"I am not doing it," Lucern announced, fury underlying his calm proclamation.
"Yes, you are." Marguerite Argeneau filled in another word in her daily crossword puzzle. She'd been working on the damned thing since he'd arrived.
Marguerite disliked the smell and noise of the city. Lucern's father, Claude, hadn't liked it any better. Besides which, living in the city meant moving every ten years to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the fact that they didn't age. Lucern's parents had avoided it all by purchasing several lots of land an hour outside of Toronto, and building their home in the midst of them. They thus had no neighbors near enough to be a concern, and needed not move at all if they did not wish. At least, they hadn't had to move in the thirty years since they'd built it.
Lucern now sat in the family mansion and watched his mother fill in another word. He had no idea why she bothered with the bloody crossword; centuries of living combined with a perfect memory made it less than challenging. Shrugging, he glared at her and repeated, "I am not doing it."
"You are."
"Am not."
"Are."
"Not."
"Are."
"All right, you two. Stop it," Bastien interrupted. He had ridden out to the Argeneau family home after Lucern had called him, ranting unintelligibly about being tricked and shouting that he was going to wring their precious mother's neck. Bastien hadn't really believed his brother would do it, but curiosity had made him rush out to see what would happen. He'd arrived just behind Lucern, entered the house on his brother's heels, and still didn't know what the man was upset about.
He really wanted to know. It was rare to see Lucern with the fire presently burning in his eyes. Grumpy, surly, impatient? Yes, Luc was often all of those. Impassioned with rage? No. Kate C. Leever had lit a fire under him the likes of which Bastien hadn't seen in his five hundred years. And Bastien was sure this had something to do with that inestimable editor. Luc had shouted her name like a curse several times while ranting on the phone. It was one of the few words Bastien had actually caught.
Turning to his brother, Bastien asked, "So what exactly is the problem, Luc? I thought you were willing to trade an interview with this Romantic Weekly magazine to get rid of Kate. What's happened to change that?"
"Romantic Times," Lucern corrected shortly. "And it isn't a bloody interviewthat's what changed it. It's a damned conference."
"A conference?" Bastien glanced at his mother suspiciously. "Did you know this?"
Marguerite Argeneau shrugged mildly, which was as close as she would come to a confession. "I don't see the problem. It's just a couple days in a hotel with some readers."
"Five days, mother," Lucern snapped. "Five days in a hotel with some five thousand fans. And then there are balls, book-signings and"
"One book-signing," his mother interrupted. "One book-signing with a couple hundred other writers there. You won't be the focus. You'll be lucky to get any attention at all."
Lucern was not calmed. "And what about the balls and awards dinners and"
"All the functions are held in the hotel. You won't need to risk the sun. And"
"I won't need to risk the sun because I'm not doing it!" Lucern roared. "I can't go."
"You are going," Marguerite began firmly, but Bastien interrupted her. "Why can't you go?" he asked Lucern.
"It's in the states, Bastien," his brother said grimly. "I can't possibly get blood through Customs at the airport. And I can't go without blood for five days." He could, actually, but not very comfortably. Cramps would cripple him. and his body would begin to consume itself.
Bastien frowned. "I could ship blood to you once you're there. We do such things all the time."
"There. You see!" Their mother crowed with triumph. "You are going."
"Thanks, Brother." Lucern sneered at the younger man, then glared ferociously at his mother. "I am not going!" he said again.
"You gave your word."
"I was tricked into giving my word. You led me to believe it was an interview."
"I never said it was an interview," Marguerite argued. Then she stressed, "You gave your word you would go and you are going."
"I may have given my word, but I didn't sign a contract or anything. I am not going."
Marguerite jerked upright as if he had slapped her. Her words were slow and cold. "A man's word used to be his bond."
Lucern flinched, but he growled, "It used to be. Times have changed. In this world, a man doesn't have to do anything unless it is in writing."
