Single White Vampire (4 page)

He presumed she feared that his pallor was due to his supposed head injury. It was due to lack of blood, however, which reminded Lucern that he should see if Bastien was home. Excusing himself, he left the room and went to his office.

Much to his disappointment, when he called his brother, there was no answer. Bastien was either out on a date or had gone back to Argeneau Industries. Like Lucern, Bastien preferred working at night when everyone else was sleeping. The habits of a couple hundred years were hard to break.

Lucern returned to the kitchen, to find that Kate Leever had finished eating and had already rinsed off most of the dishes and set them in the dishwasher.

“I shall finish that,” he said at once. “You must be exhausted and ready for bed.”

Kate glanced at Lucern with surprise. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had written those short “nos” in response to her letters and been so rude when she'd first arrived. His helping her unload groceries and apparent consideration now made her suspicious. The hopeful look on his face didn't help much, either. However, she
was
tired. It had been a long day, so she reluctantly admitted, “I am tired, actually.”

In the next moment, she found her arm grasped in a firm hand and herself being propelled out of the kitchen.

“It's to bed with you!” Argeneau sounded cheerful at the prospect, and he rushed her up the hall and then the stairs. “Sleep as late as you like. I shall probably work all night as usual and sleep most of the day. If you rise before me, eat whatever you wish, drink whatever you wish, but
do not poke around.
” The last was said in a hard tone that sounded more like the rude man she expected.

“I would hardly poke around,” she said quickly, annoyed. “I brought a manuscript with me to edit. I'll just do that until you get up.”

“Good, good. Good night.” He pushed her into the yellow guest room she'd chosen earlier and pulled the door closed with a snap.

Kate turned slowly toward it, almost expecting to hear the door's lock click into place. She was relieved when that didn't happen. Shaking her head at her own suspicious mind, she moved to her suitcase to find her nightgown, then went into the en suite bathroom to
shower. She was just crawling into bed when she recalled the excuse she'd used to get to stay here. She paused to glance around.

Spotting the small digital clock on the bedside table, she picked it up and set it to ring in an hour. She had every intention of getting up to check to be sure that Lucern hadn't fallen asleep—and that if he had, he could still wake up.

Kate set the alarm back on the table and crawled under the covers, thinking of those few panicked moments in the kitchen. She drew a deep breath through her nose, recalling Lucern Argeneau standing before her, blood streaming down his head and face. Dear God, she'd never actually seen a head injury before. She'd heard they could be bloody, of course, and that they often looked worse than they truly were, but there had been so much blood.

She shuddered and swallowed a knot of anxiety. Kate hardly knew the man, and he'd been nothing but rude to her since her arrival, but despite the fact that it would serve him right after his behavior, she really didn't want to see him dead. How was she going to impress her boss that way? She could see it now. “No, Allison, I wasn't able to convince him to do the newspaper interviews. No, nor the television shows. Er…no, he won't be doing signings either. Actually, I might have been able to convince him, except I killed him instead. It was an accident, Allison. I know he is our latest cash cow, and I truly didn't mean to kill him despite the fact that he's a rude, pigheaded…No, really, it was an accident! Yes, I do realize I'm fired. No, I don't blame you at all for not giving me a reference. Yes, if
you'll excuse me I'll just go apply at McDonald's now that my publishing career is ruined.”

Sighing, she shook her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. Thank goodness Argeneau seemed healthy—except for the pallor. She sat up in bed, concern eating at her again. He really had been awfully pale.

“And why not?” she asked herself. It looked as if he'd lost a quart of blood. Or at least a pint. Maybe she should check on him now. Kate considered the matter briefly, partly wanting to check on him, partly reluctant to have him bark at her for interrupting him at whatever he was doing. He was surely going to bark enough when she checked on him every hour through the night. But he had been terribly pale after hitting his head.

On the other hand, she had noticed his pallor on the porch before he'd ever hit his head. Or had that been the lighting? It had been nighttime, and the light on the porch had been one of those neon jobbies. That might have simply made him appear pale.

She mulled over the matter briefly, started to slip her feet off the bed to go check on him before she went to sleep, but then she paused at the sound of a closing door. Stiffening, Kate listened to the soft pad of feet down the hall, then forced herself to relax and lie back down. The footsteps had been soft, but otherwise normal. Lucern didn't sound to be staggering or unduly slow. He was fine. She would stick to her plan to check him in an hour.

Relaxing, she lay back and closed her eyes. She wasn't going to get much sleep tonight and knew it. In truth, she'd really rather be in a hotel somewhere sleep
ing soundly. And she would be—head wound or no head wound—if she weren't so afraid that once he got her out of the house, Lucern Argeneau wasn't likely to let her back in. Kate couldn't risk that; she just
had
to convince him to do one of the publicity appearances. Any one of them would do. She very much feared that keeping her new position as editor depended on it.

