Kate woke up at ten a.m. Her first thought was to wonder where she was. Her second thought—once she recalled where she was and why—was "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 noon—if 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.