Single White Vampire (Argeneau #3)

Single White Vampire (Argeneau #3) Page 4

Kate poked around.

She didn't mean to. In fact, she had made plans for the day which definitely did not include poking aroundbut, well, the best-laid plans and all that. They always went awry.

Kate woke up at ten a.m. Her first thought was to wonder where she was. Her second thoughtonce she recalled where she was and whywas "Oh, shit, the alarm didn't go off." Sitting up in bed, she reached for the alarm clock to look it over. It was set to the off position. Kate frowned at the thing, sure she had reset it after checking on Lucern the first time. She distinctly recalled resetting it and turning it on. But it was off. She set it back with a frown. Had she woken up the second time just to roll over and turn it off? That must be it, she realized and grimaced to herself.

"Way to go, Leever. The one excuse you had to stay here, the one opportunity to ingratiate yourself with the man, and you blew it." Her thinking had been that surely he couldn't oust her after she'd gone to the trouble of rousing herself every hour to be sure he was all right. But now that she'd failed at her task, he'd have her out of there by noonif he hadn't written all night as he'd claimed he was going to do. If he had written all night, he might not wake up until two or three o'clock. Which meant she'd be out of there by three or four.

"Good show, Katie." She pushed the bedsheet aside and slipped out of bed. Now she'd have to come up with another good excuse to stay until she convinced Lucern Argeneau to cooperate.

Kate pondered the problem while she showered, while she dried off, while she dressed, while she brushed her teeth, while she fiddled with her hair and while she dabbed on a touch of face powder. At last she gave it up as a lost cause until after she'd eaten. She always thought better on a full stomach.

Leaving the guest room, she paused in the hallway and stared at the door opposite her own. Maybe she should check on her host. She hadn't done her checking through the night. The man might be lying comatose on his office floor.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully over the matter, then shook her head. Nope. Not a good idea, she decided. She'd neglected her duty to check on him last night; the last thing she wanted was to wake him up before she'd found some way to redeem herself.

Turning on her heel, she moved as quietly as she could to the stairs and down them. Her first stop was the kitchen. She put coffee on, then surveyed the contents of the fridge. Though she knew every single item in it, it was fun to look at all those goodies and pretend she might have something greasy and bad for her like bacon and eggs. Of course, she didn't. She settled for the less satisfying but healthy grapefruit and cereal. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and sipped it as she peered out the window into Lucern's backyard. It was a large, neat, tidy lawn surrounded by trees, obviously professionally kept. Just as the house was.

Lucern's home bespoke wealth and class, both inside and out. It was large and filled with antiques, but outside was the true treat. The house was set on a good-sized property surrounded by trees and grass, all well kept and set up to disguise the fact that the home sat on the edge of a huge metropolis. It was gorgeous and restful, and Kate enjoyed it as she drank her coffee.

Pouring herself another cup, she wandered out of the kitchen and strolled up the hall, her mind searching for some plot to keep her in the house for at least another night. She really had to convince Lucern to do at least one of the interviews. Kate suspected he would never agree to do the book-signing tour and she had already let go of that idea, but surely he could be persuaded to do a couple of interviews. Possibly over the phone or via the Internet? A couple of her other authors had done it via e-mail. The interviewer sent an e-mail with the questions, the author answered by e-mail. Or there were the various messenger services; she'd heard of authors doing interviews that way as well. Geez, surely that wouldn't be such a big deal? Lucern wouldn't even have to leave his house.

She was about to turn into the living room with her coffee when she spotted the box on the hall table. Kate recognized it at once. She'd packed the damned thing full of fan letters and sent it herself. Changing direction, she continued up the hall to the table and glared down at the box. She'd sent it three months ago! Three months! And he hadn't even bothered to open the damned thing, let alone answer any of the letters it held.

"Damned man," she muttered. "Ungrateful, stupid wonderful man." The last was said with a dawning smile as she recognized her excuse for staying another night. "Oh," she breathed. "God bless your stupid hide and rude ways."

Salsa music. That was the first thing Lucern heard upon awaking. He recognized the tune; it was a hit at the moment. A brief image flashed in his head of a thin, handsome Latin man dancing around on a stage in dark clothes.

