Disclaimer: Characters are copyrighted to Marvel.

A/N: You guys kick ass! So here's a little treat. Read, review and enjoy ! ;)

-oOo-

Mix 'n' Match

(10) Stolen Kisses

It was nearing the end of the evening at the Annual Braddock Gala and for the first time since her arrival in England Betsy truly felt at home. She and Warren had been practically glued to each other's sides the entire night, dancing and chatting until the early hours. She'd found herself becoming warmer and warmer to him as the night progressed. Now, as they stood aside exhausted from the dancing, they'd finally got a chance to really get to know one another.

"Forgive me for saying this," he said, still trying to catch his breath from a rather energetic dance of tango, "but you seem rather preoccupied tonight, Betsy."

"I'm just nervous about my mother, is all," she half-lied. "She can be such a handful, and I've been ear-marked for a lecture ever since…"

"Ever since?" he pressed her.

"Ever since I gave up modeling," she confessed.

"That's one thing I don't understand," he replied, puzzled. "You had such a great career. Why give it up?"

"Well," Betsy began reluctantly, "I have a…friend… who got me interested in the environment. I didn't know until I met…this person… that it was something I really felt passionately about. So much of the fashion industry is incompatible with my beliefs, Warren. Quitting was like standing up for what I believed in."

"I see," he replied. "So what are you doing now?"

She blushed. "Nothing, actually. That's why mother's so angry with me right now."

"Not to worry." He patted her hand comfortingly, "I'm sure something will come along."

"You think I'm selfish, don't you," she muttered.

"Not at all," he smiled broadly. "I admire you for having your convictions. I just wish… there was some way of reconciling your love of the environment with your obvious talent with fashion."

"If you think of a way, tell me," she returned wryly.

"I will do," he grinned. "Listen, I'm feeling kinda peckish. You mind if I just go grab some snacks from the refreshments table?"

"Not at all."

He left and after 5 minutes of waiting he still hadn't come back. Betsy's eyes wandered over at the refreshment's table to find him talking to some blonde-haired, teenage waitress. Her heart sunk. So he really had thought she was selfish. She couldn't really blame him either. Here she was, wasting her talent and leeching off her family's money. Feeling crestfallen, she'd been about to walk away when someone had tapped her back from behind. For a second she'd feared it was her mom but when she turned she'd found herself faced with an old friend.

"Hank McCoy!" she gasped.

The handsome, well-built, brown-haired ex-soccer-superstar gaped as she smothered him in her embrace.

"It's nice to see you too Betsy."

The two had been school friends and hadn't met since leaving high school.

"My God, Hank, how good it is to see you!"

"You too, my dear Betsy," he enthused, pulling back to get a good look at her. "My, my – forgive me for quoting the proverbial phrase, but you've grown into a very beautiful young woman."

"Don't be silly!" She slapped his arm playfully. "You're the one who's grown! Look at the size of those biceps! Are you still playing football?"

"Now and then. Actually, I'm now working as your father's assistant in the labs. That's why I'm here, though admittedly, I am a little late." He looked sheepish. Betsy nodded.

"Yes, dad told me you were promoted to Head Assistant, he had a few very good words to say about you." She squeezed his arm again affectionately. "I also heard you were dating that American media mogul – oh, what's her name – Trish Tilby?"

"The very one." She didn't think his beam could get any bigger. "We're exceedingly happy together, even if I do say so myself. And you? I can't imagine that someone as delectable as yourself could possibly be unattached," he half joked in his usual flowery language. Betsy frowned to herself. Hank certainly hadn't heard about her leaving her modeling career because of her relationship with Neal, and she was reluctant to explain it to him.

"Well, there is someone," she replied evasively, "but I'm not sure just how serious things are right now…"

What was the matter with her? She'd never been unsure about Neal, and here she was saying all this. She cast a glance over Hank's shoulder, looking in vain for Warren. There he was, still at the table, chatting happily away with that blonde girl. Hank caught her looking and turned round slightly, following her gaze.

"Ah," he began. "I take it that's the lucky man in question?"

"Uh – no," Betsy replied quickly. "He's just… an acquaintance I made this evening." She paused, then asked in a quieter voice: "Do you know who that girl is?"

Hank turned subtly again, lifting his glasses to get a better look. "Her? That's Paige Guthrie. American girl, from Kentucky. I think your parents have employed her as an au pair for a couple of months." He turned back to her. "I do believe the man she's with is Warren Worthington III, right?"

