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 toevery 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.