews. In front of an actual, real-live audience.

This was also the first day where they allegedly had everything in place, all the lights, the sets, the sound cues, the costumes. The goal of the day was to get all the way through without stopping, but, as the day wore on, things went wrong. People missed their cues trying to get changed in time. Set pieces fell over or interfered with the planned bit of blocking. Max stood in the wings watching everything unfold and gnawing on a fingernail. If he still smoked, Nicola rather thought he would have gone through a whole pack.

It wasn’t fair. The production wasn’t Max’s mess, but it was his job to clean it up now.

They had to stop because one of the flats had fallen, nearly braining an Amazon. Max charged onto the stage, uber-regal as the red Oberon cloak billowed behind him. He stared at the flat, which was encrusted with fake vines, then back at the real forest behind the stage. “Violet?” he called.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Do we even need this stupid flat?”

“It was Judith’s idea. She wanted more ‘atmosphere.’”

“Lose the flat.” Max pointed up the hill. “See that tree. Hide behind that instead.”

The girl nodded and scampered into the woods.

They went on.

Gil, perhaps because it was all getting real for him, he would be performing
Shakespeare
in front of
people
, had a fairly major freak-out and forgot half the lines in his first scene. Max went out to talk to him, stopping the rehearsal for those few minutes so he could help Gil get his head right.

When Max resumed his spot in the wings to watch the action, Nicola clasped his hand. She was surprised to find him shaking. “Max?”

He swallowed and cast a glance at her. Then his eyes widened. He peered around, staring at her fairy handmaidens, and she finally caught up to what was off. Max was on the wrong side of the stage for his own entrance.

“Shit.” He hung his head and pinched his eyes with his fingers.

The rehearsal had to stop again as he, the
director
, schlepped himself across the stage so he could enter from the correct direction. Nicola cringed on his behalf and watched him pace in the wings on the other side, chewing his nail, digging his fingers into his hair, working himself into a frenzied state.

Crap
. Usually, she was the one who got in her head, messing things up. Like the other day at the school program with
Henry V
. She would have choked if Max hadn’t jumped in to do the lead-in dialogue. Max was always the composed one when they were performing. But he’d never tried to balance directing, being in charge, with being a lead actor as well. Apparently, the week of all-out stress had finally broken him.

Lachlan capered around as Puck in all his feathered finery and delivered Max’s cue line, “‘But, room, fairy! Here comes Oberon.’”

Max entered.

Moth, her fairy handmaiden, then said Nicola’s cue line, “‘And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!’”

Nicola entered.

And Max said, “‘Tarry, rash wanton.’”

Nicola winced.

Violet piped up from the audience. “Sorry, Max. That’s a wrong line. It’s ‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.’”

Max squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth gritted. Nicola’s heart hurt for him. That was only Oberon’s most famous line in the whole play, and Max had forgotten it.
Ouch
.

Muffled groans filtered from the wings. Nicola imagined she could hear the cast morale flat-lining backstage. They were so close to greatness with this thing, with the cast, the sets, the costumes, and especially with Max in charge. She could feel perfection at the tips of her fingers, an inch out of reach.

Dammit, Max, you can do this.
She thought it furiously in his direction as they fumbled their way through the rest of the scene. But he seemed oblivious to her stern looks. He missed a few more lines, forgot important props, and he forgot all the kissing they’d blocked. He was like a doll, going through the motions of the scene but injecting no life into it.

What can I do?
The thought turned over and over in her mind until she was in danger of screwing up her Titania performance. Finally, it was her turn to storm offstage, fairy entourage in tow.

As soon as she hit the wings, she whirled around to watch Max. She was supposed to be doing her quick change with Tierney into the night dress, but Max was more important. He and Lachlan were finishing the scene together. Max was still wooden, worried.

Not good. What would Max do? Whenever she’d been freaked during
R&J
,
he’d always come up with something to snap her out of it. A funny face. A lewd joke. The infamous mooning incident.
What can I do
—

She froze, her stomach swooping. She stared at the other actors gathered in the wings, her fairy court, the stagehands. Quite a lot of people. A
lot
. Of
people
.

Max dropped another piece of dialogue and ran into Lachlan when he crossed the wrong way onstage.

Nicola firmed her lips and gathered the hem of her skirt in her hands.
Screw dignity. This one’s for you, Maxim
.

She tiptoed to the edge of the wings, on the brink of being seen by the audience—if there had been more of an audience than Violet and the sound guy.

Max’s head snapped over, seeing her move. He frowned.

Maxim!
she mouthed.

Staring at her while Lachlan performed, Max raised an eyebrow.
What?
his look said.

Watch this
. Nicola held his gaze for one long moment, then, without preamble, she turned around, lifted her skirt, and flashed him her naked ass.

She gave it a small wiggle for good measure.