"In this day and age, that's true," she allowed, eyes narrowing on him. "But that isn't how you were raised, Lucern Argeneau. Are you no longer a man of your word?"
Luc gritted his teeth, his fury and helplessness combining. His mother was pulling out the big guns, questioning his honor and using his full name to show her shame that he would even suggest going back on his word. Could he really disappoint her?
Kate chewed on her thumbnail and paced the carpet by the arrivals gate. Her plane had arrived early and Lucern Argeneau's plane was late, which meant she'd been waiting for nearly two hours. And she wasn't even sure if Lucern was on the plane.
She had sent the tickets and all the information on the Romantic Times Conference the day after leaving Toronto. She hadn't received a letter back stating that Lucern would not be coming, but then neither had she received word that he would. For all Kate knew, he hadn't even read her damned letter. As usual. She could have calledshe had the numberbut Kate suddenly found she had a yellow streak. She hadn't called for fear that he would tell her where she could stick her tickets.
Groaning, she turned and paced back the way she'd come. It had been four weeks and three days since she'd left Toronto. She had been petted and congratulated that entire time in the offices of Roundhouse Publishing. Allison had been amazed that she had succeeded where Edwin had faileda nice little tidbit they had neglected to mention. It seemed her job hadn't been in jeopardy after all; but her convincing Lucern to attend the conference had raised her in their esteem. Allison was now positive that Kate "could get the job done." Her position was secure.
Barring any big screw-up on her part, she added to herself. Which would include Lucern's simply not showing up after all the money they had put into registering him, purchasing his first-class plane tickets, and securing the three-room suite she'd insisted on getting at the hotel. Kate had told Allison she'd promised Lucern these arrangements. And in a way she had; she'd promised him on the way out the door that she would be sure he didn't regret coming, and that she'd be with him at all times to ensure everything went well.
She'd considered how best to make him happy on the flight back to New York, and she'd continued to plan at home that night, thinking that if she got to the office on Monday to find a message from Lucern refusing to attend, she could pull all these special arrangements out to try to persuade him. It turned out she hadn't needed to persuade him, but she would still follow through on all the things she'd planned.
She would be glued to Lucern's side almost twenty-four hours a day, and when she couldn't be therefor instance, when he had to use the men's washroom, or when she had to slip away to the women'ssomeone else would be there. She had enlisted Chris Keyes, one of the two male editors at Roundhouse Publishing, to aid her in the endeavor.
She'd been prepared to beg, bribe and even resort to blackmail to get the senior editor to assist her, but in the end, she hadn't had to do any of that. Despite the fact that Chris had a slew of his own writers to look after at the conference, he had immediately agreed to help her.
Kate supposed the promise of his own room in a three-room suite, rather than sharing a normal two-bed room with Tom, the V.P. of Promotion, had helped. But C.K., as she sometimes called him, was also a big fan of Lucern's vampire series. Chris had asked a ton of questions about the man after Kate's return from Toronto, but she had just kept answering with, "You'll be meeting him soon. Wait and see." She'd been terrified that if she told him the truth, he'd refuse to help.
An increase in the noise level around her drew Kate's attention to a mass of people moving up the hall. The plane had arrived, and she was about to find out if Lucern had come. Kate prayed his mother had badgered him into it, but she wasn't at all sure even that formidable woman could manage to do so.
Hands fisted at her sides, Kate searched the crowd of approaching faces. The conference officially began on Wednesday; but she had booked Lucern on a Tuesday-evening flight to prevent his using his allergy to sunlight as an excuse not to come. She and Chris had flown in early to meet him. Their arrivals had been an hour apart, precluding Kate from risking going to the hotel and checking in and then returning to collect Lucern, so Chris had good-naturedly taken control of their baggage and headed to the hotel while Kate waited for Lucern's flight.
Mind you, had she realized that Lucern's flight was going to be delayed so long, she might have gone with Chris and stopped for a drink or two or three before returning. She was so nervous about this conference that she was developing a sour stomach. Or perhaps it was an ulcershe had heard that was a common editors' complaint.
