Let’s Fall In Love

Chapter One-2

So far his mother had avoided open warfare and he’d been able to counter her attempts to maneuver him into proximity with her choice of bride. She’d upped her game the last few months. Felicity St. Simmons was at his parents’ house more than he was. He’d visited less. Since he wouldn’t come to the mother, the mother had come to him. He wondered if she’d come trailing Felicity. Damn, he hoped not.

He liked Felicity as a person, might have considered her a friend, if…

He would not be ruled by his mother.

He could tell from her tone his dad was on the other end. No sign of Felicity. Yet.

Harriet ended her call with her customary cool. A hint of warm softened her gaze as she turned and studied him.

“Dominic.” There was reproof in her tone.

“Mother.” He gave in, went and pressed a brief kiss on the cheek she presented.

It was so old-school, he had to hide a grin. She’d have done well on the stage. He didn’t say it. He’d only made that mistake once. Anything to do with the theater or acting was not to be mentioned around his mother. He thought about his date on Friday and decided she’d held her grudge against the business for long enough.

She made a show of looking at her watch. “We’re meeting Felicity in half an hour—”

“You should have called me. You’d know I’m not available.” The words were polite, but there was message in them. One she did not want to hear.

“I’m sure you could alter—”

“Give Felicity my regards.” He looked at his watch. “Do you have time to tell me how dad is doing? Or do you have to go?”

Her lips tightened. If she pushed it—but she didn’t. She was infuriating, but not stupid. For now they played a game, chess, he decided, her move, his counter. How far was she willing to go, he wondered. Since he’d turned eighteen and she could no longer legally compel him to behave, she’d been losing this battle of wills. And yet here she was, trying again. Stubborn didn’t begin to explain it. He didn’t like playing games with his mother. Lexie, however…

He gave a mental shake. Later. Or perhaps not…

Lexie fit the key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door open with her shoulder. Shower sounds from the bathroom told her Lucas was home. A rare occurrence as opening night approached. She dumped her briefcase by the door, dropped her keys in the bowl on the side table and kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. There was no question that the corporate world had a downside. Her dad’s office was a little less high gloss—just more high maintenance. Hard to believe, because Nic was not easy, but he was lower maintenance than her family.

The shower shut off as she reached her bedroom door. She picked up the pace, hoping to avoid him for long enough to figure out what she felt about Nic and Friday. Lucas wouldn’t pick up on everything, because he was a guy, but as her twin he did tend to pick up on her feelings when she didn’t want him to. And even if he didn’t tune into her unease about Nic—well, he’d been upping the pressure as opening night approached.

Her feelings about It’s Complicated were, well, complicated. Rather like her feelings for Nic…

Lexie stripped off her corporate clothes, exchanging them for casual, then headed for the kitchen. If Lucas hadn’t brought home something to eat, then she’d have a bowl of cereal and try to sleep. Lucas had beat her to the kitchen and he was already digging into a white box with a pair of chopsticks. More white boxes littered the counter top. The look in his eyes told her another round was incoming. With luck he was so focused on It’s Complicated, he wouldn’t pick up on her Nic disquiet. She made a show of looking at the clock.

“Early night?” She explored the boxes, then picked the sweet and sour chicken. She opted for a fork though, not sure she could manage chopsticks tonight.

He finished chewing, stirring the contents of the box with the chopsticks while he considered what to say. His lids lifted and he frowned. “You all right?”

“I’m not the one trying to direct Lily.” Not to mention occupy the same stage with her. That was also complicated. Would he notice she hadn’t answered his question?

He looked rueful. “She’s tested the line, but toed it so far.” He slanted her a look. “I had a good bargaining chip.”

Lexie directed her attention to her chicken. It’s Complicated had been written for Lily—but as an intellectual exercise. No one was supposed to see it. Ever. Lexie kept a thick wall between PA Lexie and playwright Lexie. It wasn’t a deep dark secret so much as a way for her to relieve her artistic side without going onstage. When she retired from acting at age twelve, Lily had been sure it was a hiatus, while her dad had hoped it meant she’d join him on the production side. Outwardly, Dad had been right. Lexie was a natural in every way except one. Desire. The drama of it, back or center stage, exhausted her. She’d negotiated a year away to think things through. To figure out what she wanted and didn’t want. It’s Complicated had complicated everything.

“It’s in your blood, Lexie,” her dad had told her. “You won’t last six months.”

Of course, he didn’t know she wrote to satisfy the call of her blood. He still didn’t know she’d written It’s Complicated. And she wanted to keep it that way. Even Lucas didn’t know about Lexie’s stage fright, her overwhelming relief when incipient awkward teen-ness had put an end to her acting. She’d been a good actress. Still was, actually. She’d fooled her family. Fooled Nic. Maybe even fooled herself…

This was a different type of stage fright, but it would be worse if the family knew their hopes were riding on a script penned by Lexie. And if the press knew? Made her head ache thinking about it.

“You should have stayed out of my closet,” she said, with a sigh, pushing the chicken aside.

Lucas wanted the press to know. He wanted the publicity they’d get. The business part of her didn’t blame him. A family affair would be publicity gold.

