"It's nice outside. Why don't we take this out and eat it in the shade?" Terri suggested as the cashier handed back her change. She'd insisted on paying, and had been faster on the draw than Bastien. He suspected most women would have been content to let him foot every bill. Terri wasn't most women. It didn't matter to her that he was rich and could afford with ease what she couldn't; she wanted to contribute.
"That sounds like a plan," he agreed, and took the strawberry smoothies off the tray, leaving her to carry the sandwiches as they made their way out of the cafeteria.
"I can't believe it's past lunchtime already," she commented as they settled on the stone cornice that ran along the front of the museum. "The morning's gone so fast."
"Yes," Bastien murmured, half concentrating on the sandwich he was unwrapping, half concentrating on the older gentleman settled on the stone ledge beside them. The fellow had a bag of bread in his hand. As Bastien ate, he watched the man open the bag and take some bread out, breaking it up to toss to the birds that were quickly gathering. There was soon quite an assortment of the creatures flocking around. Small birds, large birds—Bastien didn't know the names of them all, but he did recognize the robins, grey catbirds and pigeons. The pigeons appeared to be the most aggressive birds in the bunch, and he watched them begin to flock in earnest, snapping greedily at the bits of bread the man was throwing. It became obvious that this was a regular ritual, when the more brazen birds began snatching the bread right out of his hand and even perching on him to get to it.
"I'm really enjoying the museum. Thank you for bringing me," Terri said.
Bastien glanced toward her to find that she was watching the feeding session with as much interest as he, though he suspected for a different reason. He didn't like how aggressive the creatures were getting, and was watching for one of the birds to decide that the sandwiches he and Terri held were also on offer. He worried that if they did, the pigeons might make a dive for one of them. Terri, however, seemed just innocently enjoying the spectacle, oblivious of the possible threat.
He considered warning her, but didn't want to spoil her enjoyment, so Bastien merely inched a little closer on the ledge so that he could fend off any possible threat. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. So am I."
She smiled slightly, then raised her smoothie to take a drink.
"How are your feet holding out?" he asked. They had been walking the museum for more than four hours.
"They're good," she answered quickly.
Too quickly perhaps, he thought, and he made an attempt to slip into her mind and read the truth. It was the first time he'd thought to do so since arriving home with dinner to find her sleeping, but this seemed a better excuse to try. They'd been on the go since getting up, and he didn't want to wear her out.
After spending most of the night sitting up talking and laughing, Bastien had slept until seven o'clock this morning. He and Terri never seemed to run out of things to say to one another and had stayed up later and later each evening of the past few days. Last night, they'd lingered in the living room until three in the morning. By rights, he should have been exhausted when he'd woken up after only four hours of sleep, but that hadn't been the case; Bastien had bounded out of bed full of energy and eager to meet the day—and to find Terri.
A quick tour through the main areas of the penthouse proved she wasn't yet up, so Bastien had scrawled a quick note of explanation as to where he was, in case she got up while he was gone. Then he had headed down to the Argeneau offices to be sure there was nothing to take care of before they left.
When he'd returned to the penthouse, Terri had been up and about and looking perky and cheerful and no more affected by her lack of sleep than he. She'd also been freshly showered, dressed, and obviously ready for their outing. Bastien had taken her to the Stage Deli for breakfast, and watched her eat with an enthusiasm that always surprised him before they'd walked to the museum. They'd been walking ever since, Terri flitting through exhibits, Bastien following, his attention torn between the museum offerings and his companion's unabashed enjoyment. It had all been so distracting that it hadn't occurred to him to try to read or control her mind.
"Did I mention that Kate called this morning, while you were down in your office?" Terri asked.
Bastien blinked, distracted from the effort to slip into her mind. "No. Did she?" he asked.
"Yes. She seemed surprised that we were going to the museum. I gather you don't take a lot of time off work."
"Er… no. I'm a bit of a workaholic," he admitted. It was probably the largest understatement ever made by man or vampire. Work, until now, had been all there was to Bastien.
