Single White Vampire (7 page)

Lucern exchanged a glance with the others. They all knew darned well that Rachel had probably hoped to slip outside for a quick nip as their mother had just done. Kate, in her kindness, had made that impossible.

“Why did you call us reprobates?” Gregory asked.

Kate gave an airy wave and laughed. “Because of what you're doing out here.”

The four men exchanged glances and shifted into a tighter group, making sure that the open back of the van and the cooler of blood were hidden; then Lucern echoed, “What we're doing?”

“Oh, like it isn't obvious,” she snorted. “Sneaking out here, crowding around the van.” She shook her head and gave them a condescending look. “I may have
been raised in Nebraska, but I've lived in New York long enough to be savvy about you artist types.”

Now the looks the men exchanged were bewildered. Artist types? Lucern was a writer, Etienne a program developer, Bastien a businessman and Greg was a therapist. Artist types? And what did she think artist types did anyway? The only way to find out was to ask. Lucern did. “What is it exactly that you think we are doing out here?”

She gave a resigned sigh. “You're smoking pot-joints.” She said it as one word.

The men all gaped at her; then Etienne released a disbelieving laugh. “What?”

Kate tsked with exasperation. “Pot. Marijuana. You guys snuck out here for a debbie.”

“Er…I believe it's called a doobie,” Greg interjected.

“Whatever. That's what you were doing, right?”

“Er…” Lucern began. Then he, Bastien, Etienne and Greg shared a grin.

“Yes. You caught us. We were smoking a debbie,” Etienne agreed.

“Doobie,” Greg corrected.

“Yes.” Bastien nodded. “We'd offer you some, but we…er…”

“Smoked it all up,” Etienne finished.

The two men sounded disgustingly apologetic to Lucern's mind. Good Lord.

“Oh, that's okay. I don't smoke anything.” She smiled crookedly, then added, “Besides, dinner is about to be served. I think that's why Rachel was looking for you.”

“Well then, we should go in.” Stepping forward, Lu
cern took Kate's arm firmly and turned her toward the building. They'd barely taken two steps when he heard the van doors closing and the other men fell into step behind them.
Smoking debbies. Good Lord.

 

Lucern was distracted through dinner, merely picking at the food. It was apparently very good, if Kate's comments were to be believed, but he didn't really have an appetite. He found his mind stuck on his mother's claim that Kate's job depended on her convincing him to cooperate. Lucern didn't know why, but that was really bothering him. A lot.

“…dance, Luc.”

Lucern glanced around in confusion. He'd only caught the end of his mother's words, he'd been so deep in thought. He peered at her in question. “What?”

“I said, you should take Kate out on the floor and dance. To support Etienne and Rachel. Someone has to start everyone else dancing.”

He glanced toward the dance floor, surprised to see that the bride and groom were dancing. The meal was over, and the first dance had begun. He, as the head of his side of the family, would be expected to join next. By all rights, he should be taking his mother, the matriarch, up there to encourage others to dance, but one look at Marguerite told him that she had started her matchmaking in earnest. She would not be dancing with him.

Sighing, he pushed his seat back and held out a hand to Kate. His editor looked terribly uncertain as she placed her fingers in his and rose—a fact that annoyed him no end, for reasons he couldn't possibly fathom
and had no intention of examining too deeply. Telling himself it was just a duty dance, and that his mother couldn't force him to dance with Kate again, Lucern led her onto the dance floor and took her into his arms.

It was a mistake. Kate C. Leever fit in his arms as if she'd been made for him. Her head came up just short of Lucern's chin, her hand was small and soft in his, and the scent of her perfume wafted tantalizing and vaguely exciting to his nose. Without even realizing it, he found himself urging her closer so that his body could meld with hers, his legs and chest brushing her with every step.

Lucern was used to hunger; he experienced it every morning upon awakening. While he slept, his body processed the blood he drank, repairing whatever damage the day had wrought and leaving him dehydrated and in serious need of more. Some days that hunger was worse than others. Some days it was mild enough that he could be distracted by other things as he had been this morning. Still, Lucern knew hunger. He understood thirst. He lived daily with a bone-deep yearning that could become so strong his body would cramp with it. And yet this…

He lowered his head, breathing in the scent of Kate's shampoo mingled with the spice and sweetness of her perfume. She smelled vaguely of vanilla, like a rich and luscious dessert or a bowl of ice cream, and he had the sudden mad urge to lick the nape of her neck and…

Lucern straightened abruptly as he caught hold of his thoughts. Lick her nape? More like bite it. Good Lord, he needed more blood. He'd been rather slack on the consumption end lately. What with Kate's presence and
such, he hadn't been sticking to his usual four pints a day. He'd been running on mostly two—which explained his odd hunger now. He was confusing hunger for Kate's blood with hunger for her.

