by Nora Roberts
“I don’t know what I’d do without mine. Those few months that I couldn’t remember them, couldn’t remember anything …” Gabriella trailed off with a shake of her head. “It’s taught me to take nothing for granted. Well.” She drew a deep breath and looked around. “What would you like to see first?”
“Let’s take the backstage area—dressing rooms, fly. I’ll take a look at the light board. If things don’t work back here, it doesn’t matter how good you are out front.”
“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“Let’s hope so.”
They spent over an hour backstage. Eve climbed stairs, squeezed into storerooms, examined equipment. It was, as she’d hoped, top rate. The Fine Arts Center was a family affair, built in the name of Gabriella’s mother. The Bissets had poured their love for her into making it one of the best theater complexes in the world.
Eve felt the excitement growing. To play here would top anything she or the company had ever done. Already her mind was leaping forward. She would produce four typically American plays for an international audience. The company publicist would have a field day with promotion. Tennessee Williams, Neil Simon, Arthur Miller. She had such a wealth of talent to choose from. And she’d want her own technicians on the lights, on the ropes, on the props.
“I can see the wheels turning,” Gabriella murmured.
“I’ve never been subtle.” Eve walked out, stood stage center and let herself feel.
It was incredible, the sensations, the vibrations that hung in the air of an empty theater. This one had been designed for the actor. She could almost smell the greasepaint and the sweat. The seats rolled forward, slashed through by three wide aisles that were carpeted in royal blue. The houselights were enormous chandeliers and the ceilings were frescoed. Box seats tilted out of the walls on either side and straight back was a balcony. Even from the distance she could see the railings were hand carved and gleaming. More important, every seat in the house would have an unobstructed view of the stage.
“‘Tonight, it ends here, miserably. Whatever we’ve done, whatever we’ve attempted to do, no longer matters. When tomorrow comes, it begins again, and we—we will never have existed.’”
Her voice flowed out, back to the corners, up to the last row of the balcony, then echoed back. Satisfied, Eve smiled.
“Wonderful.” She turned back to Brie. “Whoever your architect was, he deserves a medal.”
“I’ll suggest it to my father. Eve, what was that from? I don’t recognize it.”
“You wouldn’t. Struggling playwright.” She passed it off quickly, not wanting to say the struggling playwright was herself. “Brie, the theater’s wonderful. Another time I’d love to do something on that smaller stage downstairs. Something intimate. But for our purposes, this is perfect.”
“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.” Gabriella’s heels clicked as she crossed the stage to Eve. “Ever since Alex and I kicked the idea around, I’ve been waiting for that. Eve, we’re going to do something important, for your company, for our countries, for the children.”
“I’m only going to put on some plays,” Eve corrected, squeezing Gabriella’s hand. “I’ll leave the higher causes to you and Alex. But if we can get the details ironed out, the contracts, and the legalities of it, you’re going to see four terrific productions.”
“I’m counting on it.”
She took one last glance around the stage. She would never perform here, but her company would. One day, maybe one day, one of her own plays would be acted here. She nearly laughed at herself for the fantasy. “Then I’d better get back home and start working.”
“Oh, no, we’re not letting you go so quickly. I’ve already planned a family dinner at the farm. Tomorrow night. Now …” She hooked her arm through Eve’s. “I want you to go back and be lazy for the rest of the day. Once we put you to work, you won’t have another opportunity.”
“Is that a royal command?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll just have to suffer through it.”
* * *
It wasn’t so hard. Eve discovered that lounging by the pool while a balmy Mediterranean breeze ruffled the palm fronds overhead wasn’t such a tough job. In her youth she’d done a lot of lounging. Vegetating, Eve corrected. It amazed her that she had been content to do nothing for such long periods of time. Not that there was anything wrong with doing nothing, she added as she adjusted her chaise one more notch back. It was just a pity to make a career out of it.
She nearly had. Affluence, privilege. It had made it so easy to sit and let others do. She might have continued in just that vein if she hadn’t discovered the theater. It had given her something to start at the bottom in, something to work toward. Something Daddy, bless him, couldn’t wrangle for her. She could either act or she couldn’t. Eve had discovered she could. But it hadn’t been stage center where she’d found her niche.
Theater had opened up worlds for her, worlds inside herself. She was competent; she was shrewd; she was blessed with organizational talents she’d never used during her education. Conceiving her own company, bringing it to life, had sharpened all those skills. It had also taught her how to take risks, work hard, and mostly, how to be dependable. There were people relying on her for their art and for their living. The responsibility had turned a spoiled young girl into a dedicated woman.
Now she was being given the opportunity to reap rewards even she hadn’t dreamed of. International recognition for her company. All she had to do was select the right material, produce four plays, handle four sets of wardrobe, four sets of props, four sets of scenery. In the meantime she had to deal with lawyers, directors, transportation, seventy-odd actors and technicians. And a prince.
Eve pushed her sunglasses farther up on her nose and sighed. What was life without a few challenges?