 

“You're kidding? She really thought all that blood was from a little bump on the head?” Etienne gave a disbelieving laugh.

“Well, she would hardly imagine it came from a bag of blood in his fridge,” Bastien pointed out, but he was chuckling too.

Lucern ignored his brothers' amusement and sank his teeth into the second bag of blood Rachel brought him. He'd already ingested the first. He had insisted on doing so before explaining why he'd shown up at Etienne's home pleading to be fed. The first bag had allowed him to get over his surprise that Bastien was there. It had also given his brothers time to explain that Bastien had come by to help sort out some last-minute problems with the wedding. Which explained nicely why Lucern hadn't been able to reach him.

“What I don't understand,” Bastien said as Lucern finished off the second bag and retracted his teeth, “is why you didn't simply get into her head and suggest she leave.”

“I tried,” Lucern admitted wearily. He placed both empty bags in the hand Rachel held out, then watched her walk out of the room to dispose of them. “But I could not get into her mind.”

The silence that followed was as effective as great gusty gasps would have been from anyone else. Etienne and Bastien stared at him, stunned.

“You're kidding,” Bastien said at last.

When Lucern shook his head, Etienne dropped onto the chair across from him and said, “Well, don't tell Mother if you don't want her pushing you two together. The minute she heard that I couldn't read Rachel's mind was the minute she decided we'd make a good couple.” He paused thoughtfully. “Of course, she
was
right.”

Lucern grunted in digust. “Well, Ms. Kate C. Leever is not perfect for me. The woman is as annoying as a gnat flying about your head. Stubborn as a mule, and pushy as hell. The damned woman has not given me a moment's peace since pushing her way over my doorstep.”

“Not true,” Bastien argued with amusement. “You managed to give her the slip long enough to come here.”

“That is only because she was tired and went to bed. She…” He paused suddenly and sat up straight, recalling her promise to check on him every hour to be sure his head injury hadn't done more damage than he believed. Would she really do that? He glanced sharply at his brothers. “How long have I been here?”

Bastien's eyebrows rose curiously, but he glanced at his watch and said: “I'm not positive, but I'd guess you've been here about forty, forty-five minutes.”

“Damn.” Lucern was on his feet at once and heading for the door. “I have to go. My thanks for the drinks, Rachel,” he called loudly at the other room.

“Wait. What…?”

Bastien and Etienne got up to follow, questions slipping from their lips, but Lucern didn't stop to answer. He'd locked his office door before leaving the house, and Kate might assume that meant he was in there, but if she really did check on him hourly and got no answer when she knocked on the door, the damned woman might decide he'd died or something and call the police or an ambulance. She might even break down his office door herself. There was just no telling what that woman might do.

He came up with a couple of doozies as he hurried home.

Fortunately, she hadn't done any of them by the time he returned. She was up and trying to rouse him, though—that much was obvious the moment he opened the front door. He could hear her shouting and banging on his office door all the way downstairs. Rolling his eyes at the racket she was making and the panic in her voice as she called his name, Lucern pocketed his house keys and jogged upstairs. He came to an abrupt halt at the top of the steps.

Dear God, the woman didn't just eat rabbit food, she wore rabbit slippers.

Lucern gawked at the ears flopping over the furry pink bunny slippers she wore, then let his gaze slide up over her heavy, also pink and fuzzy, housecoat. If he didn't already know she had a nice figure, he wouldn't know now. Then he caught a glimpse of her hair and winced. She'd gone to bed with wet hair and had obviously tossed around a lot in her sleep; her hair was standing on end in every direction.

On the bright side, she obviously didn't intend on stooping to seducing him into doing any of those publicity things she was so fired up for him to do. Oddly enough, Lucern actually felt a touch of regret at that realization. He didn't understand why. He didn't even like the woman. Still, he might have been open to a little seduction.

“Good evening,” he said when she paused in her yelling to take a breath. He found himself gaping again, as Kate C. Leever whirled around to face him.

“You! I thought…” She turned to the locked office door, then back to him. “This door is locked. I thought you were in there, and when you didn't answer, I…” Her voice trailed away as she took in his expression. Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled the edges of her ratty old robe together as if he might be trying to catch a better look at the flannel nightgown showing at the neckline. “Is something wrong?”

Lucern couldn't help it; he knew it was rude, but he couldn't stop the words from blurting through his lips. “Dear God! What is that goop on your face?”