Terri nodded. "I hope you don't feel you
have
to take me around. I mean, I'm enjoying this," she assured him quickly. "But I don't want to intrude on your affairs."
"My meeting was canceled," he reminded her, not mentioning that he had been the one to cancel it. He was the key attendee who was unavailable. And he had no intention of being available all week.
Her expression brightened. "It was, wasn't it?"
Seeming soothed, Terri relaxed and finished off her sandwich. Bastien watched, fascinated by her mouth as she chewed and swallowed. She had such large, full lips. He wondered briefly what it would be like to kiss them. How they would feel beneath his own. If they were as soft as they appeared.
"Is there something on my face?" Terri asked, suddenly aware that Bastien was staring at her.
Bastien blinked, apparently surprised by the question, then relaxed his posture and turned his gaze to his sandwich. It was only half eaten, while her own was finished, she noted. The man didn't seem to eat much. He'd really only picked at his breakfast that morning. Terri felt self-conscious about her own appetite in comparison, but she was always ravenous in the mornings.
She watched him lift the sandwich to his mouth. He took a bite and chewed with a perplexed expression. It fascinated her. "Is there something wrong with your sandwich?"
"What?" His gaze shifted back to her. "Oh, no, I'm just surprised at how good it tastes."
Terri laughed. Sometimes he said the oddest things. When they were touring the Renaissance section of the museum, he'd spoken with such authority and knowledge about the period that she had finally asked if he'd taken history at the university. The question had seemed to make him uncomfortable, and he'd flushed and muttered that he'd taken a course or two.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Terri gave a start. Bastien's question had seemed to come out of the blue. "No. I was an only child."
"Oh, yes. I think Kate mentioned something about that. You're the only child of a single parent."
Terri nodded. "It was tough on my mother, but she was a wonderful woman. Hardworking. We didn't have much money sometimes, but there was always lots of love." She tilted her head curiously. "You have another brother and sister besides Lucern, don't you? And you grew up with both parents? It must have been nice having siblings."
Bastien snorted. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's a pain."
"But you wouldn't give them up for the world, I'm sure," she guessed, reading the affection in his expression.
"No, I wouldn't," he admitted. "Although there was a time or two I thought I might."
"Tell me," she urged, and listened with amusement as he launched into a tale of childhood antics. Terri could tell Bastien was editing the tale as he told it—there were small hesitations and pauses that gave him away—but she was becoming used to that. They had done a good deal of talking over the last three days, and she was quite sure that the man edited most of the stories he told her. Terri didn't really mind, though; she enjoyed listening to and talking with him just the same. She enjoyed
him.
She watched the way his eyes sparkled with remembered glee, then found her gaze fixing on his lips. They curved first in wry self-deprecation, then amusement. Terri watched them move as he spoke, fascinated by their contours and the plumpness of the lower lip in comparison to the upper. And as he rambled on, she found herself wondering what it would be like if he kissed her.
She blinked as that thought crossed her mind, then she straightened abruptly, both alarmed and startled. Terri had thought Bastien attractive from the start, and interesting to talk to. She had enjoyed the last three days immensely, and found herself waking up looking forward to what the day might bring. But she hadn't realized that she was "attracted" attracted to the man. Dear God, she was in trouble, Terri realized faintly; then she became aware that Bastien had fallen silent. Her gaze shot from his lips to his eyes, and widened slightly at the expression on his face.
"I—" she began uncertainly, but he cut her off by suddenly capturing her face in both hands and tugging her forward. He covered her open mouth with his own.
It had been so long since she'd been properly kissed, Terri was a little overwhelmed by the sudden invasion of his tongue into her mouth. She stilled, a plethora of responses rushing through her mind ranging from confusion to dismay. Then pleasure slid past all that to suffuse her mind, and Terri relaxed against Bastien, breathing a sigh into his mouth. It seemed to her that the moment she did, a sudden squawking set up next to them. They broke apart, and glanced at the birds now squabbling over the last of the old man's bread, then relaxed and glanced back at each other.