The music made it easy for him to find Kate. He merely followed the sound to his living room, where he paused in the doorway to gape at the shambles the room had become while he slept. The room that had been neat and tidy when he went to bed was now awash in paper. Every available surface had open letters and envelopes piled on it. Kate C. Leever boogied around a box in the center of the mess, pulling letters out, opening them, and gyrating to one pile or another to add the letter to it before boogying back for another.

"You poked!" he roared.

Kate, who had been doing some sort of bump and grinda rather sexy bump and grind, to be honestwith the half-empty box, gave a squeak of alarm. She whirled toward the door, upsetting the box and sending it to the floor.

"Now look what you made me do!" she cried, flushing with embarrassment. She bent to gather up the box and its contents.

"You poked," Lucern repeated. Moving forward, he towered over her as she scooped up the escaped envelopes.

"I" She peered up at him guiltily, then irritation took over her expression. Standing, she glared back. "I hardly needed to poke. The box was right there on the hall table. I noticed it in passing."

"I am not sure, but I believe it is illegal to open someone else's mail. Is it not a federal offense?"

"I'm quite sure that doesn't apply when it's mail you sent yourselfand I did send this box. Three months ago!" she added grimly.

"But you did not write the letters inside it."

Kate scowled, then turned her attention to throwing the unopened envelopes back in the box. She explained, "I saw that you hadn't even opened it yet, and thought perhaps I could help. It was obvious you were overwhelmed by the number of letters."

"Ha! I had no idea of the number of letters. I hadn't opened it."

"No, you hadn't," she conceded after a moment. Then she asked, "What is it with you and mail? I've never met anyone who left mail lying about for months like this. It's no wonder you were so slow to answer my letters."

Before he could respond, she turned and added,

"And how could you ignore these letters like you did?" She waved at the mini-towers built around the room. "These are your readers, your fans! Without them, you're nothing. They pay good money for your books, and more good money to tell you they enjoyed them. Your books wouldn't be published without readers to read them. How can you just ignore them like this? They took the time and trouble to write you. They say wonderful things about you, your books, your writing! Didn't you ever admire someone's work or enjoy it so much you wanted to tell them of your appreciation? You should be grateful they've taken the trouble to do so!"

Lucern stared at her with surprise. She was quite impassioned, her face flushed, her chest heaving. And what a nice chest it was, he noted. She had a nice figure altogether, even in the comfortable jeans and T-shirt she'd chosen to wear today.

All of which was interesting to note, but not very useful at the moment. He reprimanded himself and took a moment to clear his throat before trying to speak. The problem was, he couldn't recall what she'd said or what he should say in response.

"Ha!" There was triumph on her face. "You have no answer to that one, do you? Because it's true. You have been terribly lax in tending to this matter, and I've decidedout of the goodness of my heartto help you. You needn't thank me," she added in a rather self-righteous tone. Then she grabbed and opened another letter.

Lucern found a grin pulling at his lips as he watched her. He didn't have to be able to read her mind to know that this was not out of the goodness of her heart, but an attempt to remain in his home long enough to convince him to do some of her publicity stuff. He decidedout of the goodness of his heartto let her stay long enough to help him with the letters. He hadn't intended to answer them. He didn't know any of these people and it was a burdensome task, but now Well, her tirade had actually reached him. To some degree.

"Very well. You may help me with the letters," he announced.

Kate shook her head at Lucern Argeneau's magnanimity. "Well! How grand of you to allow me to" She paused. Her sneering words were a wasted effort; Lucern had left the room. Damned man! He was the most frustrating, irritating And what was with his proper speech all the time? The man had antique phrasing and a slight accent that she couldn't quite place. Both of which were beginning to annoy her.

She was just turning back to the box to continue sorting the letters into categories when a series of loud chimes rang through the house. Recognizing it to be the doorbell, she hesitated, then dropped the letters and went to answer. She opened the front door to find a uniformed man on the other side, a cooler stamped "A.B.B." in hand.

"Hi." He stopped chewing the gum in his mouth long enough to grin at her, showing off a nice set of white teeth. "You must be Luc's editor."

Kate lifted her eyebrows. "Er, yes. Kate. Kate C. Leever."

The man took the hand she held out and squeezed it warmly. "Aunt Maggie was right. You're a cutey."

"Aunt Maggie?" Kate asked in confusion.