"Yes," Betsy nodded. "Did she… mention Warren at all to you, Hank?"

He gave her a curious look. "Well, when I came in she was asking me who he was. Kept on pumping me for information, you know, the usual stuff… Who is he, what does he do…Is he single…?" His smile was wry. "I think she likes him."

"I think he likes her too," Betsy muttered a little more crossly than she'd meant.

"Why, Betsy," Hank grinned wickedly. "Do I detect a little bit of the old green-eyed monster there?"

Betsy shook herself. "Of course not!" she retorted with mock indignation. "You know I only have eyes for you, Hank McCoy!"

"I know, I know!" he sighed, feigning vexation. "I hear the same thing from girls the whole world over! They just can't leave me alone!"

She giggled. It had been a long-standing joke during their school days that Betsy had had a big crush on the handsome young Henry McCoy, which had remained unrequited since Hank had been much more enamored with both sports and science. Nevertheless they had remained good friends and Betsy instinctively knew there were no hard feelings.

"You are a darling," she exclaimed, giving him a fond hug and a kiss on the cheek. At that very moment Warren just happened to turn around and for a second their gazes met. Then he turned back to Paige, a small frown on his face. Betsy hadn't meant for him to see her display of affection, but considering the circumstances, and since she was just a little cross with him for leaving her stranded, she was glad he'd seen after all. She pulled back a bit and gave Hank a beaming smile. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you again, Hank. There's so much we have to catch up on! What do you say we get some punch and go to some quiet spot where we can talk?"

"Ah!" Hank rubbed his hands with relish. "How well you know me and my penchant for a good old confabulation!"

She snorted inelegantly as they made their way to refreshments table. "Don't you mean gossip?"

"Nothing but," he grinned. "Did you know Lucas Bishop from 9th grade is together with Tessa Niles of all people!"

"What!" she exclaimed. "You mean they finally got together! I thought we'd never see the day! Those two just seemed… I don't know… So sexless!"

They'd reached the punch bowl and Betsy found herself standing right next to Warren, who she managed to ignore with an effort.

"Well, you know what they say about the mysterious, intense ones," Hank remarked merrily as he poured punch for the both of them, "They're always the ones you should watch out for."

"As usual, Hank, you are so right," Betsy agreed, not seeing Warren's eyes following her with a disappointed gaze as she and Hank disappeared into a corner.

-oOo-

Meanwhile, Bobby was peeking cautiously over the kitchen counter and into the lounge where Emma was sitting, dejected, dabbing an elegant silk hanky at her eyelids. He knew she was feeling embarrassed, and had left her to make some tea while he gave her the chance to make herself more presentable. She was an excessively proud woman and it upset him to see her in this state – but he couldn't really pity her, because much as he admired her, he knew she was partly to blame for this latest fiasco. Carlos had been milking her for ages and she'd simply allowed it to carry on.

He poured some milk into her tea and added the sprinkle of sugar he knew she liked. He felt a little uncertain how to act. Seeing her now, his illusions about Emma had vanished. Now he saw her for what she was – not the untouchable ice maiden he'd thought her to be, but a normal, flawed human being. Nevertheless, if anything, it made him like her all the more. It gave him hope that there was a warm heart beating somewhere in that icy exterior. And he had to admit – he did prefer this much-chastened Emma a lot better than the arrogant one.

"Here's your tea, Ms. Frost," he said, walking up to her and handing her the teacup. She took it gratefully as he sat down on the sofa beside her, floundering for words. The gap between them had closed a little – but only so much. What on earth was a low-life student like him supposed to say to her?

C'mon, Bobby, stop laying into yourself all the time! If she can hang around with a loser like Carlos then your opinion's definitely got to be worth something to her…

"Feeling better now?" he finally blurted. She nodded, sniffed, and managed a watery smile through an uncharacteristically sheepish expression.

"Yes, thank you. Look, Bobby, I'm sorry you had to witness all that… It really was a most disgusting affair and it was irresponsible of me to lose it in front of my staff…"

"Emma," he interjected reassuringly, "it's okay. I don't think any less of you for getting mad. In fact, the guy deserved it." He shrugged and smiled humorously. "Come on, we're all human, right? I would've done the same if I was in your place."

"But forcing you to take care of me like this when you should be home…" she protested.

"Not another word!" he insisted good-naturedly. "I may be your gardener, Ms. Frost, but I'd like to think we're friends too. And what are friends for, huh?"

