TALL DARK AND HUNGRY Page 0,41

back, and he had plans for doing that himself.

"I simply must talk to her. Either you'll have to have her call me or give me the number where she can be reached. These problems must be resolved now, to be sure we have the supplies we'll need on hand to have the arrangements made for the church and reception on time." It wasn't a request, but an imperious announcement.

Bastien scowled at the phone, then glanced at the clock on his desk. It would be midafternoon in Cali¬fornia. He doubted Kate would be in her hotel room just now, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to call and find out.

"Hold," he barked into the receiver, then put the man on hold. He next buzzed Meredith's desk, hop-ing she hadn't left for the night.

"Yes, sir?"

Bastien sighed in relief. "Put me through to Kate's hotel in California please, Meredith," he ordered. He added as an afterthought, "And thank you for not leaving yet."

He didn't wait to see if she knew what hotel Kate was in; Meredith knew everything. Besides, she'd told him that Kate had called the office earlier that day to leave a contact number in case they had to reach her.

"Miss Leever on line two, sir," Meredith an¬nounced a moment later,

"Thank you." Bastien pushed the button for that line, and was immediately greeted by an anxious Kate.

"Meredith gave me a quick rundown of the prob¬lem. She says you have Roberto on the other line. Can you conference-call us?"

Bastien blinked. He wasn't surprised that Mered¬ith had given her a rundown; doing so saved him some time and trouble, which was what his secretary did best. And fortunately, to ensure that someone would call him back, Bastien knew the florist had explained the problem to Meredith when he'd called earlier that day. His surprise was at the panic appar¬ent in Kate's voice. She had always seemed a per¬fectly sensible woman to him. This kind of reaction to the loss of one stupid type of flower and a silly urn seemed a bit excessive. Was the whole world going mad? Spring fever, he thought wisely. That was probably the explanation for his fascination with Terri, too.

"Bastien? Can you conference-call us?" Kate re¬peated impatiently.

"Er... yes," he said. "Hang on." He pushed the necessary series of buttons, then said, "Hello?"

"Yes," Lucern's fiancee said at the same time the florist squeaked, "Mr. Argeneau?"

"Oh, Roberto!" Kate cried with relief, apparently recognizing the man's voice.

Bastien sat back and twiddled his thumbs as the two went into crisis mode, both wailing in distress about the lost Sterling roses, then exchanging horri¬fied exclamations over the delayed urns. It was all just too much, they agreed. Horrible. Ghastly. Tragic.

"Tragic," Bastien agreed, just to keep them from thinking he wasn't listening or interested. He wasn't really, though. He wished they'd hurry up and settle down to discussing what had to be done to repair the damage, rather than wasting time lamenting over how this could positively ruin the entire wedding.

"Good Lord!" Terri gaped at the crammed kitchen cupboards. They had gone from completely bare to overflowing in the space of two days. Anything and everything a body could want now filled the shelves. If nothing else, Bastien's secretary was certainly thor¬ough, Terri decided as her gaze slid over the rows of neatly stacked and organized food. There was so much now, she couldn't decide what to have.

"Do you feel like anything specific, Vincent?" she asked.

"Are you on the menu?" he asked.

Terri laughed, not taking the comment seriously. Vinny was an actor. She had no doubt that flirting was second nature to him. He probably wasn't even aware when he did it anymore.

She closed the first cupboard and opened another, her brow knitting as she looked over more food. It had never occurred to her that confusion would be the result of so much choice. It was, though--which was a pain, because Terri wasn't even really hungry, but knew she'd be starving halfway through the play if she didn't have a little something now. But what to have? Vincent obviously wasn't going to be any help. Perhaps C.K. would be more useful.

Closing the cupboard door, Terri smiled absently at Vincent as she stepped around him and moved back out into the living room.

"What do you feel like having to eat?" she asked Chris, who had relocated himself from his guest room. He glanced away from the television to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Nothing. I'm stuffed," he said. "I've been eating all day, ever since the