Kate immediately let go of her robe and pressed both hands to her face, her mouth forming an alarmed “Oh” as she recalled and tried to hide the dry green mask.

It was obviously some sort of beauty treatment, Lucern deduced, but Kate didn't stick around to explain exactly what sort. Turning on her heel, she fled back to the guest room and closed the door. After a heartbeat, she called in a strained voice, “I'm glad you're all right. Mostly. I was worried when you didn't answer my knock. I'll check on you again in an hour.”

Silence then filled the hall.

Lucern waited a moment, but when he didn't hear the sound of footsteps moving away from the door, he decided she was waiting for some sort of response. “
No
” was the first response that came to mind. He didn't want her checking on him. He didn't want her here at all. But he found he couldn't tell her that. She'd appeared terribly embarrassed to be caught looking as she had, and really he couldn't blame her; she'd looked awful in a cute, bunny type way.

He smiled to himself at the memory of her standing there in his hall looking like hell. Kate
had
looked bad—but in the sort of adorable way that made him want to hug her…until he'd seen the cracking green mask on her face.

Lucern decided not to further distress her with the “no” she no doubt expected and instead called out “Good-night” in an uncomfortably gruff voice. As he moved to his office door and unlocked it, he heard a little sigh from the other side of her door, then a very small “good-night” in return. Her soft footsteps padded away. She was going to bed, he thought.

There came a snap, and light fingered its way out from under the guest room door. Lucern paused. Why were the lights on? Was she resetting her alarm clock for an hour from now? The silly woman really did intend to check on him every hour!

Shaking his head, he stepped into his office and flicked on the lights. He'd give her fifteen minutes to fall asleep and then go in and turn off the alarm clock. The last thing he needed was for her to be pestering him all night. Although it did occur to him that if she didn't sleep much tonight, she would probably sleep
longer in the morning to make up for it, which would give her less time to nose around on her own while he was sleeping.

No, he decided. She'd said she wouldn't poke around, and he believed her.

Mostly.

Kate poked around.

She didn't mean to. In fact, she had made plans for the day which definitely did not include poking around—but, well, the best-laid plans and all that. They always went awry.

Kate woke up at ten a.m. Her first thought was to wonder where she was. Her second thought—once she recalled where she was and why—was “Oh, shit, the alarm didn't go off.” Sitting up in bed, she reached for the alarm clock to look it over. It was set to the off position. Kate frowned at the thing, sure she had reset it after checking on Lucern the first time. She distinctly recalled resetting it and turning it on. But it was off. She set it back with a frown. Had she woken up the second time just to roll over and turn it off? That must be it, she realized and grimaced to herself.

“Way to go, Leever. The one excuse you had to stay here, the one opportunity to ingratiate yourself with the
man, and you blew it.” Her thinking had been that surely he couldn't oust her after she'd gone to the trouble of rousing herself every hour to be sure he was all right. But now that she'd failed at her task, he'd have her out of there by noon—if he hadn't written all night as he'd claimed he was going to do. If he had written all night, he might not wake up until two or three o'clock. Which meant she'd be out of there by three or four.

“Good show, Katie.” She pushed the bedsheet aside and slipped out of bed. Now she'd have to come up with another good excuse to stay until she convinced Lucern Argeneau to cooperate.

Kate pondered the problem while she showered, while she dried off, while she dressed, while she brushed her teeth, while she fiddled with her hair and while she dabbed on a touch of face powder. At last she gave it up as a lost cause until after she'd eaten. She always thought better on a full stomach.

Leaving the guest room, she paused in the hallway and stared at the door opposite her own. Maybe she should check on her host. She hadn't done her checking through the night. The man might be lying comatose on his office floor.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully over the matter, then shook her head. Nope. Not a good idea, she decided. She'd neglected her duty to check on him last night; the last thing she wanted was to wake him up before she'd found some way to redeem herself.

Turning on her heel, she moved as quietly as she could to the stairs and down them. Her first stop was the kitchen. She put coffee on, then surveyed the con
tents of the fridge. Though she knew every single item in it, it was fun to look at all those goodies and pretend she might have something greasy and bad for her like bacon and eggs. Of course, she didn't. She settled for the less satisfying but healthy grapefruit and cereal. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and sipped it as she peered out the window into Lucern's backyard. It was a large, neat, tidy lawn surrounded by trees, obviously professionally kept. Just as the house was.

Lucern's home bespoke wealth and class, both inside and out. It was large and filled with antiques, but outside was the true treat. The house was set on a good-sized property surrounded by trees and grass, all well kept and set up to disguise the fact that the home sat on the edge of a huge metropolis. It was gorgeous and restful, and Kate enjoyed it as she drank her coffee.