She blinked in surprise at him, then looked down into her teacup, a somewhat dazzled look on her face. "You really are a piece of work, you know that Bobby Drake?" she stated in a low voice.

"That's what all the girls say," he grinned. She gave a slight smile, then sighed.

"Still, I really would've preferred you not to have seen the scene I made out there. It's just that…"

"You don't like me seeing you look out of control?" he offered. She stared at him sharply, amazed. Was he some kind of mind reader now or something? Knowing her thoughts, he nodded. "You know, Emma, you shouldn't be afraid to be a little human now and then. We all have faults. This ice queen act you're always putting on…maybe it works in the business world, but it isn't something you have to take home with you. You aren't as hard-hearted as you make out to be. People won't think any less of you if you open up a little, even if it does make you have to act out of control sometimes."

Emma looked back into her cup, chewing her lower lip as she ruminated over his words. He was half-glad she hadn't bitten his head off yet, but somehow he knew she was feeling too dispirited to be sharp with him.

"You don't understand, Bobby," she sighed. "I really don't think it is an act anymore… It's just the way I learnt to cope with life when I was younger… It was the only way I could make something of myself in this world, and now that I am something I just can't get rid of it."

"You're something to me," he assured her softly, automatically. She looked up at him again, those big blue eyes of her questioning as they gazed into his. God, she really is gorgeous, he thought… "What I mean is," he hastened to add, flushing a little, "that you mean something to me and to all your friends, so there's no need to think you have to pretend to be something else, okay? 'Cos who really cares what the outside world thinks? It's your friends that matter, right?"

Dammit, he groaned, why do I always have to open that big mouth of mine!

But she was smiling. It wasn't big or sunny, but it was enough to make him wish that she'd smile more often. The way it lit up her face…

"Thanks, Bobby," she said, "I don't know what I'd do without you. You wouldn't believe it but… you've been a rock to me ever since you came here."

"Like you needed one," he half joked. "You're so thick-skinned I'm amazed anyone could hurt you. Anyone would've thought you had diamond skin or something!"

"Well, my 'diamond skin' didn't work today, did it," she muttered, hanging her head again.

"Hey," Bobby leaned in towards her comfortingly. "Don't be hard on yourself. It's over now. Just be the same old Emma Frost you usually are, pick yourself up and move on, forget all about that loser."

"I deserved everything I got," she mumbled disagreeably.

"Yes, you did," he nodded, his tone serious. He knew she'd be surprised that he'd had the guts to say so, but when she didn't berate him he was heartened. "Listen Emma, you're a great woman. You're rich and clever and beautiful. You could have any man you wanted – you really have no excuse for not picking a nice, decent man who treats you right for once."

"What, you mean a man like you?" she joked, passing him a sly grin. He was glad to see something of the old Emma back.

"Well, if you put it that way…" he smirked back at her smugly. "But I'm being serious though – you deserve no less. I can't believe you settled for a loser like Carlos!"

"Me neither, believe me," she murmured. "To be honest, Bobby, I'm a little scared of a proper relationship." She paused and bit her lip, obviously ashamed to admit it. "I've never treated any man as my equal – how on earth am I supposed to bring a guy into my life and let him see me completely for what I am? I know I'm just human and that I'm not perfect, but I… I just don't think I could handle it."

"Then give yourself time," he shrugged. He knew it was an effort for her to say all that she had, and he was astonished at just how much she was letting him in. Not that he was complaining… "You don't have to go straight into a deep relationship with anyone," he continued. "Just a few casual dates here and there, getting to know someone – breaking the ice, so to speak…"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't know you were such an expert on relationships!"

"Who, me? I don't think so… I always screw up with girls." He pouted and she laughed lightly.

"I can't imagine why. You really are very sweet, Bobby Drake. I guess I'm lucky to have you around as my relationship counselor."

He grinned, though feeling somewhat disappointed at her statement. It was the same old story – he always ended up being 'just a good friend'. Still, why would Emma of all people want him? He was only her gardener, who'd just happened to pick up her spirits when she'd needed it… Besides, the differences between them were just too great. She deserved some big cheese from some huge corporation, someone who could wine and dine her, who could make her feel as special as she was. Not some lowly gardener…

"Well, I was glad to be of assistance," he replied, getting up quickly and giving a small, theatrical bow. "I guess I'm really earning that raise now, aren't I."

"You most certainly are," she agreed, laughing. It was probably the first time he'd heard her genuinely laugh and he beamed.

