Method Acting: An opposites attract, found family romance (Center Stage Book 2) Adele Buck (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

“I don’t usually end conversations so effectively,” he said.

Alicia’s ears grew hot. “No, I’m sorry. I…just didn’t know what to say.”

He leaned forward. “Are you apologizing for a second time?”

Thinking she could detect a glint of humor lurking in his eyes, Alicia relaxed a little, the awkwardness of the moment fading. “No, I expressed condolences with one sorry and was apologizing for being awkward with the second. Two totally different things. Completely.”

Colin nodded. “For someone who claims to be awkward, you’re terrifyingly quick.”

Alicia smiled, and Colin felt his own shoulders ease. He appeared to be doing a damn good job of trying to scare her away, even though that was the last thing he wanted right now. Her looks drew his eye, but her prickly intelligence held an even stronger appeal. As an added bonus, she was so different from Tressa. His mind strayed to the empty seat next to him in the theater. This was the only event that had mattered to him in what had seemed like a never-ending calendar of activities–all part of Tressa’s quest to make them Washington’s next hot power couple. Tressa would have been disappointed this evening. Only one photographer circulated among the attendees, and he probably worked for the theater. A snap of her in a Folger fundraising e-mail would never have enough social cachet for Tressa Lloyd-Hudson.

Thank God that was over.

“So, Mr. St. Cyr. What or who do you lobby for, anyway?”

“Education. STEM. Science, Technology, Engineering—”

“—And Math. Nice.” Her smile was the most open and genuine he had yet seen from her, and her approval washed over him in a pleasurable wave.

“All right,” he said, “let’s shift to different ground. How did you become an actress?”

“Here’s where I’m supposed to say because I was driven to create great art or something,” she said, brown eyes twinkling with humor.

“But?”

She shrugged. “Truth is, I just always wanted to. I just can’t think of anything else I’d rather do,” she said. “Except maybe sing and dance.”

“And you…” Colin hesitated, wondering if he would be offending her. Again. “…Can’t sing and dance?”

She shot him a sly, sidelong smile. “Oh, no. I can. There’s just not as much call for that in most Shakespeare productions. At least not in the tragedies. The Folger apparently does a lot of classic plays with original music these days, but mostly comedies.”

“I’ve enjoyed those quite a bit. But I gather I’ve never seen you in one.”

“No. I’m based in New York.”

“Multitalented,” he said, unable to keep from smiling at her. “And do you keep your hand—or your voice—in while you’re here?”

“Well, I would normally be singing at Club Zanzibar on a Sunday night, but…duty called.” She angled the champagne glass, indicating the long, paneled hall and the well-dressed crowd. Her eyes roamed over the barrel ceiling with its plaster ornamentation and returned to him. “Which, all things being equal, not a bad trade.”

Colin wondered if she was talking about the event, the room, or him. Perhaps all three. He was surprised to realize he hoped she was talking about him, as little as he believed she would be, given their strange discussion.

“Well, I for one am glad that you are here,” Colin said. “What kind of music do you sing at Club Zanzibar?”

“Jazz standards, mostly. Some show tunes. Some pop. It varies. Whatever Pat and I feel like doing on any given evening.”

“And Pat—he’s your…collaborator? Agent? I don’t know how this works.”

“She. She’s my accompanist. Piano.”

“Ah.” Colin felt off balance. Every time he thought he was assembling a settled picture of this woman, another detail would land that shifted the image. Unease pooled in his belly. A speculative smile was playing at the corners of her mouth. She seemed to enjoy him always being on the back foot, never able to find his balance. She was like mercury: impossible to pin down.

He wondered if she was as toxic as well.

Alicia registered a tiny shift in Colin’s expression. She wasn’t sure she could put a name to it, but she didn’t like it. A slight shuttering of the eyes, a minuscule angling away where formerly he had leaned toward her. His smile turned polite and cool and she thought she could put her finger on the reaction.

He didn’t trust her. And for no reason that she could discern from the content of their conversation, which, as far as she could tell, was completely commonplace. A bit teasing, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Well fuck that noise.

Her own smile going tight and artificial, Alicia drained her champagne glass, looking past Colin in the direction of the gift shop. Focusing on Kathleen, the woman who played Lady Capulet, she willed the other woman to look at her. Kathleen, seeming to feel the weight of Alicia’s gaze, glanced up. Alicia fingered an earring and Kathleen smiled, gesturing for her to come over. Alicia returned her attention to Colin. His disapproval now seemed to radiate from every pore.

To hell with it.

“Mr. St. Cyr, I do hope you enjoyed the show. I’m being called over by my castmate, so if you will please excuse me…”

Colin inclined his head in a gesture that was almost a bow. For a moment, Alicia wondered if she had misread his other reaction. But when he raised his head, his dark eyes were still chilly and distant.

Fine. Take your snobbish attitudes about actors and your fancy-pants accent and shove them up your ass. Alicia turned away, trading her empty champagne glass for a full one as she made her way across the floor to Kathleen.

“What’s the problem?” Kathleen asked, frowning at Alicia. Kathleen was tall and slim, with a wide, laughing mouth and a mass of wavy auburn hair. “Gotta say a distress signal from you is surprising enough, but when you were talking to someone that good looking...” She fanned herself with an open palm and then squinted at Alicia. “Was