Pouring herself another cup, she wandered out of the kitchen and strolled up the hall, her mind searching for some plot to keep her in the house for at least another night. She really had to convince Lucern to do at least one of the interviews. Kate suspected he would never agree to do the book-signing tour and she had already let go of that idea, but surely he could be persuaded to do a couple of interviews. Possibly over the phone or via the Internet? A couple of her other authors had done it via e-mail. The interviewer sent an e-mail with the questions, the author answered by e-mail. Or there were the various messenger services; she'd heard of authors doing interviews that way as well. Geez, surely that wouldn't be such a big deal? Lucern wouldn't even have to leave his house.

She was about to turn into the living room with her
coffee when she spotted the box on the hall table. Kate recognized it at once. She'd packed the damned thing full of fan letters and sent it herself. Changing direction, she continued up the hall to the table and glared down at the box. She'd sent it three months ago! Three months! And he hadn't even bothered to open the damned thing, let alone answer any of the letters it held.

“Damned man,” she muttered. “Ungrateful, stupid…
wonderful
man.” The last was said with a dawning smile as she recognized her excuse for staying another night. “Oh,” she breathed. “God bless your stupid hide and rude ways.”

 

Salsa music. That was the first thing Lucern heard upon awaking. He recognized the tune; it was a hit at the moment. A brief image flashed in his head of a thin, handsome Latin man dancing around on a stage in dark clothes.

The music made it easy for him to find Kate. He merely followed the sound to his living room, where he paused in the doorway to gape at the shambles the room had become while he slept. The room that had been neat and tidy when he went to bed was now awash in paper. Every available surface had open letters and envelopes piled on it. Kate C. Leever boogied around a box in the center of the mess, pulling letters out, opening them, and gyrating to one pile or another to add the letter to it before boogying back for another.

“You poked!” he roared.

Kate, who had been doing some sort of bump and grind—a rather sexy bump and grind, to be honest—
with the half-empty box, gave a squeak of alarm. She whirled toward the door, upsetting the box and sending it to the floor.

“Now look what you made me do!” she cried, flushing with embarrassment. She bent to gather up the box and its contents.

“You poked,” Lucern repeated. Moving forward, he towered over her as she scooped up the escaped envelopes.

“I…” She peered up at him guiltily, then irritation took over her expression. Standing, she glared back. “I hardly needed to poke. The box was right there on the hall table. I noticed it in passing.”

“I am not sure, but I believe it is illegal to open someone else's mail. Is it not a federal offense?”

“I'm quite sure that doesn't apply when it's mail you sent yourself—and I
did
send this box. Three months ago!” she added grimly.

“But you did not write the letters inside it.”

Kate scowled, then turned her attention to throwing the unopened envelopes back in the box. She explained, “I saw that you hadn't even opened it yet, and thought perhaps I could help. It was obvious you were overwhelmed by the number of letters.”

“Ha! I had no idea of the number of letters. I hadn't opened it.”

“No, you hadn't,” she conceded after a moment. Then she asked, “What is it with you and mail? I've never met anyone who left mail lying about for months like this. It's no wonder you were so slow to answer my letters.”

Before he could respond, she turned and added,
“And how could you ignore these letters like you did?” She waved at the mini-towers built around the room. “These are your readers, your fans! Without them, you're nothing. They pay good money for your books, and more good money to tell you they enjoyed them. Your books wouldn't be published without readers to read them. How can you just ignore them like this? They took the time and trouble to write you. They say wonderful things about you, your books, your writing! Didn't you ever admire someone's work or enjoy it so much you wanted to tell them of your appreciation? You should be grateful they've taken the trouble to do so!”

Lucern stared at her with surprise. She was quite impassioned, her face flushed, her chest heaving. And what a nice chest it was, he noted. She had a nice figure altogether, even in the comfortable jeans and T-shirt she'd chosen to wear today.

All of which was interesting to note, but not very useful at the moment. He reprimanded himself and took a moment to clear his throat before trying to speak. The problem was, he couldn't recall what she'd said or what he should say in response.

“Ha!” There was triumph on her face. “You have no answer to that one, do you? Because it's true. You have been terribly lax in tending to this matter, and I've decided—out of the goodness of my heart—to help you. You needn't thank me,” she added in a rather self-righteous tone. Then she grabbed and opened another letter.

Lucern found a grin pulling at his lips as he watched her. He didn't have to be able to read her mind to know
that this was not out of the goodness of her heart, but an attempt to remain in his home long enough to convince him to do some of her publicity stuff. He decided—out of the goodness of
his
heart—to let her stay long enough to help him with the letters. He hadn't intended to answer them. He didn't know any of these people and it was a burdensome task, but now…Well, her tirade had actually reached him. To some degree.