"Well, now that I've done my day's work, I should be heading home… I have some studying to do for my midterms next week."

"Alright," she stood up, and he thought he detected a little hint of disappointment on her face… or had he imagined it? "I won't keep you from your studies. You must have enough on your plate without taking care of your battleaxe boss," she added with a wry and self-deprecating smirk.

"Hey now, if battleaxes were as beautiful as you, then I'd agree with you," he winked, then blushed a little at how far he was pushing the line. "Um… I'll just see myself out."

"No, don't be silly," she insisted quickly. "I'll see you out. It's the least I can do."

She opened the door for him and they stood on the threshold for a moment, unsure of how to make their goodbyes. Despite everything, something had changed between them and they instinctively knew that they wouldn't be able to change it back again.

"Thanks again, Bobby," she finally said softly, awkwardly. "You've been… a great friend."

He knew it took a lot for her to admit it and he smiled encouragingly. "Anytime, Ms. Frost. I'll see you again on Wednesday, right?"

"Okay," she nodded. "We'll talk about that raise."

"Awesome."

He turned to go but he'd only got down one step before she stopped him almost as an afterthought.

"Bobby?"

He turned expectantly.

"What?"

She hesitated for just a second before leaning over and pressing her lips lightly against his own. It was only a feather touch of a kiss, but it was more than enough to send his poor heart racing like a Formula One sportscar. The second or two the kiss lasted seemed to last forever and when she finally pulled away he was breathless.

"Goodnight, Bobby," she said quietly, and gently pushed the door shut.

Bobby was left on the doorstep, his breath still caught in his throat, his muscles still frozen in shock before he finally found himself thawing just enough to cloud-walk back to his bike and cycle home. Suddenly it seemed as if the clouds had broken and choirs of angels were singing in a glorious shaft of sunlight. Emma Frost had kissed him!

Wow! He thought to himself as he blithely ignored the trail of cars honking violently behind him, so giddy that even if one of those cars decided to run him over he knew he'd die happy. A few minutes of deep, girly conversation and she's putty in your hands! Drake, you are one smooth operator! Face it – you're da man!

-xXx-

Even though Logan had been busy with his customers, he and Jean had shared a long conversation throughout the night until she was the only one left and the rest of the bar attendants were closing up. She was surprised to find that she had so much to talk about to someone who seemed so different in stature and lifestyle to herself, but actually, they had a lot in common – temperament, outlooks on life and strength of character. She thought she'd finally worked out what she liked so much about him – he had a passionate and fiery personality that was so much like her own, something that Scott definitely lacked. It wasn't that Scott was boring… It was just that sometimes he could be so staid and responsible, and cutting loose seemed an almost dangerous thing to him. Earlier in their relationship, they'd balanced each other's traits out – he'd kept her calm and in-check, she'd helped him to live a little. But now they seemed so stuck in a rut…

Jean absently checked her cell phone to see if she'd missed any calls from him and had mixed feelings when she saw that he hadn't.

"Shouldn't you be gettin' back?" Logan asked her, looking at his watch. "Wouldn't want t' keep you from bein' able to get up for work tomorrow mornin'."

"It's no problem," she answered, slipping the phone back into her handbag. "I have the day off tomorrow to take care of…"

She cut herself off abruptly, her heart suddenly racing. To take care of wedding arrangements. She's almost been about to say it. Well, maybe she should have. It was ridiculous of her to lie to a man she barely knew. Wasn't it?

Yes it was! But she still couldn't do it.

"I have the day off to look after a friend of mine," she finished hastily. "She's sick and doesn't have any relatives out here, so I offered to help her out."

"I see," Logan nodded. "Doctor doing her part for the community, huh?"

"Nah, just being a friend," she shrugged. "We're a pretty close-knit circle of friends, always looking out for each other…"

"I suppose when you're single, it's easier to concentrate on friendships like that…" he said quickly, not looking at her. "Broads are always so damn cliquey when they're single."

"I suppose we are," she nodded. One lie leads to another…

"Me, I ain't got no one," he confessed, a little too flippantly. "No real close friends either… Only got myself to concentrate on really."

She was surprised. "But everyone round here respects you…"

"Respect's a whole different ball game to friendship, Red," he commented dourly. "Sometimes y' have to get people to fear you before you gain their respect. And I ain't been nice t' some people round here in my time, if you know what I mean." He paused, seeing her questioning look. "Don't get me wrong. It's not something this Canuck's proud of. But it's just the way I operate, I guess. A lonewolf… don't take no quarter, don't give none."

