"Food poisoning."

"Mmm." Bastien nodded solemnly.

"Bloody food poisoning," Vincent repeated, with a combination of disbelief and disgust. "The guy is a walking disaster. This is what? The third time he's been to the hospital in a week?"

Terri stirred in her seat and glanced at the men on either side of her. "Has it only been a week?"

Vincent frowned. "Hasn't it? Kate brought him to the penthouse last Friday. It's Friday again. Really early Friday," he added, scowling at the clock on the emergency room wall.

Terri followed his gaze to see that it was four a.m., definitely early. And apparently Friday morning. She pondered that information. Terri had known some¬where in the back of her mind that it was Friday morning, but it hadn't occurred to her until Bastien's cousin said it, that this meant she'd now been in New York for a week. Only one week. She marveled over that fact for a moment. She had only met Bastien a week ago. It felt as if a lifetime had passed. It was hard to recall what her life had even been like without him. He was so ingrained in her thoughts now, it seemed as if Bastien had always been in her life, or at least had always belonged there.

"Food poisoning," Vincent muttered again with a shake of his head. "How has the guy survived to this age? He'll never make it to thirty."

"I think he is thirty," Terri said.

"Is he?" Bastien asked.

Terri hesitated. Kate had mentioned the editor and his age in an e-mail to her the fall before. It had been his birthday at the time. But she wasn't now sure what age her cousin had said. "I think so. Twenty-nine or thirty."

"Well then, he won't make it to thirty-five," Vin¬cent predicted.

Terri smiled, then merely said, "Kate never men¬tioned him being accident-prone. I think this is just an unlucky streak."

"An unlucky streak?" The actor laughed. "Terri, sprained ankles and stubbed toes make up unlucky streaks. This guy is a walking calamity. Instead of calling him C.K. we should call him C.C.--for Calamity Chris."

Terri smiled wider, then said, "It was probably the casserole that made him sick. All three of us tried every dish that the caterers sent over, but just a bite of each. Chris is the only one who ate a lot of anything, and that was the chicken casserole."

"We ate the trifle. Or shared it, at least," Bastien reminded her, his voice dropping to an intimate tone.

Terri blushed as his words brought memories of the past evening sharply back to mind.

"But you're right--Chris is the only one who re¬ally ate the casserole. We only had a bite each," Bastien remembered with a nod. "You didn't like it."

"And you said there was something in it that you just didn't take to," she reminded him.

"Yeah, salmonella. That's what you didn't like, and you didn't take to," Vincent commented, pointing at first one then the other. Then he turned an impatient glance back to the busy E.R. waiting area. "How much longer do you suppose they're going to keep him?"

Bastien shook his head wearily. "I hope not much longer. I could use some sleep."

"Yeah, me too. I want to be well rested for the trip this weekend."

Terri turned to Vincent in surprise. "What trip?"

"I'm leaving this afternoon to go home to Califor¬nia for the weekend," he told her. "I'm missing my old haunts."

"Oh?" Bastien asked with interest. "What's her name?"

"I said my old haunts, not a woman," Vincent pointed out.

"Uh huh." Bastien grinned, then repeated, "What's her name?"

His cousin hesitated, his mouth twisting with dis¬pleasure. At last he gave in and muttered, "No one you know."

Bastien opened his mouth, but before he could pursue the matter further, a woman in a white coat opened the door to the waiting area and called out, "Bastien Argeneau?" She glanced around.

He was on his feet and at the woman's side at once. Terri and Vincent watched as the two spoke, then he followed her back through the door.

"Hmm." Vincent sat up a little straighter and glanced at her. "What do you suppose that's about?"

Terri shook her head. She didn't have any idea, but it didn't seem like a good thing. The good thing would have been a pale and weak but recovering Chris Keyes coming out to the waiting room ready to return to the penthouse.

