Single White Vampire (10 page)

Lucern grunted assent, then wished he hadn't when she dug out a file from her capacious purse and shifted closer so that he could watch her open it. He really didn't want her closer. The scent of her was upsetting enough to his equilibrium; the feel of her was going to be…

Lucern inhaled deeply and sighed as she opened the file and unintentionally brushed his arm with hers. Then his gaze landed on the top page of the agenda. He frowned. “According to this, the conference started on Sunday.”

“No,” Kate said. Then she corrected herself, “Well,
yes. They had some events for anyone who wanted to join ahead of time, but the official start isn't until tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” Lucern decided to keep his mouth shut. He should be grateful that she hadn't forced him to go through the pre-conference crap, too.

“So,” his editor said with a return of her determined cheer. “Tomorrow starts with the morning walk with cover models. Then the brunch—”

“What the deuce is a morning walk with cover models?” Lucern interrupted. He'd already seen the agenda, of course—both on the internet and in the paperwork she'd sent him. But nothing had described any of the listed events.

“Er…well, actually, I'm not sure,” she admitted. She cleared her throat, her smile a tad strained. “But it doesn't matter—you don't have to attend.”

“I don't?” He peered at her suspiciously. Something she didn't want him to attend? That seemed strange. He had been sure that she was going to drag him to every single function.

“No. Your first official event will be the Welcome Brunch and R.T. Awards.”

Lucern nodded. Those didn't sound so bad. He could eat. Although the awards part would probably be boring.

“Then there's the Reader Hospitality Suite and discussion,” she went on. “Allison and Chuck want you there.”

“Who are Allison and Chuck?”

“Allison is the head editor, my boss,” Kate explained. “And Chuck is the company president. They'll definitely
expect you to attend the Hospitality Suite.”

Lucern grimaced. “What is it?”

“It's…” She appeared to be at a loss for a moment. “Well, each publisher—most of them, anyway—rents out a reception room at the hotel, and writers and editors talk to the readers who come in.”

“You want me to talk to people?” he asked in horror. Dear God, he should have done the signing! That would have been less bother, just scribbling his name.

“Of course I want you to talk to people,” Kate said with exasperation. “You can do it. I've seen you speak.” She fell silent and stared at him, alarm growing on her face. She bit her lip. “Or maybe we can skip that. No, Allison and Chuck would have a fit. You have to go.” She sighed heavily. “Oh, damn. This isn't good.”

“No, it isn't,” Lucern agreed with a nod. Then he jerked around with surprise as the door opened beside him. They had apparently arrived. Without his realizing it, the car had stopped, and the driver was now waiting for him to alight. Nodding his thanks, Lucern slid out then turned and took Kate's hand when she followed.

“We'll need to work on you tonight,” she decided as she straightened next to him.

Lucern stiffened and dropped her hand. “Work on me?”

“Yes. Work on you,” Kate repeated. They followed Lucern's luggage into the hotel. It was on a trolley, being pulled by a uniformed bellhop. Apparently the driver had seen to the luggage before opening the door for them.

“I don't need ‘work,'” Lucern said irritably as they stopped at the elevator.

“Yes, Lucern, you do.” Kate smiled sweetly at the bellhop as the doors opened, and he gestured for them to enter.

“I do not,” Lucern insisted, following, squeezing himself up against Kate to leave room for the luggage trolley.

“Can we talk about this later?”

Kate gave an impatient nod at the bellhop and pushed the button for their floor. At least Lucern presumed it was their floor. He hadn't a clue, though she had said someone named Chris had already checked them in. He supposed this Chris was another editor. He wondered if she would be as annoying as Kate.

He glanced at the bellhop, confused at Kate's desire to put this off. The man was a servant, hardly worth worrying about. Although he didn't want to argue either. “No. There is nothing to discuss. I do not need to be worked on.”

“You do,” Kate insisted. “And I'm not going to talk about this now.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“There
is
,” she snapped.

