Command Performance (10 page)

“And today?”

Her heart was pounding in her throat. It was ridiculous. She wasn’t subject to flights of fancy and wide swings of emotion. Meet it head-on, Eve advised herself. Meet it head-on and push it aside. She turned again
and looked at him. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t—” When he reached down to brush the hair from her cheek, the words simply slid away.

“I think you do.”

“No.” She managed to find the strength to shake her head. “That’s impossible.”

“So I’ve told myself.” His fingers tightened on her hair. His eyes weren’t so secretive now. In them she saw need, and felt the longing grow in herself to fulfill it. “It becomes more difficult to accept.”

“Your Highness.” Her hand flew to his wrist when he framed her face. “Alex, please, this isn’t right.”

“The hell with right.”

He took her then, mouth, soul and heart, as the salt-scented breeze billowed at the curtains. Her hands were still at his wrists, her fingers clamping harder and harder, whether in denial or acceptance neither of them knew.

He’d wanted, needed, yearned for the passion and spirit that were so much a part of her. He’d craved the softness and sweetness that offset the rest. If it was wrong, if it was impossible, he’d fight his way through the obstacles. He’d known, the moment he’d seen her again, that he had no choice.

How could she deny what was happening to her? She wasn’t a woman who lied to herself, who refused to see her own flaws. Desire, hot and liquid, ruled her thoughts. And it was Alexander, heir to the throne, whom she wanted. Desperately, she realized. Uncontrollably. Even as she tried to reason it out, her body was pulsing with more needs.

To be his, she thought as she released his wrist to comb her fingers through his hair. To be his would be everything.

He was edging toward madness. She was so smooth, so warm. The fire was licking at him, what was his, what had come from her. If he didn’t bank it now, it would overwhelm both of them. He couldn’t allow it to happen this way, not now, not here. Alexander drew her away, swore, then kissed her again until she went limp in his arms.

“You’ll have to choose.” His voice wasn’t steady, but he drew her head back and kept his eyes on hers. “And you’ll have to choose soon.”

She ran a hand that trembled over her face. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t intend to lose.” He had her hair in his hand, holding her still. She wouldn’t have moved in any case. His eyes would have held her. “Understand that. I didn’t apologize for before, and I won’t apologize now.”

He released her, then strode to the door and out.

Alone, Eve eased herself down on the seat like a woman who’d had too much sun or wine. Perhaps she’d had both somehow. His kiss had been both hot and potent. She had to think. With a shaky sigh, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. The trouble was, she didn’t know where to start.

Eve felt secure in the theater, satisfied with the office that had been prepared for her and grateful for the hours per day she would have away from the palace. And Alexander.

She was a professional woman. A businesswoman with her career in full swing and the ultimate success just at the tip of her fingers. Her biggest challenge to date was spread out before her. Nearly a hundred people were depending on her to make decisions, give orders and do things right. She couldn’t afford to spend her nights tossing and turning, trying to figure out a man. She couldn’t daydream about him when there were a million things to be done.

But when he’d kissed her in front of the window with the scent of the sea creeping in around them, it had been no less devastating, no less illuminating than the first time. Need, both sharply physical and deeply emotional, had run through her. Not need for a man, for a lover, for a companion, but for Alexander. She’d wanted him—to make love with her there near the window while the sky and the sea were still a perfect blue.

It wouldn’t have been lovemaking, Eve reminded herself as she pressed fingers against her tired eyes. It would have been sex, plain and simple. She didn’t want that, didn’t need it, and she wasn’t going to think of it anymore.

It was barely two on her first full day in Cordina. Her morning meeting had gone well enough. Alexander had been more his familiar self—distant, businesslike and exacting. That was a man she knew how to deal with. The man who had kissed her the afternoon before, the man who had made her feel weak and strong and desperate all at once—she didn’t know how to deal with him.

He’d been the perfect host to her company the evening before. His charm was on the formal side, but her people had been impressed. In fact, she mused, more than one of her female players had been overly impressed.
She’d have to keep her eyes open. It wouldn’t do to have anyone distracted over the next few weeks. Including her. With that in mind she began checking and cross-checking her lists.