They both fell silent as they waited. As the minutes ticked by, Terri found her gaze sliding around the emergency waiting area, something she'd been able to avoid while the men were talking. They'd distracted her from where she was. It was better for her to be distracted. The first trip with Chris had been easier because it had all been in panic. By the time they'd reached the hospital, the editor had almost been blue from his difficulty breathing. There had been all that rush and fuss when they'd arrived. They'd all of them been hurried through the waiting area and into one of the examination rooms to answer the questions the doctors were barking--questions Chris hadn't been able to answer in his state. Then Vincent, Bastien, and Terri had been hustled out into the hallway to wait while the professionals worked. But they hadn't had to wait long, and Terri had been so worried about Chris she hadn't had a chance to worry much about where she was.

Tonight was different. While the editor was sick as a dog, she didn't think the ailment was life-threatening. There wasn't as much to distract her, and now there was no Bastien or Vincent holding up the conversation to distract her either.

Terri hated hospitals. Hospitals meant illness and death to her. The two most important people in her life had gasped their last breaths in hospitals: her mother and Ian. And both had been nightmares to endure. She'd stood helplessly by, watching them die long lingering deaths filled with suffering and count¬less indignities. She took a deep breath in an effort to ease some of the tension building in her, but let it out quickly and closed her eyes at the scent that filled her nose. Hospitals all looked and smelled the same.

"There he is."

She glanced up at that announcement from Vin¬cent, and watched with relief as Bastien walked to¬ward them.

"They're keeping him overnight," he announced as Vincent and Terri got to their feet.

"Is it that bad?" she asked anxiously.

"No. I don't think so. He's very dehydrated, and they have him on an IV, but they said he should be fine. It's just that he's been through so much trauma the last week, they'd feel better keeping him here to be sure of his recovery."

"Oh," Terri said. That didn't sound so bad. It even seemed sensible.

"So? Are we out of here?" Vincent asked. "Or do we have to do something else? Sign papers, or whatever?"

"We're out of here." Catching Terri's hand in his, Bastien turned toward the door.

The three of them were silent as they walked to the car. It had been a long night and they were all ex-hausted. At least, Terri suspected the men must be; she knew she herself was. While she'd caught a couple minutes' nap before waking to the sound of C.K.'s knocking on the bedroom door, it hadn't been enough. Bastien had tried to convince her to stay be¬hind and sleep, but Terri had known she wouldn't be able to until they returned; she'd simply sit up worry¬ing until she knew that the editor would be all right. Going to the hospital and pacing about hadn't sounded like fun, but at least she'd know what was going on as it happened and wouldn't be pacing alone in the penthouse.

Terri had been surprised, however, when Vincent had insisted on coming. The man's sleep had been disturbed when Chris came out of his room after an¬other bout of sickness, still in his boxers and T-shirt, and tried to argue that he didn't really feel well enough to be traipsing off to the hospital, but he'd probably feel better after some sleep. Bastien had lost his temper and yelled, waking his cousin up in the process. Vincent had, of course, come out to discover what was going on. He'd immediately decided to join the party heading for the hospital. Terri supposed he'd been just as concerned as the rest of them, de¬spite his comments about the editor's misadventures.

Terri yawned and slid into the front seat of Bastien's Mercedes, murmuring a thank-you as Bastien closed the door he'd held for her. He was so considerate, she thought on a sleepy sigh, watching as he got behind the steering wheel and started the car. And handsome, and sweet, and sexy, and smart.

Closing her eyes, she found herself nodding off as Bastien backed out of the parking spot and steered the car for the exit. When Terri blinked her eyes open again, it was to find they were pulling into the underground garage of the Argeneau building.

She tried to wake herself up as Bastien parked the car, but it seemed a terrible effort. Terri was still half asleep when she stumbled out, and was grateful when Bastien appeared at her side and drew her under his arm to steer her toward the elevator. Terri was even more grateful when, after she staggered wearily a couple of steps, he scooped her into his arms to carry her the rest of the way.

"She's exhausted," she heard Vincent comment. "What did you do to the poor girl?"

If Bastien answered, Terri didn't hear. She snug¬gled against his chest and nodded off to sleep again.

"Here you go, baby."