Relieved beyond measure, he smiled widely down at her when she murmured his name. She seemed slightly surprised at his smile, then asked uncertainly, “Is something wrong? You've stopped dancing.”

Lucern peered around, surprised to realize that in his revelation he had stopped moving. He now merely stood in the middle of the dance floor holding her close. Very close. Her breasts, squashed against his chest, were being forced upward out of her gown. And they were very nice breasts. Round and a pale pink flesh tone that spoke of healthy blood. Lucern would have liked to lick his way over those orbs and…

“I have to talk to Bastien,” he gasped. “Now.”

Releasing her from his tight hold, he started to walk to where Bastien was dancing, then suddenly realized what he was doing. Whirling back to the bewildered Kate, who stood like an abandoned baby in the center of the dance floor, he took her arm and led her back to their table. He then walked around the dance floor, relieved that the music ended just as he reached his brother's side.

“Bastien, after you've seen your dance partner back to the table, I need to talk to you outside. At the van,” he said meaningfully.

“Sure,” his younger brother said. “Be with you in a moment.”

Lucern nodded, and Bastien walked Rachel's sister, who was the maid of honor, back to the head table.

“Did I hear you say you were going out to the van?”

Lucern turned to find Lissianna behind him. She and Gregory had joined the dance floor just after Lucern and Kate. The couple had been standing nearby, waiting for the next song to start. He wasn't surprised she'd heard what he said.

He nodded in answer to her question, and felt it necessary to explain: “I haven't been feeding enough since Kate arrived.”

Lissianna nodded in understanding. “Rachel and I will join the two of you. She was saying earlier that, what with preparing for the wedding and everything, she—”

“Fine, fine,” Lucern interrupted. He didn't need the explanation. He was happy to have the women join them. “Go get her, then. Bastien will…Oh. He's brought her with him.”

Bastien was leading their new sister-in-law across the floor.

“I'll keep an eye on Kate, so she doesn't come out and try to catch you with the debbies in hand,” Greg said lightly as Bastien and the bride arrived. He moved off to invite the editor to dance.

“Good, good.” Lucern didn't even smile. He just nodded his thanks and ushered the other three out of the reception hall.

 

Kate relaxed in Greg's arms the moment they started to move, something she hadn't been able to do in Lucern's embrace. She had seen the writer slip outside with his sister, Rachel and Bastien, and suspected they were out there smoking again. In her considered opin
ion, the man could use it. It would help him relax, surely. The man had been tense throughout the meal, and…Well, she supposed he had just seemed distracted through the meal—not that she'd let it bother her. She'd been busy talking to his mother and sister and listening to the amusing tales they told her about Lucern's youth.

If the mother and sister were to be believed, Lucern was really a very sensitive man with a crusty, grumpy shell. Having read his novels, Kate thought that was quite possible. There was a certain longing in the way he portrayed the couples in his book, a hunger that went beyond the bloodlust of vampires or even beyond sexual desire. His characters were lonely at heart, yearning for a soul mate to share their long lives. Kate wondered now if it wasn't a reflection of his feelings, if he didn't yearn for love.

Greg gave her a little twirl, and she smiled at him. Lissianna's husband was a much more relaxed dancer than Lucern. Luc had been almost vibrating with tension as he and she had moved across the dance floor, and it had transferred to Kate, filling her with a low-grade tension that was rather distressing. Despite that tension, however, she'd found herself melting into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and slipping her fingers closer to the nape of his neck to brush the hair there. She'd been relieved if a little stunned when he'd stopped dancing and walked away.

Well, all right, she'd been more stunned than relieved. She had stood there, gaping after him, unable to believe that he was reverting to his trademark rudeness right there in the middle of the dance floor for all
to see. If he hadn't suddenly turned back and seen her to their table, she might have chased him down and given him a swift kick to the behind. Yes, it was definitely a good thing he was outside smoking. Surely it would relax him.

 

“I think you should just agree to do something for her,” Bastien suggested. Of course, as ever, Kate had been the topic of conversation since they'd reached the van. And much to Lucern's irritation, everyone seemed to have advice.

“Why don't you tell her you'll do one of those interviews? Like that R.T. thing Mom suggested,” Bastien continued. “Or tell her you'll do one of the publicity events, but only one and not the book-signing tour. Let her choose which is most likely to save her job. That way, she'll be happy and leave.”

“Let
her
choose?” Lucern was horrified at the idea of giving her so much sway. “But what if she chooses one of the television interviews?”

