"Is Lucern okay? He looks awfully pale."
At Allison's comment, Kate glanced worriedly at her author. Luc was awfully pale. She'd thought so in his room, but he seemed even more so under the lights here in the large reception area of the welcome brunch. She should have insisted that he bite her.
She had tried, of course. She'd told him to just do it, but Chris had been knocking insistently on the door, and Lucern had refused. He'd feared she might be faint afterward, and he didn't want her trying to get ready, suffering a dizzy spell and perhaps falling. Besides, there wasn't time, he'd said. He'd do it later.
Now, as she took in the pallor of his skin, she could have kicked herself for not being more insistent.
"Kate?"
She turned and forced a smile for her boss. "He's a little jet-lagged. He'll be okay."
Allison accepted the lie and turned her attention back to her meal, leaving Kate to fret over Lucern. She was going to make him bite her first thing upon leaving the brunch; they could run upstairs for a quickie before going to the reader hospitality suite. And then she'd have to find a way to get him a real supply of blood. She'd considered the matter, and even if they were able to get hold of Bastien today, she was sure it would be tomorrow before he could arrange another shipment to be delivered.
Kate frowned as she realized that Bastien could be calling right this minute, and there was no one in their room to answer the call. And there wouldn't be all day. Or tonight either if they attended the cover model reunion. Perhaps they could skip that. Lucern wasn't really needed there. The fans would all be interested in the male cover models and might not notice his absence. Allison and Chuck would, however. Kate frowned down at her plate. Allison wouldn't mind, but Chuck would. As far as he was concerned, the company had paid for Lucern to be there and he would want his money's worth.
"Does he speak?"
Kate glanced sharply up at Chuck's acidic question. She had made sure that Chris was on one side of Lucern and she on the other. Allison was directly on her right, and Chuck was next to Allison, but the publisher was leaning in front of the editorial director, his chin practically resting on her chest as he spoke. Allison was seething, and Kate couldn't blame her. Chuck was something of a pig, hitting on all the women in the office and trying to look down their tops. He wasn't well liked by the staff, and they could hardly wait for him to be replaced. As a rule, presidents at Roundhouse were changed almost yearly. Kate just hoped Chuck Morgan wasn't the exception. No one at Roundhouse had been happy when he had arrived to replace George Sassoon. Their last president had been an exceptional man who had moved to publishing from radio and television, bringing all of that savvy with him. He had done wonderful things for Roundhouse. No one had been surprised when he had been snapped up by a bigger company. Chuck Morgan was a poor replacement.
Her gaze drifted past his sneering face to Jodi Hampton, the writer who sat beside him. Jodi was throwing curious glances at Lucern. Kate wasn't surprised. Aside from him being an attractive man, Lucern was receiving an unusual amount of VIP treatment. The editors and personnel of Roundhouse were supposed to be spread out among a couple of tables so that all their writers felt included. But Chris and Kate weren't going to leave Lucern's side all week, and Allison and Chuck had wanted to meet the mysterious Mr. Argeneau, so they were all grouped around him. Which left only Deeana Stancyk and Tom Duchamp, the VP of Promotion, to circulate among the thirty other Roundhouse writers in attendance.
"I said, does he speak?"
Kate's gaze shifted back to Chuck. He was one of the few men whose features reflected his unpleasant nature. He had a pockmarked, florid face, a drooping gray mustache and a bespeckled, balding head.
Kate considered the question. Unfortunately, Lucern was rather taciturn at the best of times. At the moment, he was silent as stone. She opened her mouth to offer an excuse for his silence, then just as promptly changed her mind. They had wanted him here; she had got him. Perhaps if they weren't happy with his performance, they wouldn't make her pester him in the future. She merely shrugged and said, "Not much."