"But you seem like such a great guy to me," she reasoned, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Honestly," she assured him, "I don't see anything inherently bad about you at all. You're…nice. At least to me. Why use bully tactics at all?"

"Just the way I am," he returned stiffly, looking away as he cleaned a glass.

"I'm sorry Logan, but I just can't believe it." She shook her head. "And I can't believe you've been alone all your life. You seem perfectly capable of making relationships to me. You don't stutter, you don't make rude remarks, you don't come across as anything but entirely natural, so…" She finished on a shrug.

"Well, there was someone once," he replied, pausing in his work thoughtfully. "But it was a long time ago…"

"It didn't work out?"

"Nope."

"She left you?"

"Nope."

"Then what?"

He paused, his eyes hard before he finally answered. "She died."

Jean was shocked.

"Oh… I'm so, so sorry, I shouldn't have been so insensitive…"

"It's nothing," he replied bluntly. "Like I said, it was a long time ago. Ancient history, darlin'."

There was an awkward silence and Jean kicked herself mentally for being so brusque with him. Of course he'd hate her now… She looked at him, seeing the downturn of his mouth and the furrow in his brow, and she just knew she'd over-stayed her welcome.

"Well… I suppose I'd better be getting back," she voiced at last, shame-faced. "It is rather late…"

"Look, Jean." He laid down the glass and suddenly turned to her seriously, using her real name for the first time. "Really, it was nothin'. I ain't mad at you, okay? I just…hadn't thought about it in a long time, y'know?"

"I'm still sorry," she replied quietly. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that." She grinned half-heartedly at him. "Still, I really should be getting home. My friend will be wanting me kind of early…"

"Okay, I won't keep you." He half-smiled back. "No hard feelin's, eh?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "Don't be silly! And thanks for another great night, Logan. It's been…nice talking to you."

"You too, Red. You too."

She gave him one last smile before leaving, feeling half guilty and half flustered. She wasn't sure whether it was because she'd allowed herself to get too close to another man, because she'd put her foot right in it, or because she'd been lying so shamelessly. She had to admit – this was a situation that definitely wasn't to her liking.

From now on, Jean Grey, she told herself firmly while in the cab home, you are not going to set a foot into that club ever again. Full stop, period! It's time you ended these childish fantasies and started acting like the adult woman that you are.

And yet, even though she wasn't quite aware of it herself, her heart panged to know she wouldn't be seeing the man named Logan ever again.

-oOo-

Early the next morning found Betsy being chauffeured by Jeffrey to Heathrow Airport, ready for her journey back to the United States, a morose look on her beautiful features. Despite her disagreements with her mother she felt a little sad to be leaving her family behind again. She did love them all after all, annoying though Elisabeth Sr. and her brother Jamie could sometimes be. On the whole, she'd enjoyed being with them – catching up on gossip with her twin, Brian, and being with her dad again, who always reassured her that he would be proud of her whatever she did.

And then there was Warren Worthington. He was what was really worrying her. The two had been getting on like a house on fire and she'd found herself really warming to him. It hadn't helped not knowing whether she was currently attached or not. Neal still hadn't called her, and he had been really mad with her before she'd left. Did he want to break it up with her or not? Did she really need to have feelings for another man or not?

She sighed and shook her head. It hadn't mattered because Warren was obviously much more interested in that teenage tramp, Paige Guthrie.

It really is disgusting, she thought with disapproval. What on earth could a mature and responsible man like Warren see in an uncultured country hick like that!

Betsy sighed. It'd only been one night of great dancing, she was better off forgetting it. But when he'd taken her in his arms and tangoed with her, that dance of passion and lust… How could she forget something like that!

After the fond farewells with Jeffery, she'd dragged her luggage into the airport and got ready to check-in at the first-class desk. She'd made sure to leave early so there wouldn't be too much hassle with queues and under-staffed computers, but as she got to the desk she saw that there was already one other person who'd had exactly the same idea as she had. From the back, she could see the familiar longish blond hair, the strong stance and broad back. She almost dropped her bags in surprise when she saw who it was.

"Warren!" she cried.

The man turned round, and when he recognized her, his expression was one of surprise.

"Betsy?"He paused as he looked down at her luggage, calming somewhat. "Looks like we're taking the same flight," he commented.