Bastien's soft voice roused Terri enough to realize he'd set her down on something soft, and that he was now working on the front of her shirt. She forced her eyelids up to see him bending over her, his face a picture of concentration. She supposed sitting up to help would be a good thing, but she felt almost drunk with exhaustion. Terri lay, eyes closed and half asleep, as he undressed her, removing first the top and bra she'd redonned to accompany them to the hospital, then moving on to her jeans and panties. He talked to her soothingly the whole while.

"There you are," he said.

Terri snuggled down into the cool crisp sheets with a little sigh as he drew the blankets up to cover her. Then she promptly tumbled back to sleep.

The awning over the bed was black.

Terri stared at it sleepily, wondering why that was. Her room was decorated in rose and blue, and the awning over the bed was a royal blue with stars on it that never failed to make her smile when she woke up. A sleepy murmur beside her, followed by an arm snaking around her waist, promptly gave Terri the answer.

Bastien. She wasn't in her room; he must have put her to bed in the master suite last night when they re¬turned from the hospital. She had been too tired at the time to notice. She'd been rather exhausted by the evening's events.

Terri closed her eyes as memories of the night be¬fore washed over her in tingling clarity. Last night had been... She let her breath out on a sigh. She'd never experienced anything like it. The passion, the hunger, the need--Terri had not just wanted Bastien last night in the living room, she'd craved him. Her skin, her lips, her whole body had ached for him with a desperation that, even now, made her toes curl.

Bastien sighed in his sleep and rolled away, with¬drawing his arm as he did so. Terri took advantage of the moment to ease out of bed. She needed some time alone to think. Things were moving so quickly, time rolling by so fast, her emotions were building at a frightening rate. She just needed a little breathing space, time to think over what had happened and what to do next.

If there was anything to do, Terri thought, collect¬ing her clothes from the floor, then crossing the bed¬room to the door to the guest bathroom. Of course, she did have a choice in this matter. Either she con¬tinued in the affair she'd started with Bastien last night--though "affair" seemed a cheap word; the man wasn't married and neither was she, and that was what "affair" usually connoted--or she stopped it now. Which wasn't really any choice at all, Terri de¬cided. She didn't want to stop.

A little sigh slipping from her lips, she turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and stepped un¬der the spray. The water beat down hot and pulsating on her head and shoulders, and Terri turned slowly, sighing with pleasure as it massaged her back, her side, her chest, and then her other side. Finally, she paused in her slow spin with her back to the spray again.

No, there wasn't any choice at all, she thought as she reached for the soap. Closing her eyes, Terri tipped her head backward and allowed moments from the night before to drift through her mind. She ran the small bar of soap over her skin. Bastien's ten¬derness, his passion, his kisses, his body driving into hers...

She wasn't at all surprised at the way her toes curled against the tile floor of the shower, or the lin-gering tingles that spread where her hands moved the soap. Just thinking of what she and Bastien had done, what she'd felt, made her hungry to experience it again and again. Who could willingly give up the chance at more of what she'd enjoyed last night? Or any of the laughter and sharing and pleasure that Terri had experienced since coming to New York?

She couldn't, and she was willing to admit it. But she was risking her heart and knew that, too. That was where the problem came. Every moment that Terri spent with Bastien pushed her that much closer to loving him. He was special. She'd never met any¬one like him, and she knew she never would again. It was as if Bastien had been custom-made for her, and put on this earth for her to find. They talked end¬lessly when together, liked and disliked many of the same things, worked well together in a crisis--and as for last night, if he'd found it as pleasurable and ex¬plosive as she had...

Terri opened her eyes and turned in the shower to allow the water to spray away the lather on her body. Had Bastien found as much pleasure in last night as she? She thought he might have, but perhaps it was always like that for him. Perhaps it had only been so new and explosive for her because of her lack of gen¬eral experience. She and Ian had been young, and ea¬ger, and filled with the selfishness of youth. Looking back, she could see that now. At the time, Terri had no more concerned herself with his pleasure than he had with hers.

But the answer to her question seemed simple. If the choice was to end it or to continue her enjoy-ment for as long as she could, then she would continue as long as she could. Even if it only lasted the two weeks--one week, now--that she had left here in New York. It might hurt like the very devil when it ended and she went home, but oh, the memories!