* * *

M
ax blinked
.
Did she—was that
—

He glanced over to see Lachlan standing there with his mouth hanging open, his eyes bulging.

Max restrained a grin. Yeah, she did.
How I love her
. Grinning, deep in character as Oberon, he snapped his fingers under Lachlan’s face and gave him a shove to the shoulder for good measure. “‘Seek through this grove: A sweet Athenian lady is in love with a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes. But do it when the next thing he espies may be the lady.’” Max passed the purple prop flower to Lachlan.

Lachlan, back in character as Puck, bowed. “‘Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.’”

Oberon exited one way, in the direction Titania had gone. Puck went the other way.

Max met Nicola in the wings, his cheeks hurting from the force of his smile. Somewhere between mooning him and now, she’d found the time to do her quick change. She wore the evening dress, and the firefly lights flirted with him from her hair.

“Max, I
had
to,” she whispered. “You were all in your head, like I get. That was the only thing I could—”

He caught her by the shoulders and lifted her off her feet, giving her a sound kiss on the mouth, sweeping his tongue into her sweetness, tasting her, loving her.

The cast members nearest to them uttered muted whoops and catcalls.

Max set her on her feet. She blinked at him, dazed and beaming with a languid warmth.

“And enter Titania!” Violet called from out in the house.

“They’re singing your song, Nicci,” he said.

Nicola still grinned at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled from the kiss, her lips pink and parted on a breathless gasp.

Oh, how I love her
.

“En-
ter
. Ti-
tan-
ia,” Violet hollered again.

Max jerked from the force of that thought.
I love her?

“Oh crap.” Nicola hurried forward, her fairy handmaidens streaming past her, dancing and capering.

“
Titania?
” Violet wailed.

Max knew he should let Nicola go, he was The Director. Instead, he caught her by the wrist, keeping her back from the stage. He held her gaze, staring into her expressive brown eyes.
I love her
. His heart was thumping so hard, he thought he might puke. He swallowed. Wet his lips. Traced his thumb over her pulse point. He opened his mouth, tried to shape the words
. I love you. I’ve always loved you
. But in the end, all he could do was gaze at her.

She blinked, and her nostrils flared with some strong emotion as if she could read his thoughts. “Max?”

A tangled ball of emotion rolled under his sternum and lodged there, rigid and painful.

“
TITANIA!
”

“Sorry,” he said. “Go.”

Nicola bobbed on her feet for a moment, uncertain. Then she skipped onstage, floating into the character of Titania. She didn’t look back at him.

Max dropped his face into his hands and rubbed the skin hard. “
Fuck
.”

* * *

“
A
re you all right
?”

Rehearsal had finished. They had managed to make it all the way through
Midsummer
, lights, sounds, costumes and all before they had to wrap. Nicola thought everything had gone well, but Max had been odd ever since she’d mooned him. He’d done all right as Oberon, but offstage he’d been distracted, absent. Now they were alone in his car, parked in the Bunkhouse’s massive carport, and yet not getting out of the car to go inside. “Max, are you all right?” she said again.

“What?”

She cupped his cheek, fanning her thumb through the scruff of his beard. “Let’s get some dinner in you and go to bed.”

“I’m really not hungry.” He caught her fingertips and brushed them over his lips.

“Bed, then?”

“Bed.”

They walked into the house together, hand in hand, and a sense of absolute rightness spread through her. “Where did Lachlan and Peter get to?” she asked as they walked upstairs.

“Lach and Peter went out to celebrate their ‘new project’ together. Abe is with the boyfriend tonight.”

“The house is all ours?”

“Yup.”

“Wanna go skinny-dipping?”

His foot paused between one step and the next, and an odd, sad smile crossed his face. “Maybe in a bit.”

“All right.”

He led her into the bedroom, still with that odd, melancholy mood hanging between them. She jiggled his hand to get him to look at her. “Maxim, what’s wrong?”

“Need to talk to you.”

“That’s ominous.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” He drew in a deep breath. “Nic—”

Her phone cut him off, jangling in her rehearsal bag. “Money Money.” Willa’s ringtone. “It’s my agent.”

“Nicola, this is important.”

“Two seconds.” Mouth dry, she fished the phone out and held it to her ear. “Hi, Willa.”

“Nic, why haven’t you called me?”

“I’m sorry. It’s tech week and I lost track of stuff. I know you need an answer—”

“Honey, have I got news for you,” Willa’s voice bubbled so crazily with excitement, Nicola was surprised her phone didn’t vibrate from the force of it.

“What news?”

“The
Anything Goes
producers called. The girl playing Hope
and
her understudy were in a car accident.”

“Oh no.”

“They’re fine, but anyway, they’re
both
out for who knows how long, and the producers still want
you
. Only now they want you for Hope Harcourt. You’ll be
playing
Hope
on the national tour.”