He blinked. “Well, you do pretend to be someone else for a living.”
“Yeah, but everyone knows that acting is an act. Everyone’s in on the supposed ‘lie.’”
“I’m not sure I take your meaning,” he said, feeling uncharacteristically thickheaded.
“Other professions are called upon to lie and are much sneakier about it. But they get to be respectable.”
“Such as?”
“Are you telling me lawyers who defend people they know are guilty aren’t lying in their jobs but might be honest people otherwise? Or do you reserve that sort of judgment for low-class trades like actors?”
Colin closed his eyes briefly as shame washed over him, the shaft hitting far too close to home. “I am so sorry, please…” He reached out a hand, fingertips just brushing her bare arm as she turned away. She looked at his hand, and he removed it. “I am sorry. Truly. That was glib and idiotic. I don’t usually dine out on my own feet. Can we begin again?”
Her gaze lifted to his eyes, her expression sardonic. “Now that would be dishonest, don’t you think?”
He bit his lip, chagrined. “True. I can only say I’m sorry. Again.”
She leaned in, her voice low and confidential. “Here’s a tip from someone who has been a waitress more than I like to think about: Apologize once, people remember the apology. Apologize multiple times, they remember what you had to apologize for.” He waited for her to turn and walk off. After all, that would have been a perfect exit line. But she didn’t move.
Taking a deep breath, Colin nodded. “Fine. I’ll stop apologizing unless—until—I say something stupid again. But please don’t go.”
Alicia’s eyes roamed over his face, and she nodded, one fingertip moving her hair away from her eyes. “Okay.”
“Before I truly took a big bite of my foot, I appeared to nibble on one of my own toes in an attempt to compliment you. Why was that?”
She looked at him for a long moment, still seeming to consider whether or not she wanted to continue the conversation. Her chin came up as she apparently came to a decision. “Beauty is a lot of actresses’ stock in trade. It’s pretty much everything. Until, either suddenly or gradually, it isn’t. It’s gone. It’s temporary and unearned, but something that is frequently valued over talent and work. I’m in my thirties and getting cast in ‘old lady’ roles. The Nurse probably isn’t more than forty to Juliet’s fourteen. Let’s just say that an actress’s relationship to youth and beauty is complicated.”
“I can see how that would be,” he said. “It’s too bad.”
Alicia shrugged, one shoulder lifting as she took a sip of her champagne. “It’s okay. I originally auditioned for the role of Lady Capulet. The Nurse may not be as glamorous, but it’s a much better part. More interesting.”
He looked at her face to see if she was having him on, but her large brown eyes were guileless and clear. God forgive me if I ever thought actresses were shallow. “So, you’re enjoying the role?”
A real smile flooded her face, and warmth expanded in his stomach to see her glow like that. “I am. It doesn’t hurt that I’m told my reviews are good too.”
“You haven’t read them?”
She shook her head. “Never. I ask other actors to give me the gist. It’s something we do for each other. Otherwise, the reviewer’s actual words get stuck in your head. Anyway, enough about me. What do you do?”
Colin took a sip of champagne, delaying the inevitable, even if only for a moment. “I’m a lobbyist.”
Alicia stared at him for a few moments, mouth open.
Susan, you witch. I could almost believe you set this up.
“I know, I know.” He waved one large hand deprecatingly. “I had the cheek to question your honesty based on your career. And yet. Here I am. Used to be a criminal defense barrister in London, so your comment there was spot on the mark.”
Shaking her head at his misunderstanding of her shocked look, Alicia nodded. “I’ll do you the favor of not making the same mistake,” she said. “Though I have to say, in my experience people who are suspicious about other people’s honesty tend to have honesty problems of their own.”
“Would you believe me if I said my automatic suspicions have more to do with living in this bloody town than anything else?”
Alicia shrugged. “I guess I have to believe you. I already said I wasn’t going to suspect your honesty. And I’m enjoying D.C. So far, at least. I haven’t found a lot of reason to distrust it.”
“It has its compensations.” A hint of a warm smile lurked in his eyes.
Alicia felt a small rush of heat zing through her. “Mr. St. Cyr, are you flirting with me?”
He laughed outright at that. “Forgive me for ever believing you were less than one hundred percent straightforward.”
“We already went over the apologizing once thing,” she said, but she was smiling too. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Forget acting—you would have made an impressive lawyer,” he said. “And yes. I’ve already told you I find you beautiful. It surprises you that I would try to flirt?”
Alicia shrugged again. “Just establishing what’s really going on here.”
“You have very clear boundaries, don’t you?”
You have no idea. “Something like that.” Time to take this in a different direction. Something less personal. “I take it you must be a donor if you’re here today. What led you to give your money away? Love of theater? Love of Shakespeare? A tax deduction?”
“My mother,” he said, his dark eyes solemn.
Alicia blinked. “I don’t follow.”
“She loved Shakespeare. She died a few years ago. My gifts have been in her memory.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She felt the inadequacy of the words, even as she spoke them. So much for taking the conversation in a less personal direction.
A brief, tight smile passed over his face. “Thank you.”
Sipping her drink, Alicia’s eyes
