Tall, Dark & Hungry (6 page)

"Lucern's."

"Fine. The editor can have Etienne's room," Bastien decided. It put the blond man between Vincent and Terri. Hopefully, if Vinny got hungry, he would go to the nearest source of nourishment and leave Terri alone. Bastien really didn't want to kick his cousin's ass in front of these two. Well, not in front of Terri at any rate. He didn't much care what the editor thought of him.
Christopher,
he reminded himself, going naturally for the long version of the name and bypassing nicknames altogether.

"Can you walk?" he asked the editor.

"Not without help," the fellow admitted apologetically.

Bastien grimaced. It looked like he'd have to cart him around like a baby. Which wasn't a problem, he could lift and carry the man easily enough. It just seemed a bother.

"You aren't going to take him to his room already, are you?" Kate's cousin asked as Bastien moved toward the editor. "He hasn't eaten yet. And do you know, I didn't notice Kate carrying any kind of luggage or overnight bag for him when they came in." She eyed the invalid with concern. "Didn't you two stop at your apartment to collect some clothes from your apartment?"

"There wasn't time," C.K. admitted, looking not at all pleased. "Kate called the airport from the hospital once she knew that she would be taking my place, then raced here to drop me off. There was only one plane headed for California tonight that had two seats left on it, and that didn't leave much time to spare. She had to collect Luc and get going if she wanted to make it."

Bastien wasn't at all surprised to hear that Kate had expected that Luc would accompany her to California. The two had been inseparable ever since Luc had turned her.

"He'll need clothes," Terri pointed out almost apologetically.

"Yes," Bastien agreed. Another problem for him to attend to.

Terri patted his arm sympathetically. "It doesn't appear to be your day."

Bastien almost assured her that everything would be fine, that he was used to dealing with crises, but he very much feared that doing so would bring an end to the soothing way Terri was touching him; and he found he quite liked her touch. So, for the first time in his life, Bastien kept his mouth shut, shook his head, and went for the sympathy play. "No, it doesn't."

"Umm."

"What?" He cast a scowl down at Chris Keyes, irritated with the editor's interruption of the brief interlude.

"Do you think it would be possible to get me that glass of water?" the editor asked. "Those painkillers from the hospital—I could really use one about now."

"Get him a drink, Vinny."

"Vincent," Bastien's cousin corrected firmly. "And get it yourself, I'm not your housekeeper."

"No, you're the reason I no longer
have
a housekeeper," Bastien growled. "Get the drink."

"I'll get it." Terri rushed off before Bastien could protest. It wasn't until she was out of the room that he remembered she wouldn't have a clue where the kitchen was. Fortunately, she took the right hallway. She'd find her way, Bastien assured himself, then rubbed one hand wearily across his forehead as he considered the tasks ahead and what order to accomplish them in.

First, he had to deal with Vincent. It would be best to get his cousin out of the apartment and on his way to feeding; that was the only way to keep him from nibbling on the guests. Then Bastien would go after Mrs. Houlihan and wipe her memory, swing by Keyes's apartment to collect him some clothes, pick up some food for Chris and Terri, then stick the editor in a room for the night, leaving himself free to entertain Kate's cousin. He was smiling over this idea when he realized his cousin would be back by then, and no doubt do his level best to charm the pants right off Terri. Literally. His smile died as he acknowledged that his life had become a sort of hell.

"Bastien?"

"Hmm?" His gloomy thoughts vanished as he turned to Terri. She had returned to the room, handed the editor a cup of what presumably was water, and now moved to Bastien's side. He smiled. She was a lovely woman—a lovely, thoughtful woman who had taken a good chunk of her vacation to fly 2,320 miles to help her cousin and best friend out with wedding preparations, only to find herself dumped at his door like some stray puppy while her cousin and Lucern wandered the earth attending romance writer conventions, making love in hotels, and no doubt kissing every two steps of the way, like the brainless lovesick duo they were.

"While I was in the kitchen getting Chris the glass of water, I had a quick look around and I noticed you have no food."