Deciding that, since she had only a limited time here, she would go right away to make some more memories, Terri turned off the taps, slid the shower door open, and stepped out onto the fluffy rose-colored bath mat. She snatched a small towel, wrapped it around her wet hair, then grabbed a larger one and wrapped it around herself. Then she started forward, only to pause in surprise at the sight of Bastien standing in the open bathroom door. He was completely and unselfconsciously naked. And he was breathtakingly beautiful.

"I woke up and you were gone," he said simply. Stepping forward, he slid his arms around her, pulled her against his chest, and lowered his head. Terri thought he was going to kiss her. He didn't. Instead, he nuzzled his nose into the crook between her shoulder and neck, and inhaled. "You smell like peaches." He licked her neck. "Good enough to eat."

"Peach soap," she breathed, her eyes drifting closed.

She tilted her head slightly to expose her neck to him. Bastien took advantage of the offering, and he nibbled a path to her ear. Terri moaned and shud¬dered, then lifted one hand to catch her fingers in his hair. She held him in place as she turned her face un¬til their lips met. Bastien accepted the offer at once, kissing her hungrily.

She sensed him stretching past her, and vaguely heard the sudden rush of water. Terri was even half aware of his urging her backward, but her mind was passion-clouded, and she was taken by surprise when she felt the drum of water on her back.

"What?" she asked, breaking their kiss.

"I need a shower, too. You don't mind joining me, do you?" He ran one finger lightly down her chest, caught her now soaked towel, and pulled it free. It dropped to the floor of the shower with a wet splat, leaving Terri as naked as he.

"You wash my back and I'll wash yours," he of¬fered, stepping closer and letting one hand drift down to caress her behind. He urged her against him.

If she had doubted his intentions, the hardness pressing against her stomach cleared that doubt in a hurry. Terri felt a slow smile curve her lips, and she shifted to rub against him. "But I've already show¬ered," she protested.

"Another won't hurt," Bastien said solemnly. "You can never be too clean. Or too wet."

One hand slid around to cup her breasts, and Terri gasped as his other hand dipped between her legs.

"No. You can never be too clean. Or too wet," she whispered, just before his mouth claimed hers again.

Bastien eased cautiously from the bed, doing his best not to wake Terri. She hadn't had much sleep the last couple of days. Last night had been especially short, thanks to the trip to the hospital. He'd still be asleep himself if a need for blood hadn't awakened him.

Kneeling next to the bed, Bastien opened the fridge hidden under it. He retrieved a bag of blood, then stood slowly and glanced at Terri to be sure she still slept. He wouldn't even have risked collecting the blood from the room if it weren't for the fact that he needed it so badly, and that the fridge in his office was empty. He should have had more brought in, but he kept forgetting. His mind seemed full of nothing but Terri of late.

Assured she still slept, Bastien grabbed the robe off the end of the bed, eased the blood bag into its pocket, and shrugged it onto his shoulders as he tip¬toed to the bedroom door. He eased into the hall and pulled the door carefully closed, only then relaxing and moving at normal speed. He headed right to the kitchen. He often found it necessary to consume blood out of a bag, but it was rather like drinking milk out of the carton. A glass was always preferable. And so long as Terri was safely asleep, it was possible.

Bastien fetched a pint glass, emptied a good por¬tion of the blood into it, and was savoring the liquid when the kitchen door opened and Vincent walked in. Startled, Bastien jerked around, slopping the liquid in his glass.

"You're awake," his cousin said in surprise.

"Yes." Bastien set the glass on the counter with a curse, grabbed a paper towel, and bent to wipe up the blood on the floor. He grabbed another towel to wipe up the bit that had slopped onto his chest.

"I didn't expect you to be up yet, and when I heard someone moving around in here..." His cousin shrugged. "Where's Terri?"

"Still sleeping."

"Your bed or hers?"

