TALL DARK AND HUNGRY Page 0,26

if you don't put him to bed," Vincent pointed out.

Bastien shrugged. Peering inside the bag, he saw thin slices of cooked potato with a sprinkling of red seasoning. "So, he gets a crick. He should have taken himself to bed."

Vincent chuckled, then gaped as Bastien took one chip out and bit cautiously into it. "What are you doing?"

"Trying the potato chips," he stated as he chewed the brittle delectation and pushed it around inside his mouth so that he could get the full flavor. It wasn't bad. Not bad at all. He didn't remember there being anything like this the last time he'd bothered with food.

"Dear God," his cousin breathed.

"What?" Bastien peered over in question.

"You're eating." Vincent stared in amazement, then added, "Food. You must be in love."

Bastien swallowed, and gave a bark of laughter. "Being in love isn't like being pregnant, Vincent. We don't eat when we're in love."

"Every one of us I know that has fallen in love has started eating again," his cousin said grimly.

Bastien considered as he swallowed, then popped another chip into his mouth. Lissianna had eaten. He wasn't sure about Etienne, but he knew Lucern was eating again. His chewing slowed, but then he shook his head and forced himself to relax. He'd only met the woman today. He couldn't be in love. Deeply in like, maybe, but not in love. And two chips did not really translate to "eating"--at least, not in his book.

"Speaking of food, when is the last time you really fed?"

There was no hiding his start of surprise at the question. Bastien knew Vincent wasn't referring to hunting, but simply to ingesting blood. And much to his amazement, Bastien suddenly realized that he hadn't done so since early that morning. He'd started to feel the need for blood while waiting at the airport for Terri's plane to arrive, but he hadn't thought of it since she hugged him. He'd been too distracted by everything else that was going on. Bastien refused to even think that his distraction was solely due to Terri's arrival. A lot had happened since then: Vin¬cent's being here, the housekeeper quitting, Kate's ar¬rival with her coworker, then leaving with Lucern. Lots, he assured himself.

Unfortunately that didn't explain why, now that things had settled down, he still wasn't feeling any particular desire for blood. Perhaps he just needed to see or actually smell the substance to stir his appetite. No doubt, once he went to his room and retrieved a bag of blood from the refrigerator built into his bed, he'd have his hunger back.

Bastien closed the chip bag, stuck it back with the rest of the food, and stood to carry it all to the kitchen. It was as he put the bag in the empty fridge that he recalled Terri stating the kitchen was empty of anything but a teapot, one cup, and tea bags. He closed the fridge door and opened a cupboard or two. Mrs. Houlihan had had her own small apartment in the back of the penthouse with a kitchen and every¬thing, and he didn't doubt for a minute that those cupboards were full of food and dishes and whatever else outfitted a good kitchen. This one, however, was completely bare.

He should really see that it was filled up, Bastien decided. As it was, there was nothing to give Terri in the morning but tea. And cold subs, he supposed, closing the kitchen cupboards and tugging his note¬pad from his pocket.

He made a notation as he left the room and started up the hall to the master suite. He would put his secretary on to this task, too--when he called the office on Monday about Mrs. Houlihan, and about his taking some time off. She'd hire whoever was necessary and see that his cupboards and fridge were well stocked by the time they got back from the museum that day. In the meantime, he'd just have to take Terri out to eat. It wouldn't be a prob¬lem, as there were tons of restaurants in New York.

"Whistling and smiling too. Also signs of a man in love."

Bastien glanced around and found Vincent leaning nonchalantly against the door to Lucern's room. His cousin stood, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest, watching him with taunting amusement.

"I wasn't whistling."

"Yes, you were."

Bastien didn't bother denying it again. In truth, he might have been whistling as he walked up the hall; he wasn't sure. If so, it had been an unconscious act. He kind