The glamour of theater, she thought wryly as she rubbed the back of her neck. Just how many tubes of makeup had they shipped—and where the hell were they? Then there was the crate of cable that had left Houston just fine, but had never made the transfer in New York. If the airport didn’t call her back by four, she was going to—

“Yes, come in.” Harried, Eve barely glanced up. “Yes, Russ. There can’t be a problem already can there? But wait.” She held up a hand before he could speak. “You and the rest of the troupe aren’t due in until tomorrow, right?”

“Yes to both questions. There is a problem already and I’m not due in—but I couldn’t stay away.” He was a young-looking thirty with a well-built body and a lantern jaw. Eve had liked his looks from the beginning, but had still put him through three readings before she’d signed him. The wavy blond hair and the blue eyes were a plus, but she looked for substance. She’d never have cast him as Brick if she hadn’t found it. When he perched on the edge of her desk, she leaned back and grimaced.

“Tell me the problem first.”

“Lighting director’s having an artistic difference with a twenty K spotlight. Nobody can put his hands on the crate of extra bulbs.”

“I’m surprised anyone can put his hands on anything now. Okay, I’ll see to it in a minute. Tell me why you’re not out soaking up the sun while you have the chance.” She smiled and tucked a pencil behind her ear. “Hasn’t anyone warned you what a slave driver I am? You show up at the theater, you go to work.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” His voice was deep and resonant. Still, she wanted him to practice the lazy drawl of his character until it was second nature. “Look, I don’t want to sound green, but this place …” He lifted his palms a bit dramatically and took in more than her office. “It’s amazing. Being here’s amazing. I can soak up sun anytime. If I can’t rehearse, I can unpack crates.”

“You don’t sound green, you sound psychotic.” With a laugh, she stood. “And I know just what you mean.
Crates, it is. God knows we’ve got plenty of them. Now why don’t we—”

Her door swung open again, this time without a knock. Bennett grinned at her. “They told me I’d find you locked in here and snarling.”

“I’m not snarling. Yet.” She got up immediately and opened her arms for a hug. “Prince Bennett, Russ Talbot.”

Russ hesitated between offering a hand, bowing or standing still. “I’m never sure how to greet princes.”

“We say hello,” Bennett told him. “I hated missing the dinner last night and meeting your troupe.”

“What you missed was seeing how many pretty actresses you could flirt with.” Eve picked up her clipboard.

“There’s that.” He shot his grin at Russ. “Are there many?”

“Enough.”

“I knew I could count on Eve. In any case, I’ve come to take you away from all this.”

“Fine.” She looked up from her notations. “Come back in two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Better make it three,” she corrected after a glance at her clipboard.

“Eve, you’ll wear yourself out.”

“Wear myself out?” Laughing, she nudged him out into the hall with her. “I haven’t even started yet. I could use the lift, though, if it’s not putting you out. Say”—she looked at her watch—“five-thirty?”

“All right if—”

“Unless you’d like to stay. We’re about to uncrate boxes.”

“I’ll be back.” He gave her a quick kiss before he started down the corridor. “Nice meeting you, Talbot.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen royalty get the bum’s rush.”

Eve sent Russ a smile. “Much as I love him, he’d be in the way.”

“Not much like his brother,” Russ commented.

“Ben?” Eve shook her head as they walked in the opposite direction. “No. No, he’s not.”

“Gets a lot of press.”

She couldn’t prevent the chuckle. “Bennett would tell you it’s all true.”

“Is it?”

She glanced at him. Her voice cooled a bit. “Possibly.”

“Sorry.” Russ dipped his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just—well, it’s interesting, and I’m as susceptible as anyone. It’s weird you being so tight with them. We didn’t have many royal highnesses in Montclair, New Jersey.”

“They’re just people.” She stopped at the door to one of the storerooms. “No, of course they’re not. But they are people, and nice ones. You’ll see that for yourself in the next few weeks.”

Then she opened the door, stepped back and moaned. Russ peered in around her shoulder at the stacks of trunks and crates. “Looks like we could use some help.”