Bastien ignored his cousin's question and straight¬ened to toss the bloody paper towel in the garbage under the sink. It was really none of the other man's business. Vincent already knew too much. The man had been witness to his humiliating experience with Josephine, and now he was here for the second time Bastien fell in love. Not that he had truly loved Josephine. That had been more of an infatuation. He could see that now. Coming to care for Terri as he had had shown that to Bastien. His feelings for Josephine had been mild in the extreme, compared to the passion and enjoyment he enjoyed with Terri. Which meant it was going to hurt that much more when she turned her back on him as Josephine had. And once more, Vincent would bear witness to the event.

"I wouldn't enjoy witnessing such an event now, any more than I did then, cousin," Vincent said qui-etly, obviously reading his thoughts. "Besides, I don't see this ending the same way. Terri isn't Josephine."

Bastien shifted with irritation. He picked up his glass of blood and drank some of the thick liquid. He really needed to remember to guard his thoughts bet¬ter. He was so distracted by the uproar Terri was causing him emotionally, and all without her even trying, that he was leaving his thoughts open for just anyone to read.

"Terri's different. She won't react like Josephine," Vincent insisted.

"How do you know?" Bastien knew he sounded angry, but really his tone was to cover the hope that was trying to grow inside him. He wanted to believe his cousin was right, but he was afraid.

"This is a different era. Josephine thought you were a monster, an abomination. Terri is a modern woman, with enough intelligence to understand the science of it," Vincent argued. "And consider the benefits to her should she join us. Forever young and beautiful, and forever strong and healthy? Few would pass that up."

"She could still turn away," Bastien argued. "Not everyone wants to live forever."

"You're right, of course," the actor agreed. "She might not. So why risk it? Give her up and forget about her."

Bastien gave him a speaking glance.

"No, huh?" Vincent arched an eyebrow. "Then I guess you'll have to risk it, won't you? Every day is a risk, everything we do. Would you really give this up willingly, or bypass it altogether, to avoid possible pain later--pain that might never come?"

The answer to that was simple enough: No. Bastien couldn't willingly give her up had he wanted. She was like a drug and he a drug addict; he was con¬stantly jonesing for a Terri fix. No, he couldn't give her up. He had known that for a while. What he was experiencing now was worth any price later. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to fret about what would come.

"Well, hell," Vincent snapped, reading Bastien's thoughts. "You mean to say you didn't need me to try to talk you into this? Why did you let me ramble on about it, if you already knew you were going to go for it?"

"I like talking about her," Bastien said. He shrugged. "I like being with her better, but the next best thing is talking about her. And it's always nice to have your hopes bolstered."

Vincent made a sound of disgust and turned to¬ward the door. "I'm out of here."

"When will you be back?" Bastien asked, follow¬ing him out into the entry to await the elevator.

"Late Sunday night or early Monday morning," he answered, then quirked an eyebrow as the elevator ar¬rived and the doors slid open. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"No. What does it mean?" Bastien asked curiously.

"You have the entire penthouse--and Terri--to yourself for the whole weekend." Vincent stepped onto the elevator. "You can make love to her in any room you want, any time of the day or night, and not worry how loud she gets. She does get loud, cousin," he added as he turned and hit the button for the ground floor. "You must be doing something right."

Bastien grinned.

"Heck, you can even make love to her in the eleva¬tor." Vincent waggled his eyebrows as the doors started to close. "Catch it on tape, maybe, and keep it for posterity."

Bastien couldn't tell Vincent what he thought of that idea; the doors were already closed. But he'd never do that to Terri... unless she knew and wanted to. They could catch it on film and watch it later and... He shook his head at the idea. Too risky.

He didn't want personal tapes of Terri floating around. What if something happened and it got away from him? But he could make love to her in any room in the penthouse now. They'd already made love in the living room, on the couch, but they hadn't tried the bar. Or the pool table. Or the floor. Then there was the kitchen, the-- A nice soak in the Jacuzzi with her would be nice, too. Of course they could have done that anyway, since the Jacuzzi was in the master suite, but...