"Oh?" Bastien asked vaguely, thinking that perhaps describing her as being "dumped on him like a stray puppy" was unkind. There was nothing doglike about this woman. She was more a cat-type—sleek and graceful.

"No food at all," she added significantly.

"I see." Bastien's eyes dropped down her figure. All those curves weren't really very sleek or catlike, which is why he supposed he hadn't made the association at first. But she had those large green eyes like a cat. Which were rather similar to Kate's, he noticed now. They must be a family trait, he decided, his gaze briefly drifting back up to her eyes before returning to her figure. She really had a gorgeous body, and her University of Leeds T-shirt and tight white jeans showed it to advantage. She definitely wasn't a puppy.

"Or dishes even," Terri continued. "There was one cup that I presume Mrs Houlihan used for her tea, a teapot, some tea bags, but that was it. In the whole kitchen, that was it. Hello? Bastien? Can you hear me?"

Bastien blinked as the sudden concern and touch of impatience in Terri's tone made it through his distracted state. It took him a minute to grasp what she'd been trying to tell him as he'd ogled her body, but after a moment the key words popped to the fore of his mind. "No food. Or dishes. Right. We'll go shopping tomorrow. In the meantime…" He turned to survey the room, his gaze skating over the still wincing and shifting editor, his amused cousin, and the room at large. It stopped at the bar. "There are glasses in the bar," he announced, feeling rather triumphant. "And I'll… er…" What was it humans did when they were hungry but didn't want to cook? Oh, yes! They—

"Order in?" Vincent suggested.

"I knew that," Bastien snapped. Family could be so bloody annoying at times. Sighing, he turned back to Terri and forced a smile, completely ignoring her bewildered expression. "We'll order in tonight and go shopping tomorrow."

"Uh-huh." She nodded slowly, then tilted her head. "Have you lived here long?"

"About twenty years in this building, but over a hundred in the city," Bastien answered. Then he blinked and corrected himself:
"My family
has had the penthouse that long, I mean. None of us really lives here at all. I just use it when I'm in New York conducting business. Other family members drop in from time to time when they're in town," he added, with a glance at his cousin.

"I see." Terri smiled slightly, then shook her head and dug into her back pocket. She pulled out a wad of American bills. "Well, I can contribute to the takeout. What are we ordering?"

"Whatever you like, but there's no need to contribute. You're my guest."

"But—"

"No buts. You're my guest," he said firmly. He turned away to bring an end to the discussion, and his gaze landed grimly on Keyes. Bastien immediately pulled out the small notepad and pen he always carried around in his pocket for just such occasions and handed them over. "Write down your address and give me your keys, and I'll pick you up some clothes while Vincent and I are out collecting dinner." It wasn't a request.

"You!" He turned on his cousin as C.K. set to work. "Vincent, get that damned cape off and get ready to go out.

"And you—" His attention shifted to Terri, but one glimpse of her soft eyes and even softer-looking lips made his businesslike attitude disappear. A smile curved his lips again, and his voice was noticeably gentler as he said, "Just sit down and relax, Terri. I'll be back soon with dinner."

Then he took the notepad, pen, and keys the editor was holding out, grabbed his now capeless cousin by the arm, and escorted him determinedly to the elevator.

"I think he likes you."

Terri glanced toward Chris Keyes as the elevator doors closed on her host and his cousin. "What?" she asked in surprise.

"Well, he certainly treats you nicer than the rest of us."

Terri ignored the comment. The man was shifting about on the couch again, looking pained. "Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable?" she asked.

"No. Well, if you wouldn't mind? Another pillow under my leg might help until the painkillers kick in. Thanks for the water, by the way."

"No problem." Terri grabbed another cushion off the couch and set it under his cast on the coffee table. "Better?"

"Not really, but it will have to do."

She bit her lip at the surly comment. Men were such babies when sick or injured. "I'm just going to go to my room to start unpacking," she announced, turning toward the hall. "Shout if you need me."

"Do you think they have a television in this place?"

