Meant to Be Immortal (Argeneau #32) - Lynsay Sands Page 0,43

moment that he couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t been a child for well over a thousand years, but that didn’t stop his mother, Mary Delacort, from treating him like a ten-year-old when she felt the occasion called for it. Biting back his smile, Mac settled at the table. He could control himself for the length of time it would take to eat. He hoped.

“Well, dig in,” Mrs. Vesper said happily once they were all seated.

Mac began scooping food onto his plate, taking a healthy portion from each offering despite being unsure whether he would enjoy it. He was hungry, which was a new experience for him. Mac hadn’t eaten in more than a millennia before the cookies he’d had last night, not even at family parties and such where most immortals ate out of politeness. Food simply hadn’t held any appeal for him. Not until now. But then that was one of the signs of meeting a life mate: a sudden hunger for pleasures that had not tempted the immortal in ages, food and sex being the two most notable among them.

“This is very good, Mrs. Vesper. Thank you,” CJ said suddenly, and then added with concern, “I hope you didn’t have to cook twice. First for the others and now for us.”

“No, no. They were going to a special wedding party breakfast after the rehearsal so I didn’t have to cook for the others at all,” Mrs. Vesper assured her. “A bit of coffee and they were off.”

“Isn’t it usually a rehearsal dinner the night before?” CJ asked with surprise.

“Yes, but since most of their wedding party wouldn’t be arriving until late last night, they arranged it for breakfast this morning,” Mrs. Vesper explained. “Fortunately, the church was available for an early rehearsal, and the wedding is late afternoon, so they planned a fifteen-minute to half-hour rehearsal, followed by breakfast, and then the girls are heading to the local spa for manicures, pedicures, and to get their hair and make-up done, and so on. No doubt they’ll be there right up until it’s time to dress for the wedding.”

“And what will the men be doing?” CJ asked.

“Why, golfing, of course,” Mrs. Vesper said with amusement, and both women laughed, although Mac noted that the tone of their laughter was rather dry. He supposed it had to do with the fact that the women would spend the better part of the day having to primp for their roles in the wedding, while the men would relax on the golf course, probably having a couple of beers along the way, and then spend ten minutes in the shower, shave again if they had five-o’clock shadow, and then dress and head for the church.

It did seem unfair sometimes that women were expected to do so much to be considered attractive while men pretty much just had to show up. At least that’s what his sisters told Mac. He’d always responded that if they didn’t like it, then women could simply stop all the added primping. Since that usually resulted in one of them throwing something at him, he supposed he shouldn’t share that thought with CJ and Mrs. Vesper. He also supposed he shouldn’t share that, to his mind, the men would have the better day. He didn’t expect that would please them much either, so he simply concentrated on the food on his plate. It was all really delicious, an explosion of different tastes on his tongue that made him wonder why he’d lost interest in food for so long.

“I suppose what with helping out with the fire and all that you didn’t get to interview Officer Jefferson?”

Mac stopped eating and glanced up sharply at that question from Mrs. Vesper, his eyes sliding between the two women as CJ turned a startled gaze on the older woman.

“How did you know I was here to interview Officer Jefferson?” CJ asked with surprise.

“My friend Amelia Fairly is also friends with Audrey Dupree,” she explained. “And for weeks now Audrey has been complaining to anyone who would listen about—as she put it—some upstart agent from the Special Investigation Unit wanting to grill poor Jefferson over that little incident with that young ruffian Keith Kaye. So, when you said you work for the Special Investigation Unit, I knew it must be you.”

“Is Keith Kaye a ruffian?” CJ queried.

Mrs. Vesper considered the question seriously. “According to Audrey, Jefferson says he is and that he’s always up to no good. But no one else has said