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.