Terri paused at the hall and turned slowly, her gaze moving around the room. She didn't see a television. But there was a remote control on the coffee table by C.K.'s cast-encased foot. Walking back to him, she picked it up and looked it over with mounting confusion. There were more buttons on the thing than there were keys on a computer keyboard, and all of them with incomprehensible short forms and symbols. Two of them said TV, but with differing symbols beneath. Terri chose the first, and glanced around with a start as a soft whirring issued from the opposite wall. Her eyebrows rose as she watched a portion of wall slide upward to reveal a large television.

"Voila," she said, with more relief than cheer. She hit the second button, and the television clicked on. Glad to have solved the problem, Terri handed the remote to C.K. and turned to leave the room, grateful when she managed to escape without being called back again.

She found her room without difficulty, and closed the door behind her with a small sigh. None of this was going as she'd expected. Terri had imagined spending this first night on the couch in Kate's cozy little apartment, sharing a bowl of popcorn as the two of them laughed and giggled over past events and planned out the wedding. In fact, she'd rather looked forward to it. Terri had also expected to live out of her suitcase for two weeks, sleeping on Kate's lumpy old couch, and spending her time running around doing last-minute errands in her cousin's stead.

Instead, here she was in this huge, gorgeous bedroom in the Argeneau penthouse suite, with drawers for her clothes, her own bathroom, a huge TV, and nothing to do. Terri supposed it was almost shameful to complain, but she'd rather looked forward to the way she'd imagined the trip.

Shaking her head, she grabbed her carry-on and walked to the door Bastien had said led to the bathroom. Terri opened it and stepped inside. It was as lovely as the bedroom, of course—large, luxurious, and all hers. Her gaze drifted over the tub, the shower, the potted plants, the wicker chair, the double sink, then to the door opposite the one she'd entered. Curious, she set her bag on a corner of the large vanity and walked over to open it.

Terri's eyebrows lifted at the sight before her. She'd thought her room large and gorgeous? This bedroom had to be the master suite. There was a huge king-size bed, antique by her guess, with four corner posts, an overhead awning, and heavy dark drapes that could be pulled closed around it. All the other furniture looked antique too, drawers, armoires, table and chairs, sofa and stuffed chairs. The room was bigger than her entire cottage back in Huddersfield, England.

After hesitating on the threshold, Terri braved entering, feeling like a thief. It was possible that this was Marguerite Argeneau's room. After all, Vincent had said it was actually Bastien's mother's apartment. If it was her room, then it was unoccupied at the moment, which would ease some of Terri's guilt about allowing her curiosity such free rein.

There were three doors leading off the master bedroom. Curious to know where they went, Terri moved to the first and opened it. The hallway. She closed it quickly and moved to the next door, which revealed a huge walk-in closet. Every stitch of clothing inside was male. There were suits mostly, with a couple of more casual clothes to break up the monotony. Chinos, cords, casual tops and sweaters. There were no jeans though, she noticed.

It was Bastien's room, then. Terri started to pull the closet door closed, only to pause as her gaze landed on a tall metal stand in the far back corner.

Terri's deceased husband, Ian, had spent a lot of time in the hospital during the battle against Hodgkin's disease that eventually claimed him. But he'd also spent a lot of time at home. At first, Terri had thought it important to keep him home to keep his spirits high and help him fight the illness. Once she'd finally gotten through the denial phase, and accepted that he wouldn't survive, she'd been determined to make his life as happy, normal and comfortable as possible. He'd died at home, with herself, his brother Dave and Dave's wife, Sandi, in attendance. Terri was very familiar with medical paraphernalia thanks to that period of her life. She recognized an IV stand when she saw one. And there was no reason on earth that she could think of for Bastien to have one here.

Then she recalled that this was really his mother's room, and that his father was dead. Kate had never said how the senior Argeneau had passed on. Now Terri suspected it may have been in a manner similar to her own mother's death, and Ian's, which had been slow, lingering, and painful. It was an unpleasant thing to think about, and none of Terri's business—until and unless Bastien told her. But then, this room wasn't any of her business either. She was being snoopy.

Terri pulled the door closed and hesitated, torn between stopping and leaving or continuing her snooping. The fact that there was only one door left to look behind decided it: She'd gone this far, she might as well just peek through the last door before going back to her own room.