“You shouldn’t have kept your stuff in the closet,” Lucas shot back, unrepentant. “You’re too good.”

“You’re biased.” Every script was the script until it wasn’t. That’s how she’d started writing. Sitting there day after day, listening to everyone analyze and rewrite Lily’s scripts. When her homework was done, she’d started listening to the notes and complaints and seeing if she could “fix” the scripts. It staved off the boredom. Gave her a mental challenge. Then one day a playwright had said in frustration, “You try to write a perfect script.”

So she’d tried. It was hard. Her first few original scripts were far from perfect. But she kept trying. And then she kept writing because she liked the process, the challenge, the change of pace. It was her way to be a part of things without the stage fright. No one ever asked what she was doing. It wasn’t like keeping a secret. If they’d asked and she didn’t say, that would be lying, but not telling was just…not telling.

And then Lucas went digging in her closet. He knew she’d kept Lily’s old scripts, though he hadn’t known why. Lexie had come home and found her secret scattered all over the floor. And an accusing look on Lucas’s face. She’d told him no, but all he heard was she wanted her name kept out of it. He’d agreed, then spent the time trying to change her mind. Since he was her twin, he knew her buttons. She’d taken to avoiding him, but with opening night approaching, that was both easier and harder to accomplish.

“At least let me break the news when the play is a hit.”

He didn’t know that would be worse than if it was a flop, well, not worse, but like worse, just a different kind of worse. It was bad enough when a play opening popped her briefly back up on the press radar. Though the questions had gotten briefer when she never returned to the stage. There’d been some talk about her and Lucas doing a special together, but It’s Complicated had back burnered that. It was the only bright spot from the production, in her opinion.

Lexie poked a piece of chicken, her appetite gone. “I never wanted to be famous.” She looked up. “I still don’t.”

He was silent for a moment. “Is this somehow about your stage fright?”

Her brows shot up. “You knew?”

“I was less clueless when I was a kid.” He frowned, as if considering. “And I think I always had a bit of director in me. I knew it took you a while to relax, to get into the moment. It was only later I wondered why no one else noticed.”

“Maybe Lily did and hoped it would go away.”

“It is her preferred method of problem solving.” He was silent for a few moments while he chewed some food. “Speaking of problems, they’re counting the days until your year is up. Are you coming back?”

It was the first time anyone in the family had acted like she had a choice. She hesitated.

“I miss working with dad,” she temporized. She gave him a wry grin. “Sometimes. But I like this job. A lot.” If she left, other than the extreme pressure from the family, it would be for the stupidity of falling for her boss, not because she wanted to leave. Which brought her back to wondering what Nic was up to? Why had he basically horned his way into her Friday night? If he thought she’d crawl into bed with him, then let him fire her for getting personal—no, he wouldn’t do that. But he might expect to have his cake and eat it. Have the affair and then back to business. He was a guy.

Lexie didn’t do affairs. Ever. Her parents didn’t have to lecture about the downside of casual s*x. Growing up in the business, she’d seen the falling in and out of love, the broken hearts and unplanned pregnancies from the front row. Her parents were the rare exception to what happened around them. They’d been married, stay married against the odds.

“You must be on stage there, too.”

He did get it, she realized, but then as a director he needed to. “It’s different, it’s…cooler. Temperature cool,” she added when his brows shot up. “Not calmer exactly, but without the high drama.” She sat back, staring into their shared past. “It used to exhaust me.”

“Still does.” He leaned in. “I can see why you’d hate the drama of everyone finding out about your secret, but its going to come out sometime. Secrets do. If we control it, we can lessen the impact.”

“You don’t want to lessen it.”

He grinned. “Not at first, but you should write full time, Lex. To my shock, you’re really good.” He shoved his hands into his hair. “I still can’t figure out how the hell none of us noticed.”

If you weren’t bumping egos in her family, you got bumped to the side, but she didn’t say it. She loved them, even when they made her crazy. “I know how to blend into the background,” she said instead.

“Then you should be fine with a big reveal. You can just blend.”

“Luc!” She gave him an exasperated look. “You know it would impact my job.”

“So end it now. Start doing what you should be doing.”

“I have managed to do both,” she felt compelled to point out. She hesitated. “What if I can’t do either if everyone knows?” The crazy thing, she’d loved acting. Had just hated acting in front of people. Or hated acting in front of people who knew she was acting. And now Nic had outed her…it almost felt like her play was stalking her.

That gave Lucas pause. “You think you’ll have page stage fright?”

She shrugged. Tried not to feel panic, but she was a storyteller. She knew when a plot was starting to unravel.

Her cell squawked an incoming text. She looked down. It was from Nic.

I’m downstairs.

It was a relief when the doors of the aging elevator opened and Lexie emerged. She had her ice princess game face on, but when she got close, her eyes weren’t in it. Puzzled warred with anxious in their depths. She wore jeans and a tee, the most casual he’d seen her dressed. He wanted to stop, take the sight of her in but the doorman was watching with open curiosity, so he ushered her outside with a hand to the small of her back.

There was time. He’d make sure of that.