Ellen’s stare at Max Blake was frankly disbelieving. Clearly she couldn’t picture the man who stood in front of her with the perfectly tailored cashmere blazer and the artfully tousled curls doing much of anything in Avery, South Dakota, but become irate because he kept losing his cell phone coverage.
Meg, on the other hand, just seemed vaguely amused when her eyes met Niall’s. “Niall, I apologize for not introducing you earlier. Jennifer, Max, meet Niall Chandler.”
When Niall saw Jenny’s eyes lower over her in cool appraisal, she intuitively understood that she and Vic had once been lovers.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Niall said. “I’ve always admired your work.”
“Have you?”
Jenny’s smile looked warm, but wasn’t her tone a little condescending, as if it was considered in poor taste for Niall to mention her celebrity status? Maybe it was just Niall’s insecurities that made it seem that way. It was difficult to stand next to a divine creature like Jennifer Atwood and think of her having shared Vic’s bed and maintain her normal confidence. Niall scoured her memory, trying to recall if there had ever been any mention of the famous actress dating a certain sexy, reclusive, talented playwright, but she came up short. Niall had never been one to follow the entertainment industry too closely.
Jenny’s beauty fascinated her, Niall had to admit. She was almost as tall as Meg and Ellen. Her figure was slender and willowy, perfectly suited to the sophisticated black designer pant suit that she wore with a white silk camisole beneath it. Her breasts filled out the front of her jacket amply without subtracting from the lean, graceful lines of her body. Her dark hair was styled like a 1940s Hollywood film goddess, parted on the side and falling loose and sleekly curled below her shoulders. The eyes that studied Niall speculatively were a striking shade of light brown and amber.
“Well, I suppose we better take our seats,” Jenny said after Niall and Max had exchanged a handshake. “Please tell Vic we’ll be there to celebrate his opening at the party at Mina’s afterward. Max went to school with someone who’s a patron of the Hesse, so he scored us an invite.”
“Just what Vic needs tonight,” Meg muttered under her breath as she watched Max lead Jenny down the stairs.
“Hmmph,” Ellen grunted sourly. Her sharp, light gray eyes looked suspicious as they followed the stunning actress across the theater lobby. “Vic needs her like he needs a daily dose of arsenic.”
From the little that Niall had seen of Jennifer Atwood, she had to agree wholeheartedly.
Still, Meg’s frank expression of worry bothered her. Would the situation warrant concern if what was between Jenny and Vic was a thing of the past?
And was arsenic by any chance addictive in addition to being deadly?
Niall supposed a mother did indeed know best when Vic slid into the empty seat next to her just seconds before the curtain rose. His thick hair stood up haphazardly, as if he’d been raking his fingers through it. He looked harried and rumpled and utterly gorgeous in a well-cut blazer, brown dress pants, and an off-white chambray shirt. His collar was unbuttoned, and Niall spied his pulse beating rapidly at his throat.
He gave Meg a dry glance when she leaned forward and gave him a big sister stare of dark amusement. Ellen just gave him a brisk wave before she turned her full attention to the stage.
“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered as he picked up Niall’s hand and gave her a quick, warm kiss on the back of it.
“It’s okay,” she assured him softly as she squeezed him back in shared excitement. He met her eyes briefly and gave a small grin before he hunched his big body down in the seat, spread his long legs as far as the confining space allowed, and turned his total focus to the production.
Niall turned her attention to the events on the stage as well, but her heart went out to the man next to her. He seemed so tense, so anticipatory. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to put so much of yourself into a creative endeavor and then sit by and watch as months . . . maybe even years . . . of hard work unfolded before your eyes. She was always nervous and proud of the exhibits she planned at the museum, of course. But this was different.
This was like watching an aspect of Vic’s soul brightly illuminated on a public stage.
No wonder he got so worked up, Niall thought in awe at the culmination of the first act. She’d been held spellbound by the scenes between Sissy, the character played by Eileen Moore, and David, who was being played by an actor Niall had frequently seen in supporting roles in films. The dialogue crackled with wit. The sexual tension between the two characters was so taut as to be nearly tangible. But aggression and anger also laced almost every interaction between them, creating a potent, fascinating brew of love, lust, and rage that seemed ready to explode on the stage at any given moment.
It soon became very clear to Niall that the title of the play, Alias X, referred to the identities that people took on in order to shape themselves to their lover’s desires. The X referred not only to an artificial, nameless existence but also to the mysterious, sometimes beautiful, often ugly, unknown depths to which human beings could sink if they sacrificed what was genuine for the sake of another’s love.
Niall felt a little dazed by the intermission. She was glad that Vic took her hand and led her into the noisy lobby, because she needed the guidance.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked solicitously when he turned to face her. “I don’t think they sell Scotch at the concession stand, but I’ve got a bottle in my office. Just happens to be your brand, too.”