everything. And judging by her expression, she was already plotting.
At least that was what he thought, so he was surprised when she took the bag of blood Bastien offered and turned to smile at her oldest son. âLuc, darling. If you want to get rid of the girl so badly, why not just agreeto do one of the publicity things sheâs on about? The moment you agree, sheâll leave.â
ââCause I donât want to,â he answered, almost wincing as he heard how childish he sounded.
âAnd I donât want to listen to you whine, but sometimes we have to do things we donât like in life.â Her words made everyone fall silent; then Marguerite stabbed her teeth into her bag of blood and drained it. When sheâd finished, she turned to Lucern and added, âKate doesnât want to be here bothering you any more than you want her here. However, her job depends on being able to convince you to do one of those publicity events. She likes her new position. She wants to keep it. She wonât leave until you agree to at least one.â
Spotting his horrified reaction, Marguerite patted her sonâs cheek affectionately. âI suggest you tell her youâll do R.T. From what she told me at the spa today, itâs probably the best option for both of you.â
âWhatâs R.T.?â Lucern asked suspiciously.
â Romantic Times magazine,â his mother explained. âJust tell her youâll do it.â Then Marguerite Argeneau turned and walked away, heading back along the row of cars.
âHmm. I wonder how she found out Kateâs job depends on convincing you to do one of those publicity events,â Bastien murmured as they watched their mother walk away.
Greg shrugged. âSheâs very good at getting people to tell her things they never mean to say. She would have made a good therapist.â
Lucern was silent, and they all handed their empty glasses back to Bastien. He didnât know how his motherhad found out what she had, but he didnât doubt for a minute that it was true. Which made him about as miserable as he could be, for now he knew for certain that he would never be free of the woman. She was desperate, and desperate people were both as persistent as hell and unpredictable.
âHere you all are!â
The four men whirled away from the van again, this time to find Kate C. Leever facing them. There was a mischievous grin on her face as she took in their guilty expressions and the way they were all trying to hide something behind them.
âRachel was looking for you. I said I thought I saw you come out here and said Iâd check for her,â she explained, still eyeing them with amusement. âShe tried to stop me and said sheâd go, but itâs her weddingâI couldnât let her leave her guests to go chasing after you four reprobates.â
Lucern exchanged a glance with the others. They all knew darned well that Rachel had probably hoped to slip outside for a quick nip as their mother had just done. Kate, in her kindness, had made that impossible.
âWhy did you call us reprobates?â Gregory asked.
Kate gave an airy wave and laughed. âBecause of what youâre doing out here.â
The four men exchanged glances and shifted into a tighter group, making sure that the open back of the van and the cooler of blood were hidden; then Lucern echoed, âWhat weâre doing?â
âOh, like it isnât obvious,â she snorted. âSneaking out here, crowding around the van.â She shook her head and gave them a condescending look. âI may havebeen raised in Nebraska, but Iâve lived in New York long enough to be savvy about you artist types.â
Now the looks the men exchanged were bewildered. Artist types? Lucern was a writer, Etienne a program developer, Bastien a businessman and Greg was a therapist. Artist types? And what did she think artist types did anyway? The
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