Tall, Dark & Hungry(57)

He paused to consider, then nodded. "You've got a point."

"I don't know," Vincent said as Terri laughed. "Some men, smart men, recognize the value of a good life mate. A partner to share life's sorrows and joys with."

"Why, Vincent," she said with surprise. "You almost sound like a romantic."

The actor recoiled. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."

Terri chuckled and picked up the ball of string to cut off a length.

"What time is it?" Bastien asked suddenly.

"Three-thirty," Chris answered, glancing at his wristwatch.

"Oh." Bastien looked perplexed for a minute, then glanced at Terri. "I don't remember you eating today."

"I had a bowl of cereal when I got up," she said absently. She finished with the string and began to fold a sheaf of Kleenex.

"But you didn't eat lunch."

Terri glanced up, surprised at the accusation in his voice. "I didn't eat lunch?" she echoed with surprise. "No, I didn't. But then neither did you. We were busy, so we've been snacking instead."

Bastien scowled as she gestured to the junk food on the table. "Popcorn and corn chips do not make up a healthy diet."

Terri grimaced at those stiff words. She'd said something very similar to C.K. a day or two ago and only now realized how annoying that must have been.

"You're absolutely right, Bastien," Vincent said. "Perhaps you should make something to eat."

"Me?" He blanched at the idea, and Vincent laughed.

"Yes, you. Well, surely you weren't suggesting Terri cook for you?"

"Not for me," he said firmly. "I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I," Terri said with a shrug. "Problem solved."

She didn't miss Bastien's scowl, but merely grinned. The man hardly ever ate. And when he did, he mostly just picked at the food. He had some nerve lecturing her, when he had such poor eating habits.

"Well, I'm hungry," Chris announced, grabbing his crutches to get to his feet. "So I'll cook."

"Oh, I don't think that's a very good idea," Vincent said calmly and fanned out the flower he'd just finished making.

"Why not?" Bastien asked. "Terri's cooked for him, Chris can cook for her."

"Look at the man," Vincent said. "So far he's been to the hospital twice in less than a week—once for a toilet falling on him, once for a bee sting. Are you really willing to risk letting him play with fire and sharp objects?"

"Dear Lord," Bastien breathed in horror.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Terri set her half-finished flower down with exasperation. "I'll cook."

"No." Bastien stood abruptly. "I'll cook. How difficult can it be?"



"I'm thinking takeout would be a good idea," Vincent said as he peered down at the charred mass in the bottom of the pan. He tilted his head to get a different perspective and asked, "What was it?"

"Ha, ha," Bastien muttered, dropping the pan in the sink and turning on the tap. It would definitely need soaking to come clean. If it came clean. Perhaps he should just chuck it out, he thought, then pointed out, "It was you who suggested I cook."

"Well, I was trying to do you a favor," Vincent retorted. "I was afraid Terri would think you were trying to get her to cook for you. No woman wants to be a replacement housekeeper. Speaking of which, how's the hunt for a new housekeeper going, anyway? And have you found Mrs. Houlihan yet?"

"I haven't any idea," Bastien admitted. He'd given both problems to Meredith, and he hadn't been keeping up with much lately. It seemed there had been one crisis after another keeping him busy and distracted. He supposed he should check in with the office. "What time is it?"

"Almost five."

Bastien nodded as he shucked the oven mitts he'd donned to rescue the burning meal from the oven. Not that he'd managed to save it. He grimaced to himself as he recalled leafing quickly through a cookbook and choosing what had seemed simplest: Roast. Throw it in a pan and throw it in the oven. What could be easier? And Bastien had done so—but as the recipe had called for a thawed roast of beef, and he'd only had frozen, he'd upped the temperature a bit. All the way, actually. Then he'd gone back to work on the tissue paper flowers. By the time he'd remembered he was cooking something, the meat was done. Past done. Black on the outside and red on the inside. Disgusting. Bastien saw there was more to cooking than he'd realized.

"How's it going?"

Both he and Vincent glanced toward the door, where Terri stood. She was glancing around curiously. "Is that dinner I smell?"

"We're having takeout," Bastien answered, walking past her to stride up the hall. "Order whatever you want. I have to check in at the office. I'll be back directly to pay."