The World is a Stage Read Online Free PDF Page B

long-limbed, a woman who looked like she had quite a bit of flexibility in her, if truth and awesomeness be told. She had fairly normal eyebrows once all that face paint was wiped off, her short, dark hair matched by a pair of chunky glasses. Not exactly the beauty her sister was, but he could definitely work with what he saw.
    “I see you made it here safe and sound,” Michael said. He moved toward her cautiously, his arms down at his sides, his smile wide and warm, the same way he’d approach a Rottweiler for the first time. There was no need to invite attack.
    “Um. Yeah. I’m a pretty good driver,” Rachel said. Her eyes widened as she looked him over. “Did you want me to get you another drink?”
    “Oh, no. Not me. I have it on good authority that I smell like the floor of a bar. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
    “O-kay. I guess not.” She drew each syllable out; her brows pulled together as she contemplated him.
    Michael nodded a little, feeling optimistic. There had been no shrieking yet. No insults. Where he was from, that was called progress.
    “You’re a lot different without your stage wear on. Much more human, if you don’t mind my saying. I’ve always found that to be a trait I love in a woman.”
    Her nose wrinkled, and she pushed her glasses up. “That she’s human?”
    “Well, it’s not a deal breaker, but…”
    She laughed. Success. When a woman laughed at his jokes, he was as good as in.
    “So, this Shakespeare stuff… Is it a hobby or a job? It looks like your producer director guy does pretty well for himself.”
    Rachel smiled and leaned against the counter. Her guard slipped down, and Michael found that relaxation suited her. It usually did. Women had no idea how much more attractive they were once they stopped thinking so much and let themselves just be .
    No one would ever accuse Michael of putting on a show for the opposite sex. He was what he was, no questions asked, no apologies offered.
    “Who? Dominic?” Rachel asked. “I think he comes mostly from family money. He used to be a professor over at the university, but I think he got fired for taking up with his students. If you ask me, the Shakespeare After Dark stuff is his way to rub it in all those academic faces. It’s a funny story. I actually met Dominic a few years ago at a benefit luncheon—”
    Michael nodded in all the right places, asked the questions that were expected of him and strove to be as pleasant as possible. Now that Rachel wasn’t railing at him as though he were the boogeyman, she was actually quite chatty. A lot chatty, actually—Michael felt like he should have been taking notes. Iambic pentameter was why they all sounded so funny up there on the stage. The best way to repair a run in a pair of nylons was with clear nail polish. Rachel hated goats but loved feta cheese.
    She was definitely more of a talker than a listener, which suited his purposes just fine. Michael’s job had been made very clear—keep Rachel occupied and happy for the duration of the party. Talking occupied her, and more than one smile had crossed her face in the last fifteen minutes. He was doing a damn fine job, if you asked him.  
    Hell, if things kept going this well, he might even ask her out on a regular date.
    “So, is this party the end of the road for you, or did you want to maybe go grab a bite somewhere?” Michael asked.
    “You certainly don’t waste any time, do you?” They were interrupted by a redheaded woman standing at Michael’s elbow.  
    Redhead was the only way to describe her—she wore her hair color like a flag tucked into her back pocket. Long, deep red strands reached toward her midback, and he would have sworn she wore a tight white T-shirt and white pants just to emphasize the hair. She had almost no makeup on, but her skin was clear and smooth, her lashes and brows a shade darker than her bright locks. Her mouth was a bit wide but perfectly in keeping with her