"Luc's mom and my aunt. Marguerite," he added when she continued to look confused, but it didn't help Kate much. The only people she'd met since arriving were the pair who had been leaving when she got out of the taxi, and the woman certainly hadn't been old enough to be Luc'ser, Lucern'smother. Kate shrugged that concern aside as the other connotations of what he'd said sank in. "You're Lucern's cousin?"

"Yes, ma'am. Our dads are brothers." He grinned, making it hard for her to see a resemblance. Oh, this man was tallish and had dark hair like Lucern, but Luc didn't smile, and this young man hadn't stopped smiling since she'd opened the door. It was hard to believe they were related. "I'm quite a bit younger though."

"You are?" she asked doubtfully. She would have placed both men around the same age.

"Oh, yes." He grinned. "I'm centuries younger than Lucern."

"Thomas."

Kate glanced over her shoulder. Lucern was coming up the hall, a scowl on his face as he glanced from her to his cousin. She sighed inwardly at his obvious displeasure. Apparently, he didn't like her answering his door. Geez, the guy was such a pain. Why couldn't Thomas here have written the vampire novels? He would have been much easier to deal with, she was sure.

"Here you are, Cousin." Thomas didn't seem surprised or disturbed by Lucern's expression. He held out the cooler. "Bastien said to get this here pronto. That you were seriously lacking and in need," he added with a grin and a wink.

"Thank you."

Lucern actually smiled at his cousin, Kate noted with surprise. And his face didn't crack and fall off.

"I'll return directly," Lucern added. As he turned toward the stairs he warned, "Try not to bite my guest. She can be provoking."

Kate scowled at her host's retreating back, then smiled reluctantly at Thomas's chuckle. She turned with a wry smile and asked, "Has he always been this irritable, or is it just me?"

"Just you," Thomas said. At her crestfallen expression, he started to laugh. Then he took pity on her and told the truth. "Nah. It isn't you. Lucern is kind of surly. Has been for centuries. Although he seems to be in a good mood today. You must be having a good influence on him."

"This is a good mood?" Kate asked with disbelief. Thomas just laughed again.

"Here you are," Lucern called. He jogged down the steps and handed his cousin's cooler back to him. "Give Bastien my thanks."

"Will do." Then Thomas nodded, gave Kate another wink, and turned to walk off the porch.

Kate glanced at the driveway and the truck parked in it. "A.B.B. Deliveries" was stamped on the side, the same as the cooler, she noted. Lucern maneuvered her out of the way and closed the door.

"What ?" she began curiously, but Lucern saved her from proving just how rude and nosy she could be. He turned away and started back up the hall before she could ask the questions trembling on her lips.

"I thought that, as there are so many letterstoo many to answer individually, reallywe could divide them into categories and come up with a sort of form letter for each. Then you could just add a line to each response to make it more personal."

Lucern grunted and took another sip of the coffee Kate had made while making lunch. Well, it had been her lunch, his breakfast. Although, if he counted the bag of blood he'd sucked down while stacking the rest Thomas had delivered in the small refrigerator in his office, he supposed the meal could count as his lunch, too. They had since moved to the living room, and he was seated on the couch while she explained her plans for his letters.

"I'll take that to mean you think my plan is brilliant and agree to cooperate," Kate said in response to his grunt. Because it seemed to annoy her, and because he liked the way she flushed when she was annoyed, Lucern grunted again.

As he expected, her cheeks pinkened with blood and her eyes sparked with anger, and Lucern decided that Kate C. Leever was a pretty little thing when angry. He enjoyed looking at her.

And despite her unhappiness with him, the irritation on her face suddenly eased and she commented, "You have more color today. I guess there was no lasting damage from that head wound after all."

"I told you I was fine," Luc said.

"Yes, you did," she agreed. Then she looked uncomfortable and said, "I'm sorry I didn't check on you after that first time. I intended to, but I didn't hear the alarm go off again. I must have turned it off in my sleep or something."

Lucern waved the apology away. He had turned the alarm off himself, so she had nothing to apologize for. And he didn't think she'd appreciate knowing that he'd crept into her room while she was sleeping. She most definitely wouldn't want to know that after finishing the task, he'd found himself standing at the side of the bed just watching her sleep for a while, staring with fascination at her innocent expression in sleep, watching the rise and fall of the bunnies on her flannel nightgown as she breathed. How he'd wanted to pull the top of that oh-so-proper nightgown away from her throat to see the pulse beating there. No, she definitely wouldn't want to know all that, so he kept it to himself and sipped his coffee again.