“Very well. You may help me with the letters,” he announced.

Kate shook her head at Lucern Argeneau's magnanimity. “Well! How grand of you to allow me to…” She paused. Her sneering words were a wasted effort; Lucern had left the room. Damned man! He was the most frustrating, irritating…And what was with his proper speech all the time? The man had antique phrasing and a slight accent that she couldn't quite place. Both of which were beginning to annoy her.

She was just turning back to the box to continue sorting the letters into categories when a series of loud chimes rang through the house. Recognizing it to be the doorbell, she hesitated, then dropped the letters and went to answer. She opened the front door to find a uniformed man on the other side, a cooler stamped “A.B.B.” in hand.

“Hi.” He stopped chewing the gum in his mouth long enough to grin at her, showing off a nice set of white teeth. “You must be Luc's editor.”

Kate lifted her eyebrows. “Er, yes. Kate. Kate C. Leever.”

The man took the hand she held out and squeezed it warmly. “Aunt Maggie was right. You're a cutey.”

“Aunt Maggie?” Kate asked in confusion.

“Luc's mom and my aunt. Marguerite,” he added when she continued to look confused, but it didn't help Kate much. The only people she'd met since arriving were the pair who had been leaving when she got out of the taxi, and the woman certainly hadn't been old enough to be Luc's—er, Lucern's—mother. Kate shrugged that concern aside as the other connotations of what he'd said sank in. “You're Lucern's cousin?”

“Yes, ma'am. Our dads are brothers.” He grinned, making it hard for her to see a resemblance. Oh, this man was tallish and had dark hair like Lucern, but Luc didn't smile, and this young man hadn't stopped smiling since she'd opened the door. It was hard to believe they were related. “I'm quite a bit younger though.”

“You are?” she asked doubtfully. She would have placed both men around the same age.

“Oh, yes.” He grinned. “I'm centuries younger than Lucern.”

“Thomas.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder. Lucern was coming up the hall, a scowl on his face as he glanced from her to his cousin. She sighed inwardly at his obvious displeasure. Apparently, he didn't like her answering his door. Geez, the guy was such a pain. Why couldn't Thomas here have written the vampire novels? He would have been much easier to deal with, she was sure.

“Here you are, Cousin.” Thomas didn't seem surprised or disturbed by Lucern's expression. He held out the cooler. “Bastien said to get this here pronto. That you were seriously lacking and in need,” he added with a grin and a wink.

“Thank you.”

Lucern actually smiled at his cousin, Kate noted with surprise. And his face didn't crack and fall off.

“I'll return directly,” Lucern added. As he turned toward the stairs he warned, “Try not to bite my guest. She can be…provoking.”

Kate scowled at her host's retreating back, then smiled reluctantly at Thomas's chuckle. She turned with a wry smile and asked, “Has he always been this irritable, or is it just me?”

“Just you,” Thomas said. At her crestfallen expression, he started to laugh. Then he took pity on her and told the truth. “Nah. It isn't you. Lucern is kind of surly. Has been for centuries. Although he seems to be in a good mood today. You must be having a good influence on him.”

“This is a good mood?” Kate asked with disbelief. Thomas just laughed again.

“Here you are,” Lucern called. He jogged down the steps and handed his cousin's cooler back to him. “Give Bastien my thanks.”

“Will do.” Then Thomas nodded, gave Kate another wink, and turned to walk off the porch.

Kate glanced at the driveway and the truck parked in it. “A.B.B. Deliveries” was stamped on the side, the same as the cooler, she noted. Lucern maneuvered her out of the way and closed the door.

“What…?” she began curiously, but Lucern saved her from proving just how rude and nosy she could be. He turned away and started back up the hall before she could ask the questions trembling on her lips.

 

“I thought that, as there are so many letters—too many to answer individually, really—we could divide them into categories and come up with a sort of form letter for each. Then you could just add a line to each response to make it more personal.”

Lucern grunted and took another sip of the coffee Kate had made while making lunch. Well, it had been her lunch, his breakfast. Although, if he counted the bag of blood he'd sucked down while stacking the rest Thomas had delivered in the small refrigerator in his office, he supposed the meal could count as his lunch, too. They had since moved to the living room, and he was seated on the couch while she explained her plans for his letters.

“I'll take that to mean you think my plan is brilliant and agree to cooperate,” Kate said in response to his grunt. Because it seemed to annoy her, and because he liked the way she flushed when she was annoyed, Lucern grunted again.