Single White Vampire (Argeneau #3)(18)

"A quick trip to my modiste, I think," Marguerite cut him off. Then she confided to Kate, "She always has something for just such an emergency. And a visit with my hairdresser will work magic on your hair, and we'll be set."

Kate felt herself relax, and could have hugged the woman. Marguerite was wonderful. Much too good to have a son like Lucern. The woman was clever, charming and a pleasure to be around. Unlike a certain surly man. Kate's gaze slid to Lucern, and she almost grinned at the misery on his face. She supposed she should feel guilty for forcing herself into his home and staying there, but she didn't. He was in serious need of assistance. He was terribly lacking in social skills and obviously spent way too much time alone. She was good for him—she was sure of it.

"Well, now that it's all settled, I'll be off." Marguerite was quickly on her feet and heading out of the kitchen—so quickly that Kate nearly got whiplash watching.

Getting up, she hurried after the woman. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Argeneau," she called as she jogged down the hall in pursuit.

Lucern's mother didn't just look young, she was as spry as could be for the mother of a man who had to be at least thirty-five. How old did that make her? Kate wondered. At least fifty-three. Impossible, she thought, but kept the thought to herself and merely added, "I really appreciate your generous offer to help me shop and—"

"Nonsense, dear. I'm grateful to you for being here to accompany Luc." Marguerite paused and allowed Kate to catch up. "Why, you should have seen the poor man at his sister's wedding. I've never seen Luc run so fast or hide so much. It's the ladies, you know. They tend to chase after him."

Kate's eyebrows flew up in patent disbelief at that.

A bubble of laughter burst from Marguerite. "Hard to believe when Luc is so curmudgeonly, isn't it? But I think it's the hunt that attracts them. He makes it obvious he isn't interested, and they react like hounds after a fox. With you there to act as his escort, he'll be able to relax and enjoy the celebration this time. And once he realizes that, he'll be grateful for your presence, too."

Kate didn't bother to hide her doubt that Lucern Argeneau could ever be grateful for anything. The man was more than curmudgeonly in her opinion.

"He may seem crusty on the outside, dear," Marguerite said solemnly, obviously reading her thoughts. "But he's rather like a toasted marshmallow, soft and mushy in the center. Very few people ever see that center, though." Leaving Kate to consider that, the older woman continued on to the door and opened it. "I shall pick you up after lunch. One o'clock. If that's all right with you?"

"Yes. But will that leave time to get everything done?" Kate asked with concern. In her experience, weddings were usually around two or three o'clock in the afternoon.

Marguerite Argeneau looked calm. "Oh, scads of time, dear. The wedding isn't until seven p.m."

"Isn't that rather late?" Kate asked with surprise.

"Late weddings are all the rage today. I hear Julia Roberts married her cameraman after midnight."

"Really? I hadn't heard that," Kate said faintly.

"Oh yes. She's started a trend. Till tomorrow then," Marguerite finished gaily. The woman then closed the door behind herself, leaving Kate standing in the hallway feeling rather as if she'd just survived a tornado.

Kate stood there for several minutes, just staring at the door, her mind whirring through everything she would need to do to be ready for this wedding, before the door to the kitchen opened and Lucern stalked out.

"I'll be in my office." His voice was short, his expression forbidding as he passed her on the way to the stairs.

Kate—always a smart girl when it came to matters of self-preservation—kept her mouth shut and merely watched him disappear up the stairs. He was angry, of course. Which was to be expected, but she hoped it would pass.

A door slammed upstairs. Hard.

Well, perhaps he wouldn't get over it tonight, but he would by tomorrow. She hoped. With a little help, maybe. She turned and peered at the mess in the living room. There was no way she was going to be able to get him to work on those letters tonight. Which she supposed was a good thing. She was beginning to fear that any letters he wrote were more likely to offend and scare readers than please them. She'd be doing him a big favor by composing the form letters herself and just having him sign them.

Kate grimaced at the idea. It meant a lot of work for her, and the readers were hardly likely to be all that happy. They'd certainly be happier with her meddling, however, than with receiving a letter that read:



Dear Reader.

No.

Sincerely,

Lucern Argeneau



Oddly enough, Kate found herself chuckling at the idea. He really was rather amusing in some ways, this author of hers. The problem was, he didn't mean to be.

Heaving a sigh, she turned into the living room to start to work.



Lucern grabbed a bag of blood from the small office refrigerator where he'd placed it earlier, then paced his office like a caged tiger. He did so for more than an hour before working off enough energy so that he could relax sufficiently to sit. He didn't know if it was his anger or the caffeine that had got him so wound up. And he didn't care.

Groaning, he leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his face with his hands. His mother had just cursed him to two more nights of Kate Leever's presence. And Kate hadn't helped matters with her quick agreement. The woman was like lichen. Like muck you couldn't scrape off the bottom of your shoe. Like—well, none of the things popping to his mind were very attractive, and, as annoying as Kate Leever could be, she was also attractive, so Lucern gave up his analogies. He tried to be fair about such things whenever possible.