The drink was bitter, but an oddly tasty brew. Lucern couldn't think why he'd avoided it all these years. True, he'd been warned that the stimulant in coffee would hit his body twice as hard as a human's, but he really hadn't noticed any effects yet. Of course, he'd only had a couple sips so far. Perhaps he shouldn't risk any more. He set the cup down.

"So, what are we doing?" he asked abruptly, to get Kate off the topic of not waking up to check on him last night.

"Well, I've been dividing the letters into categories. A lot of them have similar themes or questions, such as requests as to whether you'll write Lucern's or Bastien's story next," she explained. "So I've been putting all those asking that question in one pile. That way, you can write a form letter for each pile, reducing the letters you write to twenty or so rather than hundreds and hundreds."

"Of course, it would be nice if you read each letter and wrote a line or two to personalize your response," she added, sounding tentative.

Lucern supposed she thought that the idea of all that work would annoy him. Which it did. He couldn't help but grumble, "I did not suffer these difficulties with my other books."

"Other books?" She blinked in confusion, then said, "Oh. You mean your historical texts. Well, that was different. Those were nonfiction. Most of them are used in universities and such. Students rarely write fan letters."

Lucern grimaced and gulped down another mouthful of coffee. It helped stop him from telling her that his novels were nonfiction as well, and that they were just peddled as vampire romance.

"Anyway, I think we have enough categories to make a start. I can tell you what each category is, and you can compose a sort of general response to each while I continue to sort the rest of the letters," she suggested.

Nodding his acquiescence, Lucern crossed his arms and waited.

"Wouldn't you like to get a pen and paper or something?" she asked after a moment. "So you don't forget any of them? There are at least twenty categories and"

"I have an excellent memory," Lucern announced. "Proceed."

Kate turned in a slow circle, apparently trying to decide where to start. "Dear God, he sounds like that bald guy in The King and I," he heard her mutter.

Lucern knew he wasn't supposed to hear that, but he had spectacular hearing. He quite enjoyed her exasperation, so he added to it by commenting, "You mean Yul Brynner."

She jerked around to eye him with alarm, and he nodded. "He played the king of Siam, and did an excellent job of it."

Kate hesitated; then, apparently deciding that he wasn't angry, she relaxed a bit and even managed a smile. "It's one of my favorite movies."

"Oh, did they make a movie of it?" he asked with interest. "I saw it live on stage on opening night."

When she appeared rather doubtful, he realized that admitting to seeing the Rodgers and Hammerstein Broadway showwhich had premiered in 1951, if he wasn't mistakenwas rather dating himself. As he looked to be in his mid-thirties, it was no wonder she appeared taken aback. Clearing his throat, he added, "The revival of course. It hit Broadway in 1977, I believe."

Her eyebrows rose. "You must have been all of what? Seven? Eight?"

Unwilling to lie, Lucern merely grunted. He added, "I have an excellent memory."

"Yes. Of course you do." Kate sighed and picked up a letter. She read aloud, " 'Dear Mr. Argeneau. I read and adored Love Bites, volumes one and two. But the first was my favorite. You truly have a talent! The medieval feel to that novel was so gritty and realistic that I could almost believe you were there.'" Kate paused and glanced up. "All the letters in this stack are along that line, praising you for the realism of your writing and the fact that it reads as if you were actually there."

When Lucern merely nodded, she frowned. "Well?"

"Well, what?" he asked with surprise.

"That reader is right."

"That reader is right?" She gaped at him. "That's what you're going to write? 'Dear reader, You're right?'"

Lucern shrugged mildly, wondering why she was raising her voice. The reader was right. His books did read as if he'd been there in medieval times. Because he had been. Not during the precise time period when his parents met, but not long afterwardand in those days, change was slow enough that little had differed.

He watched his editor slam the letter back on the pile and move on to another. She muttered the whole time about him being an arrogant jerk, and added other uncomplimentary descriptions. "Insensitive" and "lacking in social skills" were just two. All of which Lucern knew he wasn't supposed to hear.