“You go call out the marines,” Eve told him, and pushed up her sleeves. “I’ll get started.”

* * *

Within three hours Eve had the beginnings of order and a long list of things to be done. With the help of Russ and a couple of stagehands, the crates were uncarted or stacked for storage until their contents were needed. She worked methodically, as was her style, and lifted and grunted as much as the men who worked with her. After twenty minutes, Russ had stopped telling her not to lift that, not to shove this. She was, he’d discovered, as strong as the rest of them.

By five she was sweaty, smudged and ruffled, but far from displeased.

“Russ, go home.” She leaned against one of the crates and wished fleetingly for something long and cool.

“What about you?”

“I’ve nearly done all I can for the moment, and I don’t want my actors too exhausted to rehearse.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’ve been a big help. The rest of this is really up to me and the
crew.”

He dried the sweat on his face with a sleeve before giving her a look of amused admiration. “I don’t know many producers who get their hands dirty.”

Eve turned her palms up and wrinkled her nose at the smears of dust. “Apparently this producer does. Ten o’clock call tomorrow. Be fresh.”

“Yes, ma’am. Any messages for the rest of the troupe?”

“The same. Tell them to enjoy the evening, but any hangovers tomorrow morning won’t be sympathized with.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t work too hard.”

She glanced around as he left the storeroom. “Tell me about it.” Hands on hips, she decided she’d done about all the damage she could do for one day. Putting her back into it, she scooted one last box of bulbs into a corner. At the sound behind her, she dug into the pockets of her sweats and pulled out a set of keys.

“Give these to Gary, will you? He’ll need to get in here first thing tomorrow.” Without looking, she chucked the keys.

“I’d be happy to oblige if I knew who Gary was and where to find him.”

“Oh.” Still stooped, she looked up at Alex. His light sweater and slacks were spotless, his hair unruffled and his shoes shined. She felt like a dustrag. “I thought you were one of the stagehands.”

“No.” When she straightened, he tossed the keys back to her. “Eve, have you been in here shoving at these crates?”

“I’ve been unpacking and, uh …” She linked her filthy hands behind her back. “Organizing.”

“And moving things entirely too heavy to be moved by a woman.”

“Now just a minute—”

“Let’s say too heavy to be moved by someone of your size and build.”

The rephrasing mollified only because her back ached. “I had help.”

“Apparently not enough. If you need more, you’ve only to ask.”

“We can manage, thanks. The worst of it’s done.” She attempted to clean off her hands on the front of her sweats. “I didn’t realize you were coming in today. Was there something we left out this morning?”

He came farther into the room. She stood with her hands behind her back and her back against a crate. “We have no business to discuss.”

“Well, then.” She caught herself moistening her lips. “I’d better get these keys to Gary and clean up before Bennett gets here.” She started forward, but he stood in her way.

“Bennett was detained. I’ve come to take you home.”

“That wasn’t necessary.” She moved to the side as he stepped forward. “I told Ben I’d take the lift if it was convenient.” He moved again, and she evaded. “I don’t expect to be driven around while I’m here. Renting a car’s simple enough.”

She smelled like hot honey baked in the sun and waiting to be sampled. “Do you object to driving with me?”

“No, of course not.” She rapped her heel on a crate, then stood her ground. “You’re stalking me.”

“It would seem so.” He ran a fingertip down her cheek, and was pleased to detect the slightest tremor. “You’re filthy.”

“Yes. I do have to clean up, so if you don’t want to wait, I can catch a ride with— A cab. I can take a cab.”

“I can wait. It’s amazing that you manage to be beautiful even under all that dirt. Beautiful.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips. “Desirable.”

“Alex. Alexander. I don’t know why you’re … It’s difficult to understand why …”

His hand curled loosely around her neck.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Try to seduce me.”

“I don’t intend merely to try.”

“This is ridiculous.” But when she tried to shift away, he blocked her again. “You don’t even like me,
really, and I—well I’ve always …” His eyes were so dark, dark, amused and as hypnotic as the view from her window. “That is, I’ve always thought that …”

“I don’t recall that you stuttered before.”