Kate's thoughts died abruptly as her gaze settled on a man who had been somewhere near the back of the pack. She'd recognize anywhere that muscular frame and the majestic way he held his head. Lucern. He was bearing down on her, his long-legged stride quickly bringing him to the front of the disembarking passengers.
"Thank you. Marguerite," she whispered, not even caring that the man looked as surly as ever. She would expect nothing less. He was here, and that was all that mattered. A smile of relief stretching her lips, Kate moved forward to greet him.
"You came." She hadn't intended to speak those words, or for her relief to show, but so it was.
Lucern scowled. "I said I would. I'm a man of my word."
Kate's smile widened even further; then she glanced down at the suitcase, overnight bag, briefcase and portable computer he held. "Here, let me take those for you."
She relieved him of the briefcase and portable computer before he could stop her. He didn't appear pleased by her help.
"I can carry my own things, thank you," he said. His words were stiff, and he tried to retrieve the articles. Kate ignored the attempt and merely turned to lead the way out, babbling with determined cheer. "Chris went ahead to the hotel to check us in, so all we have to do is ride there and settle in. I arranged for your flight to be tonight because I recalled you were allergic to the sun. The best I could do was to have you leave late in the afternoon and arrive in the early evening, which I figured was better than leaving and arriving in the daytime. This works out nicely, though, because now we have the whole night to relax before the others show up tomorrow."
Lucern had been scowling at Kate's backher heart-shaped butt, actually, if he was honestbut at those words he jerked his eyes up to the back of her head and grimaced. He had wondered why his flight was booked for the night before the conference began, but he had just supposed it was what everyone did. Now he knew she'd done it out of concern for him. Or, more likely, concern that he would refuse to fly during daylight due to his "allergy." What a pain; now he had to be grateful.
"Here we are."
Lucern had been debating commenting on her kindness in having him fly at night, but gave up the idea as he saw the car she'd stopped beside. It was a black sedan, mini limo. She handed his portable and briefcase to the driver with a smile, then turned and tried to take Lucern's overnight bag while waiting for the driver to stow the items in the trunk. Lucern frowned and evaded her reaching hands. He moved to the trunk and put them in himself. The silly woman was trying to be helpful, but Lucern was used to things being the other way around. In the era in which he'd been raised and his attitudes formed, he was supposed to carry things for hernot allow her to carry his burden.
The driver closed the trunk and led the way to the back passenger door where Kate stood. Apparently, she didn't appreciate Lucern's gallantry in refusing her help. That fact was just as exasperating to Lucern. Someone should teach the silly woman that men were given the physical strength to bear the burdens in life. Women were given beauty to please the men. Deciding to ignore her, he followed her into the back seat when the driver opened the door, then fixed a dignified you-don't-exist-for-me look on his face and stared straight ahead.
The moment the door closed, he was enveloped in a cloud of her tantalizing perfume. He didn't know what it was she wore, but it should come with a warning: "Heady, and likely to cause confusion in those who smell it." He himself was certainly suffering confusion from it.
Annoyance overtook him. He'd been feeling betrayed for four weeks, ever since she'd rushed out of his house, and he'd been nursing that anger. Yet now, as the smell of Kate's perfume surrounded him, his anger was overwhelmed by an entirely different but equally passionate reaction.
Men suffered a terrible handicap, he decided with disgust as he found his anger edged out by lust. The amazing thing was that it had taken him six hundred years to recognize that fact.
"I tried to do everything I could to make sure this was as comfortable for you as possible," Kate said, drawing his attention. "What I'd like to do is outline what I've arranged. Then, if you have any suggestions, perhaps I could take care of them tonight so we'll be all ready before everyone else arrives. Okay?"