The bellhop gave a soft chuckle, and Lucern glared at him. There had been a time when servants knew their place and would have been deaf and dumb to such discussions. That time wasn't now. He constantly forgot how rude the world had become.

The doors opened and the bellhop moved the trolley out; then he led them down a long hall past countless doors. At the end he stopped, pulled out a card key, opened the door, then pushed the trolley in.

“Which room do these go in, ma'am?” he asked,
pausing in the center of a large chamber set up as a living room.

His question drew another scowl from Lucern. He was the man; the fellow should have addressed the question to him.

“I'm not sure. Just set them here. We can manage, thanks.” Kate accepted the card key from the fellow and handed him a tip, making Lucern scowl again, this time at himself. He was the man; he should have tipped the bellhop. He should be more on the ball. His only excuse was that it had been a long day. His flight had been at three p.m., but he'd had to leave for the airport at one to get through security. He had worn a business suit, hat and sunglasses, and slathered on sunscreen, but of course, some of the sunlight had got through. His body had sustained damage that his blood was already working to correct. He was feeling depleted and needed to feed—a state he was beginning to associate with Kate Leever.

The click of the door closing drew his gaze back to her, and Lucern picked up their argument immediately. “I do not need to be worked on.”

“Lucern,” his editor began wearily. Suddenly losing her temper, she said grimly, “Look. You're named after a dairy product, you look like an Angel wannabe, and you talk like a bad Bela Lugosi. You need work!”

“Wow, Kate.”

Lucern turned to see a tall, slender blond man entering the room. He was clapping his hands slowly, an irrepressible grin on his face. “You'll have to give me pointers on handling writers. I've never seen it done quite like that.”

“Oh. Chris.” Kate sighed unhappily.

“This is Chris?” Lucern asked with dismay.

His editor stiffened again but said simply, “Yes.”

“You never said he was a man. Make him leave.”

Kate's eyes narrowed on him, fury burning out of them. “Look, Lucern—”

“Nope,” Chris interjected. He put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Kate, he doesn't sound like Bela Lugosi. The smarmy accent is missing.”

Kate's ire turned on her coworker. “I meant he uses old-fashioned terminology.”

Chris merely arched an eyebrow. A moment later he added, “And his hair's too dark for him to be an Angel wannabe.”

“Shut up! Stay out of this.”

The editor laughed, apparently unoffended. “And Allison and Chuck were worried you couldn't handle this guy.”

“Who
is
this gentleman?” Lucern asked Kate stiffly. If she said it was her husband, boyfriend or lover, he feared he might have to perform some violence.

“Chris Keyes,” Kate announced. “He's an editor at Roundhouse, too. Chris Keyes, meet Lucern Argeneau, aka Luke Amirault, the vampire writer.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Argeneau.” The lanky editor stepped forward and offered his hand in welcome.

Lucern automatically shook, but he asked, “You're an editor?”

Keyes nodded.

“What do you edit?”

“Romance, like Kate.”

Lucern nodded slowly, then asked hopefully, “Are you a homosexual?”

Chris Keyes's eyes rounded in shock.

“Lucern!”

Lucern glanced at Kate with annoyance. She sounded just like his mother when she barked like that. Taking in the way his editor was flushing and then paling by turns, he decided not to mention it.

A sudden burst of laughter drew his gaze back to Chris. The young man's stunned expression had given way to a deep belly laugh. Lucern waited patiently for him to recover himself.

When Chris's mirth had died down to a chuckle, he asked, “What made you ask such a question?”

“You are a romance editor. That is a woman's job.”

“Ah.” Chris grinned. “But you write them. Are you gay?”

Lucern stared for a moment, then grinned, caught. “Touché.”

Kate was not amused. Moving between the two, she glared up at Lucern. “Chris has kindly agreed to help look after you this weekend. You will not be rude to him.” She scowled and added, “At least, no ruder than you usually are.”

Lucern scowled back. “I do not need to be looked after.”

“You—”

“Kate,” Chris interrupted. “It's getting late. If you still want to go to Bobbi's kick-off party, you should probably—”

“Oh, damn!” Kate glanced at her watch. She seemed to forget all about Lucern and asked her coworker,
“Where did you put my stuff? It's a Western theme. I have to change.”