Lissianna clucked impatiently. “It wouldn't kill you to spend half an hour in front of a camera, Luc.”

“But—”

“Look at it this way,” his sister added. “Half an hour in front of a camera during an interview, or Kate Leever camping out on your porch.”

Bastien laughed. “If you even manage to get her out the front door.”

Lucern glared at him, but his brother merely shrugged. “You've apparently gone soft on us, Luc,” he continued. “A hundred years ago you wouldn't have
had any trouble tossing her out on her heart-shaped little behind.”

“You've been looking at her behind?” Lucern asked in outrage.

“Sure, why not? She's single. I'm single.” He shrugged. “Is there a problem?”

Lucern scowled. There shouldn't be a problem, and he knew it. But for some reason, he didn't like Bastien checking out Kate at all.

“Poor Luc,” Lissianna said. He peered at her in question, so she patted his arm as if he needed soothing. “Six hundred years old, and you just don't know how to deal with the feelings Kate raises in you. Surely with age some wisdom should come.”

“It seems men remain emotionally dense no matter how long they live,” Rachel commented dryly.

Lucern remained silent, his thoughts in an uproar. Lissianna was implying he was unaware he was falling for the girl. He wasn't. He was aware of it. But he didn't have to like it—or give in to it, either. As to the hunger he felt around her, Lucern admitted now it wasn't bloodlust he'd felt on the dance floor, but sexual lust. He wanted Kate C. Leever, editor. And that was a complication he could do without. If her mind wasn't closed to him, he might have been willing to indulge himself and enjoy her body as he wanted to. He certainly hadn't lived as a monk for six hundred years. But her mind
was
closed, making such an action dangerous.

Shaking his head, he left the others by the van and headed back into the reception hall. As far as he was
concerned, he was just suffering a crush—a natural affection caused by being forced into close proximity with someone else. He'd get over it just as soon as Kate C. Leever was gone. He just had to get her gone.

Marguerite was the only one at the table when Lucern returned and reclaimed his seat. A quick scan of the dance floor showed Kate and Greg were dancing. They looked awfully cozy. Kate was relaxed and smiling in Gregory Hewitt's arms—something she hadn't been in Lucern's—and they were moving in perfect sync, as if they'd been dancing together for years.

Gregory even looked pretty damned suave out there on the dance floor. Lucern had never thought of his brother-in-law as a ladies' man, but he certainly seemed to be doing a pretty good imitation right now. Logically, Lucern knew Greg loved Lissianna deeply and was no threat when it came to Kate. Besides which, Lucern reminded himself quickly, he himself wasn't even interested in a relationship with the woman. But his body didn't appear to be responding to his logic. Some primal part of him didn't give a hoot for logic. And as he watched Greg whirl Kate around the dance floor, Lu
cern could feel his muscles tensing and twitching. A low growl rumbled to life in his chest as he watched the pair dip and then recover.

“You should go cut in.”

Lucern stiffened at his mother's words. He glanced her way and saw she was casting a pitying look upon him. He turned sharply, struggled briefly with himself, then jerked to his feet and strode onto the dance floor. If there was anything Lucern hated it was being pitied. Now he was mad.

Greg noticed his approach, took one look at his expression, nodded solemnly and quit the dance floor.

Kate turned in confusion when Greg suddenly released her and stepped away. She supposed she wasn't surprised to see Lucern there. However, she was surprised at his expression. His usually cold, grumpy exterior had been replaced by the intensity of a stalking animal. He looked hard and angry, but not cold. Anything but cold. His eyes were all silver with no blue. She now understood a description he had given of Claude in his first book: “Flinty eyes that spoke of the fires of hell and left his enemies quailing.” She hadn't imagined that silver-blue eyes could look so ferocious, but there were vermilion fires burning there, almost seeming to snap out of his irises like the arc from a welder's flame.

Yet Kate wasn't afraid. For some reason a smile curved her lips, and she couldn't have stopped the words that popped out had she tried. “Smoking debbies didn't relax you, I take it?”

Lucern reacted as if he crashed into an invisible wall. His determined stride broke at once, and he stared at
her with a blank expression that utterly erased the feral fever of moments before. Then he did the most amazing thing: Lucern Argeneau, that stubborn, stupid, ignorant man, actually let loose a gale of laughter. In truth, Kate hadn't thought such a thing possible. The man was such a…

Her thoughts died as he swept her into his arms and they began to dance. He was still chuckling softly, the action making his chest reverberate against hers. He urged her closer. When Kate lifted her head to peer shyly into his face, he smiled and said, “You're an evil woman, Kate C. Leever.”