Lucern grunted assent, then wished he hadn't when she dug out a file from her capacious purse and shifted closer so that he could watch her open it. He really didn't want her closer. The scent of her was upsetting enough to his equilibrium; the feel of her was going to be
Lucern inhaled deeply and sighed as she opened the file and unintentionally brushed his arm with hers. Then his gaze landed on the top page of the agenda. He frowned. "According to this, the conference started on Sunday."
"No," Kate said. Then she corrected herself, "Well, yes. They had some events for anyone who wanted to join ahead of time, but the official start isn't until tomorrow."
"Hmm." Lucern decided to keep his mouth shut. He should be grateful that she hadn't forced him to go through the pre-conference crap, too.
"So," his editor said with a return of her determined cheer. "Tomorrow starts with the morning walk with cover models. Then the brunch"
"What the deuce is a morning walk with cover models?" Lucern interrupted. He'd already seen the agenda, of courseboth on the internet and in the paperwork she'd sent him. But nothing had described any of the listed events.
"Er well, actually, I'm not sure," she admitted. She cleared her throat, her smile a tad strained. "But it doesn't matteryou don't have to attend."
"I don't?" He peered at her suspiciously. Something she didn't want him to attend? That seemed strange. He had been sure that she was going to drag him to every single function.
"No. Your first official event will be the Welcome Brunch and R.T. Awards."
Lucern nodded. Those didn't sound so bad. He could eat. Although the awards part would probably be boring.
"Then there's the Reader Hospitality Suite and discussion," she went on. "Allison and Chuck want you there."
"Who are Allison and Chuck?"
"Allison is the head editor, my boss," Kate explained. "And Chuck is the company president. They'll definitely expect you to attend the Hospitality Suite."
Lucern grimaced. "What is it?"
"It's" She appeared to be at a loss for a moment. "Well, each publishermost of them, anywayrents out a reception room at the hotel, and writers and editors talk to the readers who come in."
"You want me to talk to people?" he asked in horror. Dear God, he should have done the signing! That would have been less bother, just scribbling his name.
"Of course I want you to talk to people," Kate said with exasperation. "You can do it. I've seen you speak." She fell silent and stared at him, alarm growing on her face. She bit her lip. "Or maybe we can skip that. No, Allison and Chuck would have a fit. You have to go." She sighed heavily. "Oh, damn. This isn't good."
"No, it isn't," Lucern agreed with a nod. Then he jerked around with surprise as the door opened beside him. They had apparently arrived. Without his realizing it, the car had stopped, and the driver was now waiting for him to alight. Nodding his thanks, Lucern slid out then turned and took Kate's hand when she followed.
"We'll need to work on you tonight," she decided as she straightened next to him.
Lucern stiffened and dropped her hand. "Work on me?"
"Yes. Work on you," Kate repeated. They followed Lucern's luggage into the hotel. It was on a trolley, being pulled by a uniformed bellhop. Apparently the driver had seen to the luggage before opening the door for them.
"I don't need 'work,' " Lucern said irritably as they stopped at the elevator.
"Yes, Lucern, you do." Kate smiled sweetly at the bellhop as the doors opened, and he gestured for them to enter.
"I do not," Lucern insisted, following, squeezing himself up against Kate to leave room for the luggage trolley.
"Can we talk about this later?"
Kate gave an impatient nod at the bellhop and pushed the button for their floor. At least Lucern presumed it was their floor. He hadn't a clue, though she had said someone named Chris had already checked them in. He supposed this Chris was another editor. He wondered if she would be as annoying as Kate.
He glanced at the bellhop, confused at Kate's desire to put this off. The man was a servant, hardly worth worrying about. Although he didn't want to argue either. "No. There is nothing to discuss. I do not need to be worked on."
"You do," Kate insisted. "And I'm not going to talk about this now."
"There is nothing to talk about."
"There is," she snapped.
The bellhop gave a soft chuckle, and Lucern glared at him. There had been a time when servants knew their place and would have been deaf and dumb to such discussions. That time wasn't now. He constantly forgot how rude the world had become.
