Single White Vampire (Argeneau #3)(35)

"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 publisher—most of them, anyway—rents 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 feed—a 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—"