Bastien tried to argue. "I don't understand why this is an issue now. We are both well over four hundred years old. Why, after all this time, have you taken it into your head to see us married off?"
Marguerite pondered for a moment. "Well, ever since your father died, I've been thinking"
"Dear God," Lucern interrupted. He woefully shook his head.
"What did I say?" his mother asked.
"That is exactly how Lissianna ended up working at the shelter and getting involved with Greg. Dad died, and she started thinking."
Bastien nodded solemnly. "Women shouldn't think."
"Bastien!" Marguerite Argeneau exclaimed.
"Now, now. You know I'm teasing, Mother," he soothed, taking her arm again. This time he got her out the door.
"I, however, am not," Lucern called as he watched them walk down the porch steps to the sidewalk. His mother berated Bastien the whole way, and Lucern grinned at his brother's beleaguered expression. Bastien would catch hell all the way home, Lucern knew, and almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
His laughter died, however, as his gaze switched to the blonde who was apparently his editor. His mother paused in her berating to greet the woman. Lucern almost tried to hear what was said, then decided not to bother. He doubted he wanted to hear it, anyway.
He watched the woman nod and smile at his mother, then she took her luggage in hand and started up the sidewalk. Lucern's eyes narrowed. Dear God, she didn't expect to stay with him, did she? There was no mention in her letter of where she planned to stay. She must expect to stay in a hotel. She would hardly just assume that he would put her up. The woman probably just hadn't stopped at her hotel yet, he reassured himself, his gaze traveling over her person.
Kate C. Leever was about his mother's height, which made her relatively tall for a woman, perhaps 5' 10". She was also slim and shapely, with long blond hair. She appeared pretty from the distance presently separating them. In a pale blue business suit, Kate C. Leever resembled a cool glass of ice water. The image was pleasing on this unseasonably warm September evening.
The image shattered when the woman dragged her luggage up the porch steps, paused before him, offered him a bright cheerful smile that lifted her lips and sparkled in her eyes, then blurted, "Hi. I'm Kate Leever. I hope you got my letter. The mail was so slow, and you kept forgetting to send me your phone number, so I thought I'd come visit personally and talk to you about all the publicity possibilities that are opening up for us. I know you're not really interested in partaking of any of them, but I feel sure once I explain the benefits you'll reconsider."
Lucern stared at her wide, smiling lips for one mesmerized moment; then he gave himself a shake. Reconsider? Was that what she wanted? Well, that was easy enough. He reconsidered. It was a quick task. "No." He closed his door.
Kate stared at the solid wooden panel where Lucern Argeneau's face had been and fought not to shriek with fury. The man was the most difficult, annoying, rude, obnoxiousshe pounded on his doorpigheaded, ignorant
The door whipped open, and Kate quickly pasted a blatantly false but wideshe should get high marks for effortsmile on her mouth. The smile nearly slipped when she got a look at him. She hadn't really taken the opportunity earlier. A second before, she had been too busy trying to recall the speech she'd composed and memorized on the flight here; now she didn't have a prepared speechdidn't actually even have a clue what to sayand so she found herself really looking at Lucern Argeneau. The man was a lot younger than she'd expected. Kate knew he'd written for Edwin for a good ten years before she'd taken over working with him, yet he didn't look to be more than thirty-two or-three. That meant he'd been writing professionally since his early twenties.
He was also shockingly handsome. His hair was as dark as night, his eyes a silver blue that almost seemed to reflect the porchlight, his features sharp and strong. He was tall and surprisingly muscular for a man with such a sedentary career. His shoulders bespoke a laborer more than an intellectual. Kate couldn't help but be impressed. Even the scowl on his face didn't detract from his good looks.
Without any effort on her part, the smile on Kate's face gained some natural warmth and she said, "It's me again. I haven't eaten yet, and I thought perhaps you'd join me for a meal on the company and we could discuss"
"No. Please remove yourself from my doorstep." Then Lucern Argeneau closed the door once more.
"Well, that was more than just a 'no'," Kate muttered to herself. "It was even a whole sentence, really." Ever the optimist, she decided to take it as progress.
Raising her hand, she pounded on the door again. Her smile was somewhat battered, but it was still in place when the door opened for the third time. Mr. Argeneau reappeared, looking less pleased than ever to find her still there. This time, he didn't speak but merely arched an eyebrow in question.
Kate supposed that if his speaking a whole sentence was progress, his reverting to complete silence had to be the oppositebut she determined not to think of that. Trying to make her smile a little sunnier, she cleared her throat and said, "If you don't like eating out, perhaps I could order something in and"
"No." He started to close the door again, but Kate hadn't lived in New York for five years without learning a trick or two. She quickly stuck her foot forward, managing not to wince as the door banged into it and bounced back open.
Before Mr. Argeneau could comment on her guerilla tactics, she said, "If you don't care for takeout, perhaps I could pick up some groceries and cook you something you like." For good measure she added, "That way we could discuss your fears, and I might be able to alleviate them."
He stiffened in surprise at her implication. "I am not afraid," he said.
"I see." Kate allowed a healthy dose of doubt to creep into her voice, more than willing to stoop to manipulation if necessary. Then she waited, foot still in place, hoping that her desperation wasn't showing but knowing that her calm fagade was beginning to slip.
The man pursed his lips and took his time considering. His expression made Kate suspect he was measuring her for a coffin, as if he were considering killing her and planting her in his garden to get her out of his hair. She tried not to think about that possibility too hard. Despite having worked with him for years as Edwin's assistant, and now for almost a year as his editor, Kate didn't know the man very well. In her less charitable moments, she had considered just what kind of man he might be. Most of her romance authors were female. In fact, every other author under her care was female. Lucern Argeneau, who wrote as Luke Amirault, was the only man. What kind of guy wrote romances? And vampire romances at that? She had decided it was probably someone gay or someone weird. His expression at the moment was making her lean toward weird. Serial-killer-type weird.
"You have no intention of removing yourself, do you?" he asked at last.
Kate considered the question. A firm "no" would probably get her inside. But was that what she wanted? Would the man slaughter her? Would she be a headline in the next day's news if she did get in the door?
Cutting off such unproductive and even frightening thoughts, Kate straightened her shoulders and announced firmly; "Mr. Argeneau, I flew up here from New York. This is important to me. I'm determined to talk to you. I'm your editor." She emphasized the last word in case he had missed the relevance of that fact. It usually had a certain influence with writers, although Argeneau had shown no signs of being impressed so far.