Method Acting: An opposites attract, found family romance (Center Stage Book 2) Adele Buck (e novels to read .TXT) đ
- Author: Adele Buck
Book online «Method Acting: An opposites attract, found family romance (Center Stage Book 2) Adele Buck (e novels to read .TXT) đ». Author Adele Buck
âItâs nothing like Minneapolis, thatâs for sure.â Aliciaâs jaw clamped down.
What was wrong with her?
Colin didnât miss the sudden tension in Aliciaâs hand just after she mentioned Minneapolis. They turned the corner and started to walk past the Supreme Court building, wide stairs and stern statues directing the way up toward the imposing columns of the highest court in the country. Colin admired how the capitol buildingsâ white stone façades made for beautiful, if ghostly, pictures against the summer night sky.
âSo, you come from the American Midwest,â he said.
The barest pressure of her hand against his arm informed Colin that he had struck a nerve. He was about to say something inconsequential to defuse the moment when Alicia spoke.
âYeah. A Swedish blonde named Johnson. Thereâs only about a zillion of us.â
âAre there?â he said.
âYeah. Minnesota, WisconsinâŠScandinavians are apparently attracted to a place thatâs just as frigid as the places they came from.â
He chuckled. âHave you been to Sweden?â
âNo. Never traveled abroad at all.â
âAre you serious?â He stopped and turned to her.
âAs a heart attack. Donât even have a passport.â Her eyes were clear and without guile.
âOh.â She shot him a sardonic look as they began to walk again, and he felt like a heel. She had told him that she wasnât educated. But she was a Shakespearean actress. How was he to know where her sophistication began or ended?
Then he remembered Russellâs ingenuous questions about Romeo and Juliet. His friendâs education was top notch. And yet, Russell claimed not to âgetâ Shakespeare.
âWhat made you leave England? Iâm guessing England isnât much like D.C., so youâre not like my ancestors.â
He coughed, wondering how much to tell her. âAgain, my mother. When she died, I didnât want to be in England anymore. I needed a fresh start. America is the land of fresh starts. So here I am.â
Entering the bar, Alicia found that she was feeling an emotion she couldnât have predicted.
Sympathy.
Colin seemed so confident. Cultured. Smart. Powerful, even. But he had confessed to something painful. Alicia wondered if he had done it on purpose for some strategic reason. Sliding onto a bar stool, she cut her eyes sideways to look at him. He was raising a confident hand. This was more what she had expected. Someone like him always knew they could get the attention of a bartender. She waited for him to order a gin and tonic, her drink at the club. Thatâs what guys like this did. They noted the first thing you ordered and would order it for you forever, without ever asking if it was what you really wanted. It was like they wanted to fix you in place so you couldnât move, couldnât change, couldnât be a real person.
âWhat would you like?â His large, dark eyes filled her vision, and she was confused for a moment.
Okay. So, scratch that notion, then.
âUm. White wine. Thank you,â she said, choosing at random.
He placed the order, and their drinks came almost immediately, the bartender moving efficiently down the bar to take the next order. Colin tipped his glass to clink against hers. A noisy party of people pushed to the bar beside him and he moved his stool closer, his knee brushing against hers.
âTo our resuscitation of a cultural illiterate. Dear old Russell may never be the same.â The ghost of a mischievous smile hovered at the corners of his lips.
âHear, hear,â she replied, sipping her wine. âHow is it that someone like him, with that much education, has never seen a Shakespeare play, anyway?â
Colin tipped his head, considering. âI think youâre confusing culture with education. Russell was always driven to excel in his field. He specialized. His education was intensive and good, but not broad.â He took a sip of his whiskey and set it back down on the bar.
âAnd what about you?â
âWhat about me?â
âWhat was your education like?â Alicia felt like she was walking a tightrope. This was a conversation that could never be anything more than one-sided. But she was curious.
Colin shrugged. âA decent boarding school, A-levels, Oxford to read law.â
Alicia bit her lip, decided to be the dummy. âWhat do you mean, âreadâ law?â She braced herself for derision.
Colin grimaced. âSorry. I studied law. âMajored in it,â as you would say about your college experiences here. Not a terribly exciting or novel tale.â
âAnd then?â
âThen I was a barrister in London. Then my mother died and IâŠneeded to make a change. I came here to get an L.L.M.âan advanced degree in American law for lawyers from other countriesâand never left. What about you?â
âWhat about me?â Alicia asked, sipping her wine and fixing her gaze past his ear. âYou already know all I have is a high school equivalency.â
Colin waved a hand, seeming to dismiss education as irrelevant. Or something he took for granted. âBut whatâs the rest of your story? Your family?â
Colin wondered what about his seemingly innocuous question made Alicia freeze up. She looked like a cornered rabbit, her brown eyes wide, her mouth a flat line. Slowly, and with what appeared to be an effort, a more relaxed expression softened her features. Colin regarded her, wondering how she managed that kind of control, if it cost her anything.
âI donâtâŠIâm not in touch with my family. At all,â she said finally, placing her wine glass with careful precision on the bar, as if it would fall and shatter if she did not position it just so.
Curiosity shot through Colin, but he restrained his impulse to interrogate her like a witness. Instead, he nodded. âHm. Sometimes I wish I could be estranged from my family. Well, my father. But not even an ocean can do that. He calls at least weekly asking when Iâm moving back to England.â
She relaxed another fraction. âHow long has it been?â
âFive years.â
âAnd are you going back?â
âNo.â
She bit her lip, her eyes scanning his face. âBrothers and sisters?â
âOne
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