Realizing that he was standing in the entryway thinking about making love to Terri, when he could be actually doing it, Bastien gave himself a shake. He started down the hall to the bedroom, realized he still carried the now empty glass, and did an about-face. He rushed back to the kitchen to give it a quick rinse before setting it in the sink. Then he headed for the bedroom to wake up Terri.

Terri tossed another acceptable flower into the ap¬propriate box, then stretched and stood. It was late af¬ternoon, and Bastien had yet to wake up. He had been awake already today. Twice. First, when he'd followed her into the shower, then when he'd crawled into bed at midday and woken her up in the most delicious manner she could imagine.

Bastien had kissed and caressed her awake, telling her as he slid his hands over her body that Vincent had left for the weekend, which meant they had the whole apartment to themselves. Terri had chuckled at the glee with which he'd said that, and then again as he'd told her each and every room and spot in the penthouse where he planned to make love to her. Then she'd stopped chuckling as things got serious. Seriously heated. The man was a dynamo in bed, arousing her passions like no one else could.

Despite his big plans, they hadn't made it out of bed. It hadn't mattered; they hadn't needed the extra impetus of new places to excite them--they'd done quite nicely right there in the master suite. Had they ever! Terri's body urged her to stretch again as tingles of awareness slid through her at the memory.

Afterward, she'd fallen asleep in his arms. But Terri hadn't slept long. She'd awoken an hour ago and tip¬toed out of the room to take another shower before going in search of food. Getting a bowl of cereal, she'd come into the office to make a couple more flowers and eat while she waited for Bastien. The man was taking his time, however. Perhaps she should go wake him up as he had her, Terri thought with a small smile.

Deciding that was a fine idea, she stored the bag of Kleenex boxes and string back in the office closet where Vincent had put it the night before, then picked up her empty cereal bowl and carried it to the kitchen. Terri gave it a quick rinse, then dried and put it away. Then she headed to the bedroom.

Bastien was dead to the world when she entered. Terri approached the bed silently, her gaze on his face as she walked. He was a dear man--and just as adorable in sleep as he was awake, she decided, taking in the way that his hair was standing on end as if he had been running a hand through it. She wanted to smooth that hair for him. Terri also wanted to kiss his lips, which looked so soft and relaxed in sleep.

Pausing beside the bed, she hesitated, then quickly shed her clothes and climbed onto the mattress to crawl to Bastien's side. Arriving next to him, she hes¬itated again, unsure where to start. Terri had awoken earlier to find him kissing and caressing her. But he hadn't been kissing her lips. His mouth, as well as his hands, had been playing over her body.

Deciding to take a leaf out of his book, she care¬fully eased the blankets and sheets off of him until only his feet were covered. Then Terri just had to pause and stare. Dear God, the man was gorgeous, a delight to the eye. She took a moment to enjoy the view, then shook herself into action. Kissing and caress¬ing, she reminded herself. But where to start? There was so much of Bastien that she would like to kiss.

After a pause, she decided his chest would be a good place to start, and Terri eased closer and began to press light little kisses across his pectoral muscles. She steadied herself with one hand, while she ran the other lightly across the flat muscles of his stomach. Bastien moaned and shifted under her touch, but didn't wake up. Terri managed to make her way down past his belly button, and was pressing light lit¬tle butterfly kisses along his hipbone, before he stiff¬ened, telling her he was awake.

Well, one part of him had grown stiff before her kisses and caresses had reached his belly button, but Terri knew he still hadn't been awake yet then. Now he was.

"Terri." Her name was a soft growl that she ig¬nored. She also ignored the hand that landed on her shoulder and tried to urge her upward and away from where she was headed. She wanted to do this for him, and was determined not to be distracted.

Of course, that was before she reached the main target and realized she wasn't sure she would be any good. It had been a long while. That fact made her pause for only a moment, though; then Terri decided that there was only one way to find out: to just go for it. And since that seemed to be the motto for this relationship...

Besides, Terri thought, if she made a complete flub of it, she could always apologize sweetly and go read a how-to article off the Internet. They had instruc¬tions on everything else on the Web, there must be something on this as well. It was just a shame she hadn't thought to do so beforehand. But then, Terri thought, hindsight was always 20/20.