She found herself smiling in return. She had thought the man handsome from the first, but now, with laughter sparkling in his eyes and tilting the corners of his mouth, he was so much more than simply handsome. He was breathtaking. Literally. Kate honestly had some difficulty breathing as she met his gaze. Heat was radiating from every point their bodies met. She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and melt into him. She wanted to feel his hands move over her flesh. She wanted…

To go home. Kate definitely wanted to go home. Or, really, she wanted to go anywhere that would take her far away from him. She didn't want to feel this way, she didn't want to want him. Hell, she didn't even like the man.

Well, all right, she admitted with painful honesty; she'd had fun playing Blood Lust Two with him, and he
could
be nice when he tried. She was sure. It wasn't as if he had tried yet. But surely everyone could be nice
with a little effort? Yes, she assured herself. In fact, he was being nice to her right now. Sort of.

Kate sighed to herself. Dancing certainly felt nice. And when Lucern held her like this, she forgot how rude and pigheaded he could be. But—and it was a big but—she had absolutely no intention of getting involved with one of her writers. She was a business-woman. A professional. And she would act professionally even if that's all it was, an act, and she really wanted to rip his designer suit off and plaster herself to his naked body.

Ohhhh.
This wasn't good.

Lucern suddenly stopped dancing and announced, “I'm tired.” When she didn't respond, he added, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.” She fired off the response like a bullet. She was more than happy to escape the possibility of suffering any more of this closeness.

Lucern apparently agreed. He immediately took her arm, led her off the floor and across the hall. He stopped only once, pausing briefly at the head table to tell his brother and new sister-in-law that they were leaving.

Kate spied Marguerite Argeneau frowning at them from her seat at the table they had shared, and she knew Lucern's mother wasn't pleased that they were leaving so early. She felt bad, but really it wasn't her problem. Marguerite was Lucern's problem. Kate's problem was maintaining a businesslike relationship while getting Lucern to do a publicity event. And she only had one more day to do it.

 

Lucern was silent on the way home, his thoughts a bit muddled. He wasn't certain what his intentions had been when he'd suggested leaving early, but…

Oh, who was he kidding? He'd been thinking about getting Kate home alone and possibly naked. The woman had gotten under his skin, and his family had made him admit it. Bastien had given him a nudge with the comment about her behind, and with the knowing smile on his face when he'd asked if his noticing was a problem; then Lissianna had made it worse with her “poor Luc.” Just the sight of Kate in Greg's arms had roused the beast inside. But the look of pity on his mother's face had been the worst. Lucern realized that he could try to fool himself, but he was fooling no one else. And hell, he wasn't even fooling himself.

He liked her. Despite the fact that she was a modern woman, pushy and aggressive when necessary, who simply did not know her place, he liked her. Despite the fact that she seemed to have no dragons to slay, except perhaps him and his lack of cooperation, he liked her. And, dear God, he
wanted
her.

Lucern was a healthy male of 612 years. The number of women he'd been with in that time…Well, he couldn't even guess at the number. However, every single one had faded from his mind when he held Kate in his arms.

But she wasn't in his arms now; she was seated in the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over her chest and staring blindly into the night as they drove. She was deliberately ignoring him, distancing herself. It helped to clear Luc's mind somewhat. Kate was his editor. He had to work with her. Sleeping with her would be a
giant no-no. He felt inexpressibly weary as he pulled into his driveway.

Both he and Kate were silent as they got out of the car. She was the first to speak. She gazed up at the star-studded sky as they walked up the drive and murmured, “It's a beautiful night.”

Lucern's steps faltered at her wistful tone. She sounded reluctant to see the night end, and he didn't want it to, either. Lucern knew he couldn't give in to his desire for her, but he was still loath to part from her.

“It
is
nice,” he agreed. “Would you like to sit on the porch and have a glass of wine?”

He held his breath as she hesitated.

“Can we have coffee instead?” she asked. “I've had more than my usual quota of alcohol tonight.”

Lucern let his breath out in a whoosh. “Certainly. Sit down and I'll—”

“I'll help.” She smiled for the first time since they'd left the reception. “No offense, but I don't think you've made a lot of coffee.”

Lucern wasn't offended. He was just happy that the evening wasn't going to end and that Kate C. Leever was smiling.

They worked in a companionable silence in the kitchen, Kate making coffee while he found bowls and scooped out some ice cream. Then they took their treasure out to the porch.

