“You’re awake.” Paul set the tray on the bedside table, and then leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As he straightened, he said, “I checked on Livy, made us sandwiches, locked the doors and turned out the lights.”
Jeanne Louise nodded, but asked with interest, “Sandwiches?”
He chuckled at the question, and crawled onto the bed next to her, arranged and fluffed both of their pillows for them to lean back on, then pulled the sheets over to cover himself before picking up the tray again. Paul settled it on his lap and smiled at her. “Hungry?”
“Mmm.” She nodded, her gaze moving over the sandwiches. “What are they?”
“Ham, mayo, and cheese.”
“My favorite,” Jeanne Louise said with a grin.
“We aim to please here at casa Jones, ma’am,” he drawled teasingly.
“And you definitely do that,” she assured him, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek. When she then sighed and kissed the corner of his mouth, Paul urged her back.
“None of that now, you insatiable wench. This man needs sustenance to continue pleasing you.”
Jeanne Louise chuckled and accepted the plate he held out. She was feeling rather hungry, and they both fell silent as they started to eat. Hungry as she was, Jeanne Louise practically inhaled her sandwich. Even so, Paul was faster. The moment she finished hers, he took her plate and set it on his own on the tray. He then handed her one of the glasses of what turned out to be iced tea.
“Jeanie,” he said reluctantly as she sipped at the sweet, icy liquid. “We need to talk about Livy.”
“You want me to turn her,” Jeanne Louise said softly.
Paul froze briefly, then lowered his head and took a deep breath. His expression was apologetic and pleading when he raised his eyes to meet hers again. “I’m sorry to ask you. I mean . . . when I first kidnapped you, I thought that was all I cared about. You were a way to save Livy. But I think even then I . . .” He closed his eyes and then opened them again and admitted, “I could have taken someone else, but I wanted it to be you.”
“You could have taken someone else?” she asked, peering at him uncertainly.
Paul smiled wryly and admitted, “There’s a pretty little redhead named Bev in my department who has made it clear she’d be interested in a . . . er . . . friendship.” He ended with a pained grimace.
Jeanne Louise arched her eyebrows at the term. He meant this Bev wanted to be his lover. The idea caused jealousy to flare up in her briefly before she stamped it down. Obviously he hadn’t accepted the offer. Besides there was nothing to be jealous of, she was his life mate. So Jeanne Louise simply waited silently for him to continue.
“It would have been the easiest thing in the world to call her and tell her I’d decided I’d like that,” Paul pointed out. “I could have invited her over to the house for dinner, shot her with the tranquilizer when she came through the door and—” He shrugged. “It would have been the safest and simplest way to get my hands on an immortal. No muss, no fuss, no worry about cameras or security.”
Jeanne Louise stared at him silently, knowing that he was right. That would have been much simpler, not to mention easier than sneaking around, breaking into his friend’s car to get into the parking garage, and then hiding out in his trunk all night waiting for her to get done her shift. Which begged the question—“Why didn’t you?”
“I almost did,” Paul admitted with a grimace. “And then I ran into Marguerite while I was shopping for chain—”
“Marguerite,” Jeanne Louise interrupted sharply. “Marguerite Argeneau-Notte? My aunt?”
“Yes.”
“How the devil do you know my aunt?” she asked with amazement.
Paul smiled faintly. “We met my first day at Argeneau Enterprises. Bastien was giving me a tour and we’d just come from your lab.” Paul paused to smile at her wryly. “You hardly paid me any attention, by the way. Didn’t even lift your head when Bastien introduced us, just mumbled a greeting and kept on peering into your microscope at whatever you were examining.”
Jeanne Louise stared at him nonplussed. She’d actually met him? Apparently. Well, sort of.
“Anyway, Marguerite came up the hall in search of Bastien as we left your lab,” Paul continued. “She was supposed to have lunch with him or something. He introduced us and she said she’d love to help out, and perhaps she could drive home volunteers after we’ve tested the tranquilizer on them. So on those rare occasions when we have a volunteer who can’t arrange a ride of their own, she comes and collects them and takes them home.” Paul smiled and said simply, “We’ve kind of become friends.”
“Friends,” Jeanne Louise said faintly, and then shook her head. This was her aunt he was talking about. “And she encouraged you to kidnap me?”
“Well, not in so many words,” he said on a laugh. “She didn’t know I planned to kidnap anyone. But I went looking for sterilized jars, and bumped into her in the canning section at Canadian Tire—”
“You bumped into Aunt Marguerite in the canning section of Canadian Tire?” she asked dryly. Marguerite didn’t can anything. She didn’t even cook as far as Jeanne Louise knew.
“Yes, and she asked how I was and how Livy was. Of course, I didn’t tell her that Livy was sick.”
He didn’t have to, Jeanne Louise thought dryly, Marguerite would have plucked it from his mind without even trying. It would have been right there on the surface, the one fact probably filling his thoughts at the time. The main thought that had filled his thoughts since he’d got the news, she was sure. Jeanne Louise didn’t say as much though.