* * *
He shouldn’t have come out. One look at his watch told Alexander he had an appointment in twenty minutes. He had no business going out to the pool when he should have been in his office, preparing for the meeting with the minister of state. He should have known better than to ask, however casually, if Miss Hamilton had returned from the center. He should have known better than to think he could have gone up to his office and concentrated once he knew she was out at the pool.
She looked as though she were sleeping. The brief red bikini stretched low over her hips, rose high at the thighs. She’d untied the straps to the top so that it stayed in place only because of her prone position. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but she made no movement at all when he approached.
He looked his fill. Her skin was glistening with the oil she’d applied to every exposed area. Its scent rose exotically to compete with the flowers. Her hair curled damp and dark around her face, showing him she hadn’t sat idly, but had used the pool. Stepping closer, he saw her eyes flutter open beneath the amber-tinted lenses.
“You should take more care. You’re not accustomed to our Mediterranean sun.”
She lay almost flat on her back, staring up at him. He blocked the sun now, so that it glowed like a nimbus around his head. She blinked, trying to clear her vision and her brain. Damsels in distress and dragons. She thought of them again, though he looked more like a god than a prince.
“I thought you were out.” She propped herself up on her elbow before she remembered her bikini. As it slipped, she grabbed for it with one hand and swore. He simply stood there while she struggled with the ties and what was left of her modesty.
“I was out. Your skin’s very white, Eve. You’ll burn quickly.”
It occurred to her that protocol demanded she rise and curtsy. Protocol aside, a curtsy in a bikini wasn’t practical. She stayed as she was. “I’ve slathered on a pint of sunscreen, and I wasn’t intending to stay out much longer. Besides, living in Houston toughens the skin.”
“It hasn’t appeared to.” Minister of state or not, Alexander pulled a chair up and sat. “Y
ou’ve been to the center?”
“Yes. You and your family are to be congratulated. It’s wonderful.”
“Then you’ll agree to have your company perform?”
“I’ll agree to negotiate a contract.” Eve pulled the back of her chaise up so that she could settle into a sitting position. “The facilities are first-class. If we can iron out the details, we’ll both have what we want.”
“Such details are for lawyers and accountants,” he said in dismissal. “We need only agree on what is to be done.”
Though she thought her father would have been amused by his attitude toward accountants, she folded her hands. “We’ll agree after the lawyers and accountants have had their say.”
“It appears you’ve become a businesswoman.”
“It doesn’t just appear, I have. Don’t you approve of women in business, Your Highness?”
“Cordina is a forward-looking country. We don’t approve or disapprove on the basis of gender.”
“The royal ‘we,’” she murmured under her breath. “I’m sure that’s very progressive. Aren’t you roasting in that jacket?”
“There’s a breeze.”
“Don’t you ever unbutton your collar or take off your shoes?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. You’re too literal.” She lifted a glass filled with citrus punch from the table beside her. The ice had melted, but it was still refreshing. “Do you ever use the pool, Your Highness?”
“When time permits.”
“Ever hear the American saying about all work and no play?”
He sat coolly in the baking sun, the gold-and-ruby ring on his finger glinting. His eyes were shadowed. “I believe I have.”
“But it doesn’t apply to princes?”
“I apologize for not being able to entertain you.”
“I don’t need entertainment.” Frustrated, she rose. When he stood, she spun on him. “Oh sit, will you? It’s only the two of us. Don’t you think women get tired of having a man pop up everytime they do?”
Alexander settled again, surprised to find himself amused. “No.”
“Well, they do. It might do you some good to spend more time in America, learning how to unbend.”
“I’m not in a position to unbend,” he said quietly and Eve felt her temper ease away.
“All right, though I can’t understand why that’s true with a friend of the family. You’ll have to excuse me, Your Highness. I’ve little patience with unnecessary formality.”
“Then why don’t you ever call me by my name?” His question had her turning to face him again, frowning and uncomfortable. “You said yourself, we’ve known each other for years.”
“I was wrong.” She said it slowly, sensing something under the surface. “We don’t know each other at all.”
“You have no trouble addressing the other members of my family by their names rather than their titles.”
She wished for her drink again, but found herself unable to cross near him to get it. “No, I don’t.”
“It causes me to ask myself why.” With his eyes on hers, he rose and walked to her. When they were close, face-to-face, he stopped, but kept his hands at his side. “Or perhaps I should ask you why.”
“It never seemed appropriate, that’s all.”
Nerves? He’d never seen nerves in her before. Intrigued, he stepped closer. “Have I been unfriendly?”
“Yes—no.” She caught herself taking a step back.
“Which is it?”
“No.” She stood firm and called herself a fool. “You’re always polite, Your Highness. I know you’ve never approved of me, but—”
“I’ve given that impression?”
He was closer again. She hadn’t even seen him move. Eve fell back on the only defense at hand. Belligerence. “Loud and clear.”
“Then I should apologize.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Eve wondered why she should hear thunder when the sky was so clear.
“Don’t be charming.” She tried to tug her hand away and found it firmly caught.