The doors opened and the bellhop moved the trolley out; then he led them down a long hall past countless doors. At the end he stopped, pulled out a card key, opened the door, then pushed the trolley in.
"Which room do these go in, ma'am?" he asked, pausing in the center of a large chamber set up as a living room.
His question drew another scowl from Lucern. He was the man; the fellow should have addressed the question to him.
"I'm not sure. Just set them here. We can manage, thanks." Kate accepted the card key from the fellow and handed him a tip, making Lucern scowl again, this time at himself. He was the man; he should have tipped the bellhop. He should be more on the ball. His only excuse was that it had been a long day. His flight had been at three p.m., but he'd had to leave for the airport at one to get through security. He had worn a business suit, hat and sunglasses, and slathered on sunscreen, but of course, some of the sunlight had got through. His body had sustained damage that his blood was already working to correct. He was feeling depleted and needed to feeda state he was beginning to associate with Kate Leever.
The click of the door closing drew his gaze back to her, and Lucern picked up their argument immediately. "I do not need to be worked on."
"Lucern," his editor began wearily. Suddenly losing her temper, she said grimly, "Look. You're named after a dairy product, you look like an Angel wannabe, and you talk like a bad Bela Lugosi. You need work!"
"Wow, Kate."
Lucern turned to see a tall, slender blond man entering the room. He was clapping his hands slowly, an irrepressible grin on his face. "You'll have to give me pointers on handling writers. I've never seen it done quite like that."
"Oh. Chris." Kate sighed unhappily.
"This is Chris?" Lucern asked with dismay.
His editor stiffened again but said simply, "Yes."
"You never said he was a man. Make him leave."
Kate's eyes narrowed on him, fury burning out of them. "Look, Lucern"
"Nope," Chris interjected. He put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Kate, he doesn't sound like Bela Lugosi. The smarmy accent is missing."
Kate's ire turned on her coworker. "I meant he uses old-fashioned terminology."
Chris merely arched an eyebrow. A moment later he added, "And his hair's too dark for him to be an Angel wannabe."
"Shut up! Stay out of this."
The editor laughed, apparently unoffended. "And Allison and Chuck were worried you couldn't handle this guy."
"Who is this gentleman?" Lucern asked Kate stiffly. If she said it was her husband, boyfriend or lover, he feared he might have to perform some violence.
"Chris Keyes," Kate announced. "He's an editor at Roundhouse, too. Chris Keyes, meet Lucern Argeneau, aka Luke Amirault, the vampire writer."
"A pleasure, Mr. Argeneau." The lanky editor stepped forward and offered his hand in welcome.
Lucern automatically shook, but he asked, "You're an editor?"
Keyes nodded.
"What do you edit?"
"Romance, like Kate."
Lucern nodded slowly, then asked hopefully, "Are you a homosexual?"
Chris Keyes's eyes rounded in shock.
"Lucern!"
Lucern glanced at Kate with annoyance. She sounded just like his mother when she barked like that. Taking in the way his editor was flushing and then paling by turns, he decided not to mention it.
A sudden burst of laughter drew his gaze back to Chris. The young man's stunned expression had given way to a deep belly laugh. Lucern waited patiently for him to recover himself.
When Chris's mirth had died down to a chuckle, he asked, "What made you ask such a question?"
"You are a romance editor. That is a woman's job."
"Ah." Chris grinned. "But you write them. Are you gay?"
Lucern stared for a moment, then grinned, caught. "Touchi."
Kate was not amused. Moving between the two, she glared up at Lucern. "Chris has kindly agreed to help look after you this weekend. You will not be rude to him." She scowled and added, "At least, no ruder than you usually are."
Lucern scowled back. "I do not need to be looked after."
"You"
"Kate," Chris interrupted. "It's getting late. If you still want to go to Bobbi's kick-off party, you should probably"
"Oh, damn!" Kate glanced at her watch. She seemed to forget all about Lucern and asked her coworker,
"Where did you put my stuff? It's a Western theme. I have to change."