"I'm sorry," he said, as their gazes met.
"Are you?" she asked huskily.
"No."
"Neither am I."
They were both silent for a moment; then Bastien glanced at the birds flocking around the man who'd been feeding them. His bread bag was empty, but the birds were still hungry.
Bastien tossed the rest of his sandwich into the flock, cleared his throat, and glanced back to her. "Have you had enough of the museum today? We can come another day to finish looking around if you have."
Terri hesitated. In truth, she
had
seen enough of the museum for one day. Her feet were okay, but she didn't think they would be for much longer. More to the point, if she saw too much more, she feared it would all start to blur in her mind. Still, she was willing to risk both outcomes rather than see this interlude come to an end.
"We could do a little shopping," Bastien suggested.
Terri brightened at the suggestion. He wasn't calling an end to their outing, just switching gears, and the idea of more shopping was attractive. She hadn't really bought anything on Saturday. They had been mostly window-shopping, but she did want to make some purchases while here. Everything was terribly expensive in England. New York prices were cheap in comparison.
"That sounds like fun—if you don't mind," she added with sudden concern. Most men weren't really into shopping, and she didn't want to bore Bastien by making him take her around the shops for the second time in three days.
"I like to shop," he assured her as he got to his feet. He took her hand so naturally as he turned toward the steps, Terri hardly noticed. When she did, she bit her lip and avoided looking at him. They descended the steps to the sidewalk in front of the museum. She felt like a teenager again, nervous and awkward and suddenly tongue-tied.
They walked in companionable silence along the street, Terri glancing curiously at everything they passed. This was only her third trip to New York. She'd visited Kate before, but then they'd spent most of their time talking, shopping in the Village, and talking some more. Kate and Terri had always been particularly close, more friends than just cousins. She smiled at the oddity of her thoughts. She made it sound as if friends were more important than relatives to her, and in some ways they were. You chose your friends, but couldn't pick your relatives. Terri was fortunate in that most of her relatives were also friends. Their family was made up of some wonderful, caring, and giving aunts, uncles, and cousins. Terri loved every one of them. It was the one thing she missed the most living in England: her family.
"How did you end up in England?" Bastien asked suddenly, holding open the door of Bloomingdale's for her to enter.
Terri considered the question in silence, and sadness overwhelmed her. "I moved there when I married. My husband was English."
"You said you aren't married, so I take it the marriage either dissolved in divorce or your husband died," Bastien said quietly. "I'm guessing he died."
Terri glanced at him in surprise. "You're right. But what made you say that?"
He shrugged. "Bad memories would have seen you move back to America. Only good memories would keep you in a foreign country when the reason for moving there was gone," he explained. "Besides, only a fool would give up a treasure like you."
Terri felt herself flush with pleasure at the compliment, but his question and words brought painful memories to the fore. She'd been young when she'd married and moved to England the year after her mother's death, not quite twenty. Ian had been only a couple of years older. It had all seemed a grand adventure at first. He'd worked at his government job; she'd attended the university. They'd bought a little cottage and played house for a couple of years… until he'd been diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease and begun the battle for his life, a battle he'd lost three years later.
Terri had just earned her bachelor's degree the year the diagnosis was made. She continued her education for a while afterward, but had given it up in the last year of her husband's illness to be with him. At barely twenty-five years old, Terri had become a widow, left with little more than a cozy little cottage and a small insurance settlement.
She'd used the insurance to finish her education, graduating with a doctorate that had led to her being offered a professorship at the University of Leeds. Terri had spent the last five years working hard at a job she loved, and filling her off-hours with volunteer work with community theater. All of which had allowed her to avoid unwanted emotional entanglements. At first, she'd told herself—and all her well-meaning friends and relatives who tried to set her up on dates—that it was too early to get involved with someone else. But after a couple of years even Terri no longer believed that. The truth was, even now at the age of thirty-three, she was afraid to get involved again.