He wasn't offended. He was six hundred years old. A man gained some self-confidence in that time. Lucern supposed that to most people he would seem arrogant, possibly even a jerk. Insensitive certainly, and he knew his social skills were somewhat rusty. Etienne and Bastien had always been better at this social stuff. Yet, after years of living as a reclusive author, he was terribly lacking and knew it.

Still, he couldn't see any good reason to sharpen those social skills. He was at that stage in life where impressing someone seemed like a load of bother.

He'd taken a waitress for dinner once who'd explained the way he felt rather nicely. She'd said, "You can go along, working your shift and everything's fine. Most of the customers are pretty good, though there might be the occasional bad one. But sometimes you have that night where you get a real nasty customer, or even two or three in a row, and they bring you down, make you tired and miserable, feeling like the whole human race sucks. Then a baby might coo and smile at you, or another customer will say "Rough night?" with a sympathetic smile. Then your mood picks up and you'll realize maybe people aren't so bad."

Well, Lucern had suffered a couple of bad decades, and he was feeling tired and depressed and as if the whole human race rather sucked. He didn't have the energy or desire to put up with people. He just wanted to be left alone. That was why he'd started writinga solitary pursuit that kept him busy and took him into much more pleasant worlds.

He knew that all it would take was someone to smile and say "rough decade?" to change that. Someone like Kate. As much as he'd resisted having to deal with her, he'd begun to enjoy her company. She'd even made him smile several times.

Realizing the path his thoughts were taking, and that they were rather warmer than he was comfortable feeling for his unwanted house guest, he drew himself up short and began to scowl. Dear God, what had he been thinking? Kate C. Leever was a stubborn, annoying woman who had done nothing but bring chaos to an orderly existence. He

" 'Dear Mr Argeneau,'" she read grimly, drawing Lucern out of his thoughts. " 'I've read your vampire novels and enjoyed them immensely. I have always been fascinated with vampirism and read everything on the subject voraciously. I just know that there really is such a thing, and suspect you yourself really are one. I would love to be one. Would you please turn me into a vampire, too?'" Kate rolled her eyes and stopped reading, glancing at him. "What would you say to her?"

"No," he said firmly.

Kate threw the letter down with a snort. "Why does that answer not surprise me? Although I suppose it would be ridiculous to try to explain to someone of that ilk that you really aren't a vampire, that there truly is no such thing, so you couldn't possibly 'change' her." She laughed and moved on to the next pile. Looking at the first few letters there, she added, "It would be kinder just to tell her to go to her local psychologist to see if he couldn't help her with her reality problem."

Lucern felt his lips twitch, but he didn't say anything, merely waited as Kate settled on the next letter.

" 'Dear Mr. Argeneau,'" she began. " 'I haven't read Love Bites, One, but I will, I guarantee it. I just finished Love Bites, Two, and thought it was wonderful. Etienne was so sweet and funny and sexy that I fell in love with him even as Rachel did. He's my dream man.'" Kate paused and glanced up expectantly. "What would you say to those letters?"

That was easy enough. "Etienne is taken."

His editor threw her hands up in the air. "This isn't a joke, Lucern! You can't just" She paused as the doorbell chimed, then turned away with a sigh as Lucern reluctantly stood to answer it. He already knew who it would be. Thomas had delivered the blood, which left the only other company he ever got: his family. And since Etienne and Rachel were busy with wedding preparations, and Bastien, Lissianna and Gregory would all be at work at this hour, the only person it could be was his

"Mother." His greeting was less than enthusiastic as he opened the door to find Marguerite Argeneau standing there. He really had no desire to have his mother and Kate Leever in the same room; it would definitely give the older woman ideas. And since he already suspected she tended in those ideas' direction, he didn't think it was good to encourage her. But what could he do? She was his mother.

"Luc, darling." Marguerite kissed him on both cheeks, then pushed past him into the house. "Are you alone, dear? I thought I'd drop in for a spot of tea." She didn't wait for his answer, but followed her maternal instincts to the door of the living room and smiled brightly when she spotted Kate. "Well, it looks like I'm just in time. No doubt you two could use a break, too."

Lucern closed his front door with a resigned sigh, and his mother sailed fearlessly into his cluttered living room. The woman never simply stopped by for tea. She always had a purpose. And Luc very much feared he wasn't going to like her purpose in stopping by today. He just hoped to God she knew better than to try any of her matchmaking nonsense on him and Kate.