"I put it in that room." Chris pointed to a door on their right. "I figured if you didn't like it, we could shuffle later."
Kate merely nodded. Rushing into the room, she slammed the door behind her. Chris just shook his head.
Lucern scowled after Kate. If she expected him to go to this party, she had another think coming. He had no intention of going to a Western themed party after just flying in.
"So, I guess it's you and me tonight, Luc," Chris said cheerfully. Lucern suddenly rethought the party. Kate would be there. Not this guy.
"Why are you here?" he asked the male editor.
Chris grinned. "I'm supposed to keep you safe. When Kate can't be around. Like tonight."
"Keep me safe?" Lucern echoed. "From what?"
Chris pursed his lips and considered. Then he grinned. "You've never been to a Romantic Times conference, have you, Luc?"
Lucern shook his head. He gave a start of surprise when Chris clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the bar in the corner. "Let's have a drink while I tell you. You're going to need it."
Lucern fretted as he watched Chris pour the glass of Scotch he requested. He was beginning to believe this conference would be even more of a pain than he'd feared.
"There you are." Chris handed him his drink. The editor then gestured for them to move to the couch, which was set against the walled window.
Lucern moved toward it, suddenly thinking how hungry he was. "Was there a package delivered here for me?"
"Not that I know of. I'm sure they would have mentioned it when I signed in," Chris answered. He settled in the room's one chair, leaving the couch to Lucern. "But then, I don't know that your name is registered for this room."
Lucern stiffened. Was he not to be the man in any of these situations?
The bedroom door Kate had disappeared through suddenly opened, and she rushed out. Lucern automatically got to his feet at her entrance, forgetting about his hoped for blood delivery. He gaped at the woman. She was wearing the tightest pair of hip-hugging jeans he had seen in all his born days. They were complemented by knee-high cowboy boots, a checkered shirt, a fringed suede jacket, and a cowboy hat that looked like it had seen rough use. She looked sexy as hell.
"Katie," Chris called. "Did you put Lucern's name on the room?"
Kate glanced over with surprise. "Of course not. I was afraid someone might connect the names Lucern Argeneau and Lucern Argentus and figure out this was his room. The whole idea of this suite was so that none of his fans could find him. Why?"
"Luc was expecting a delivery. I guess they would have turned it away if they didn't think he was here."
Kate turned an apologetic gaze on Lucern. "Sorry. Just call and have them deliver it to my name. Okay?"
Lucern nodded slowly, his eyes feasting on her. She blushed under his perusal, then said, "I'll try not to be out late. Chris will look after you until I get back. Anything you want, he's the man to go to, okay?"
Lucern nodded again, his tongue stuck on the roof of his mouth.
"Chris." She turned her attention to her coworker. "Make him watch some TV. Maybe he can update the way he speaks by watching it."
The other editor laughed. "Katie, dear, if watching television hasn't changed his speech before now, one night is hardly going to do it."
"He doesn't have a TV," she explained dryly. "At least, I didn't see one." She turned a curious gaze to Lucern. "Do you have one?"
He shook his head. Television, in his opinion, rotted the brain.
"I didn't think so," she said with satisfaction. She instructed her friend "Make him watch it. I'll see you guys later."
Both men were silent until the door closed behind Kate. Lucern sank back onto the couch.
"Why did you stand?" Chris asked curiously.
"A lady had entered the room," Lucern answered absently. His vision was still full of Kate the cowgirl. He usually preferred women in more feminine dress, but there had been nothing masculine about Kate in that outfit.
"You're kidding about the TV, right?" Chris asked. "Do you really not have one?"
"No. Never have."
"Man!" Chris picked up the remote control off the table. Lucern recognized it; he had one for his stereo system at home. This was to the television. The editor clicked it and grinned. "You're in for a treat, Luc. You're gonna love television."
Lucern grimaced. He very much doubted that he would love television. He was more a theater type of guy. Old habits died hard.