His smile was as unexpected as the kiss on her fingers, and just as weakening. Yes, she was nervous. He found the unforeseen vulnerability irresistible. “You prefer rudeness?”
“I prefer the expected.”
“So do I.” Something came and went in his eyes quickly. If it was a challenge, she promised herself it was one she would never answer. “It isn’t always there. And from time to time, the unexpected is more interesting.”
“Interesting for some, uncomfortable for others.”
His smile deepened. She saw for the first time a small dimple at the side of his mouth. For some reason her gaze seemed locked to it. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Eve?”
“I didn’t say that.” She tore her gaze from his mouth, but found meeting his eyes wasn’t any less unnerving.
“Your face is flushed,” he murmured, and stroked a thumb along her cheek.
“It’s the heat,” she managed, then felt her knees tremble when his gaze locked on hers.
“I believe you’re right.” He felt it, too, sizzling in the air, crackling, like an electric storm over the sea. “The wise thing for both of us is to cool off.”
“Yes. I have to change. I told Bennett I’d go down to the stables with him before dinner.”
Alexander withdrew immediately. Whatever she thought she had seen in his face, in his eyes, was gone. “I’ll let you go, then. The French ambassador and his wife will be joining us for dinner.”
“I’ll try not to slurp my soup.”
Temper, always close to the surface, came into his eyes. “Are you making fun of me, Eve, or yourself?”
“Both.”
“Don’t stay in the sun much longer.” He turned and didn’t look back.
Eve watched him stride away in his strong, military gait. She shivered once, then shut her eyes and dove headlong into the pool.
* * *
Eve was relieved to find not only Bennett but Brie and Reeve joining them at dinner. Seated between the ambassador and Reeve, she found herself saved from having to make the obligatory dinner conversation with Alexander. As heir, he sat at the head of the table, flanked by his sister on one side and the ambassador’s wife on the other.
The dinner was formal but not, as Eve had feared, unbearably boring. The ambassador had a wealth of anecdotes, any of which he would expound on given the least encouragement. Eve laughed with him, urged him on, then delighted him by carrying on a conversation in French. Her years in the Swiss school had stuck, whether she’d wanted them to or not.
“Impressive,” Reeve toasted her when she turned to him with a grin. He’d changed little over the years, she thought. There was a touch of gray at the temples, but that was all. No, she corrected, that wasn’t all. He was more relaxed now. Happiness, it seemed, was its own fountain of youth.
“How’s your French coming?”
“It isn’t.” He toyed with the rich duck in its delicate sauce and thought how much he would have preferred a steak, rare, cooked over his own grill. Then he glanced over at his wife as she laughed with Bennett. Whatever sacrifices had been made were nothing compared to the rewards. “Gabriella says I’m determined not to learn.”
“And?”
“She’s right.”
Eve laughed and picked up her wine. “I’m looking forward to seeing your farm tomorrow, Reeve. Chris told me the house was lovely, though she got lost when you started in on wheat or oats. And you have horses.”
“All the children ride. Even Dorian sits on a pony.” He paused as the main course was cleared. “It’s amazing how fast they learn.”
“How does it feel?” She turned a little more, not certain where the question had come from or why it seemed so important. “Living here, I mean, or living here most of the year, having to sink down another set of roots, learn new customs?”
He could have passed it off as some men would. He could have made a joke as othe
rs might. But he had a fondness for the truth. “It was difficult at first, for both of us. Now it’s home. Just as Virginia’s home. I can’t say I won’t be happy when Alex marries and Brie has fewer obligations, but I fell in love with the woman. Her rank is part of it, part of her.”
“It is more than just a title, isn’t it?” she murmured. Before she realized it, before she could prevent it, her gaze drifted to Alexander.
“A great deal more,” Reeve agreed, aware of where her interest had shifted. “And more yet for him.”
Eve brought her attention back quickly. “Yes, of course. He’ll rule one day.”
“He’s been molded for it from his first breath.” Were Gabriella’s instincts right? Reeve wondered. Was there a spark between Alexander and Eve that would take very little fanning? He’d never seen it, but tonight he wasn’t so sure. If there was, Eve wouldn’t find it an easy road. Reeve mulled over his wine a moment, then kept his voice quiet. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s that duty and obligation aren’t choices for some, or for the people who love them.”
He was telling her what she already knew, and more than she wanted to know. “No, I’m sure you’re right.” To ease the tension that had come so quickly, she turned to the ambassador and made him laugh.
* * *
The dinner party moved to the main parlor with coffee and brandy. Calculating that a decent amount of time had elapsed, Bennett took Eve’s hand. “Air,” he whispered in her ear.
“Rude,” she whispered back.
“No, they’ll talk for an hour yet. And I’m entitled, even obliged, to entertain you as well as the others. Let’s just step out on the terrace.”
The invitation was hard to resist. Eve already knew how tempting nights in Cordina were. A quick glance showed her that Alexander had the ambassador engaged in quiet conversation and that Brie and Reeve were dealing with the ambassador’s wife.