“I put it in that room.” Chris pointed to a door on their right. “I figured if you didn't like it, we could shuffle later.”

Kate merely nodded. Rushing into the room, she slammed the door behind her. Chris just shook his head.

Lucern scowled after Kate. If she expected him to go to this party, she had another think coming. He had no intention of going to a Western themed party after just flying in.

“So, I guess it's you and me tonight, Luc,” Chris said cheerfully. Lucern suddenly rethought the party. Kate would be there. Not this guy.

“Why are you here?” he asked the male editor.

Chris grinned. “I'm supposed to keep you safe. When Kate can't be around. Like tonight.”

“Keep me safe?” Lucern echoed. “From what?”

Chris pursed his lips and considered. Then he grinned. “You've never been to a Romantic Times conference, have you, Luc?”

Lucern shook his head. He gave a start of surprise when Chris clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the bar in the corner. “Let's have a drink while I tell you. You're going to need it.”

Lucern fretted as he watched Chris pour the glass of Scotch he requested. He was beginning to believe this conference would be even more of a pain than he'd feared.

“There you are.” Chris handed him his drink. The editor then gestured for them to move to the couch,
which was set against the walled window.

Lucern moved toward it, suddenly thinking how hungry he was. “Was there a package delivered here for me?”

“Not that I know of. I'm sure they would have mentioned it when I signed in,” Chris answered. He settled in the room's one chair, leaving the couch to Lucern. “But then, I don't know that your name is registered for this room.”

Lucern stiffened. Was he not to be the man in any of these situations?

The bedroom door Kate had disappeared through suddenly opened, and she rushed out. Lucern automatically got to his feet at her entrance, forgetting about his hoped for blood delivery. He gaped at the woman. She was wearing the tightest pair of hip-hugging jeans he had seen in all his born days. They were complemented by knee-high cowboy boots, a checkered shirt, a fringed suede jacket, and a cowboy hat that looked like it had seen rough use. She looked sexy as hell.

“Katie,” Chris called. “Did you put Lucern's name on the room?”

Kate glanced over with surprise. “Of course not. I was afraid someone might connect the names Lucern Argeneau and Lucern Argentus and figure out this was his room. The whole idea of this suite was so that none of his fans could find him. Why?”

“Luc was expecting a delivery. I guess they would have turned it away if they didn't think he was here.”

Kate turned an apologetic gaze on Lucern. “Sorry. Just call and have them deliver it to my name. Okay?”

Lucern nodded slowly, his eyes feasting on her. She
blushed under his perusal, then said, “I'll try not to be out late. Chris will look after you until I get back. Anything you want, he's the man to go to, okay?”

Lucern nodded again, his tongue stuck on the roof of his mouth.

“Chris.” She turned her attention to her coworker. “Make him watch some TV. Maybe he can update the way he speaks by watching it.”

The other editor laughed. “Katie, dear, if watching television hasn't changed his speech before now, one night is hardly going to do it.”

“He doesn't have a TV,” she explained dryly. “At least, I didn't see one.” She turned a curious gaze to Lucern. “
Do
you have one?”

He shook his head. Television, in his opinion, rotted the brain.

“I didn't think so,” she said with satisfaction. She instructed her friend “Make him watch it. I'll see you guys later.”

Both men were silent until the door closed behind Kate. Lucern sank back onto the couch.

“Why did you stand?” Chris asked curiously.

“A lady had entered the room,” Lucern answered absently. His vision was still full of Kate the cowgirl. He usually preferred women in more feminine dress, but there had been nothing masculine about Kate in that outfit.

“You're kidding about the TV, right?” Chris asked. “Do you really not have one?”

“No. Never have.”

“Man!” Chris picked up the remote control off the table. Lucern recognized it; he had one for his stereo
system at home. This was to the television. The editor clicked it and grinned. “You're in for a treat, Luc. You're gonna love television.”