 

Kate stared up at the stars in the sky. It was such a peaceful night, so beautiful, and she was actually enjoying Lucern's company. Yes, she was actually enjoying it. His usual grumpy, terse persona was missing. She
didn't know if it was the alcohol or the debbies he had smoked at the wedding that had done it, but for the first time, he seemed very mellow in her presence. Oh, he had been pleasant the night before when they'd played the game together, but this was different. He'd been tense and ready to shoot the video-game bad guys then. Now he was incredibly relaxed and a pleasure to be with. They sat there for quite a while, drinking, eating their ice cream and chatting mildly about the wedding while avoiding looking at each other. At least Kate was avoiding looking at him. She had to—every time she gazed on the smile flirting on his lips, she wanted to kiss it.

You're a fool
, Kate told herself. Her attraction to Lucern Argeneau was dangerous, and she shouldn't be encouraging it by suffering him being nice and even likeable. He was
one of her writers
. She was like a den mother to her authors. But her feelings for Lucern at the moment were far from maternal. And the longer this nice interlude went on, the harder it got for her to resist moving closer, touching him as she talked, leaning into him, kissing…

Cutting off her thoughts right there, she straightened and sought something to distract herself, something to end this interlude. The easiest solution was the reason for her being there. Kate took a deep breath, then blurted, “Luc, I know you don't want to talk about this, but I really wish you would consider a book-signing tour.”

The writer tensed at once, the softness in his features disappearing. “No. I quite simply don't do book-signing tours.”

“I know you don't, Luc. But…your books are so popular and—”

“Then I hardly need to do a tour, do I?”

“But the readers want to meet you, they—”

“No,” he repeated firmly.

“Luc, please,” Kate entreated, her voice husky.

Lucern stared at Kate silently, wishing with all his heart that what she was pleading for was something entirely different.
Luc, please kiss me. Luc, please take me to your bed. Luc, please
…But that wasn't what she was asking for. This was business. A desire for him to promote his books and make more money for her company. She wanted him to disrupt his life, risk the day with its damaging sunlight, and do a book-signing tour. Lucern wished he'd never written those damn popular books.

Standing, he abruptly tossed the rest of his coffee on the lawn and headed for the door. “I have work to do. Good night.”

“No, wait. Lucern!” She was on her feet and after him at once. “We have to discuss this. I've been here three days and I haven't gotten a thing done.”

Lucern ignored her. He merely stepped inside and started upstairs.

“Luc, please! None of the writers like book-signings, but they are so good for publicity, and readers want the contact. They want to meet the writer behind the stories they enjoy so much. Just a short tour would do,” she wheedled when he made no response. “Half a dozen stops, maybe. I could go with you to be sure everything was just the way you wanted. If you would only—”

Lucern reached his office door. He stepped inside
and closed it behind him with a bang that was only slightly louder than the click of the lock.

 

Kate stared at the door. Slammed doors seemed to be a recurring theme in their relationship. She was beginning to hate doors.

Shoulders slumping, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. She was a very positive person as a rule, and had always thought that a person could do anything they set their mind to if they worked at it hard enough, but that was before she'd met the immovable object: Lucern. The man was as stubborn as…well, as she was. Maybe more.

Kate considered giving up, packing her bags and heading back to New York with her tail between her legs, but it wasn't in her nature. She hated to be such a pest and wished she could just leave him to his peaceful existence, but in the company's opinion it wasn't unreasonable for them to expect Lucern Argeneau to do some promotion. They put out big bucks to advertise his books; the least he could do was put in a little effort himself. And she mostly agreed with that. She just had to convince him. Hell, at this point she'd consider it a grand victory just to get him to agree to a couple of interviews over the phone.

Kate straightened slowly. It might work. She'd been concentrating on the book-signing tour, but perhaps she would have more luck with interviews.

“Luc?” she called out. Silence was her answer, but Kate wasn't deterred. “Look, I know you don't want to do the book-signing tour, and that's fine. But, please, at least consider doing a couple of interviews?”

She waited in the silence, then added, “Just think about it. Okay?”

Deciding to leave it for the night, Kate turned to the guest room door. She had to think of an argument, some plan to persuade him. Then she'd tackle him again in the morning.

 

Lucern knew when Kate gave up and walked away. He felt her absence as well as heard the opening and closing of the guest room door. He sat for a long time at his desk listening to her moving around getting ready for bed, then to the sounds of the night when she stopped.

He considered playing Blood Lust II, but it wasn't the same without her. He considered writing but wasn't in the mood. So he sat there in the silent darkness, listening to the night. The cry of night birds, the song of crickets, the whisper of the wind, the sighs of…. Kate, he realized. That sleepy breathy sound had been Kate. Lucern could just hear it if he strained. He could smell her, too. The scent seemed to hang about him. Recalling her leaning against him as they danced, he ducked his head and sniffed his jacket. The scent was strong there. Disturbing.