"Seems so," she muttered, shifting awkwardly on her feet.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asked rather sourly. "You know, the guy at the gala last night?" he added when she looked blank.

"You mean Hank?" she voiced in surprise. "Hank's not my boyfriend. He's just an old schoolmate."

"Oh." He looked a little abashed and was about to say something more when Betsy was conveniently called up to a free check-in desk.

"Well…" she began, thinking she didn't owe him anything, that she didn't even really want to talk to him since he'd made it clear he didn't care much for her at all. "…Bye."

His countenance was a mixture of disappointment and confusion as she whipped round and stalked off.

"Bye," he murmured.

-xXx-

I've made a decision.

I'm going to take Jean's advice and get a hold of my life. No more face-off's with Remy LeBeau. No more putting myself down, no more self-doubt, and definitely no more leaving my apartment in such a mess it looks like a bomb shelter. The past is past, the future lies before me. Anna Raven is now, officially, taking control of her life!

Again.

It's the day after my little tete-a-tete with Jean and I'd gone to work feeling refreshed and confident that I am going to turn over a new leaf. I'm going to be the strong silent type who is firm and capable, but doesn't take any crap from anybody. It's already 4:30 pm and so far so good. I haven't put a foot wrong. I stroll down the corridor, papers in hand, humming merrily to myself. It's almost a good end to what's been an amazingly good day. No embarrassing faux pas, no combustible run-ins with Remy LeBeau. See, all I needed was to believe in myself for a change, just like Jean said.

I walk into the creative team's office to find Peter already at work with various sketches spread out all over the table. To my surprise, Kitty's with him, offering advice.

"Hey Kitty," I greet my new friend. "What's up? Ah thought you were meant to be helpin' Lila sort out Mr. LeBeau's files today."

"I was." Kitty looks up from Peter's work, beaming. "But thanks to Peter here, Mr. LeBeau said I could help out on the team for a trial period."

"Really!" I ask, amazed. "Just what've you been up to, Petey?"

"Nothing really," he smiles rather sheepishly. "Kitty's just wasted on file clerk duties. She's a wizard with computers, so I suggested to Mr. LeBeau that he put her on the campaign's digital editing."

"So now I get to help you and Peter out," Kitty grins.

"Kitty, that's great!" I enthuse, glad to see another ally on my side.

"It sure is," Peter nods, smiling at the small girl sitting next to him. "Kitty and I… we make a great team."

"Ah can see that already," I remark smilingly. I can't help but notice the eyes the two are making at each other. Maybe I should start up a career in matchmaking. Maybe then I could match-make myself.

"So where've you been anyway?" Kitty asks me. "I thought you and Petey were supposed to be working together this afternoon."

"Much as I lurve bein' with the Siberian plough-boy, Kitty," I grin humorously, "Today I had other duties. Ah had to get Tabby Smith workin' on costumes for Ms. Munroe, and literally bully Robert Kelly into changing his hideous color schemes… Ah just don't know how on earth L&L managed to stay afloat all these years when he seems t' think we're still livin' in the 50's…"

"That's because Mr. LeBeau always kept him in check," Peter smiles. "He knows exactly what he wants and if he doesn't like it, he won't have it."

"Ah bet," I reply, a frown creasing my lips. It's not as if I haven't had personal proof of it already. "Speakin' of – Ah really have to get the copies of our storyboardin' down to Mr. Ah'm-Too-Sexy-For-Mah-Shirt before home time, so Ah guess Ah'll see y'all later, guys."

"Bye, Anna," Kitty replies. "Oh, and by the way – don't be too confrontational with the guy, okay? Mr. LeBeau's in a bit of a bad mood today."

"Is he?" I query thoughtfully. Well this is a piece of news. The Cajun's usually irrepressible in his slimy smoothness. I'm wondering what on earth could possibly rile him up. I've tried it myself a few times already, but not even slapping him one seems to work.

"Yeah. Lila forwarded him a letter this morning, and it must've got his wind up because he's been holed up in his office all morning. It just isn't like him."

Hmmm. So that's why he hasn't come round to harass me.

"Well Ah must say it surprises me that anythin' short of shootin' the man can get him down. Thanks for the head's up Kitty. Ah'm sure Ah can handle anythin' Mr. LeBeau can throw at me."

"So are we," Pete grins. "That's why we don't want you to go falling for any bait he dangles in front of you, okay, Anna? We don't want to have to break up any fights between you two."

"Ah'll be on mah best behavior, scout's honor." I cross my heart and give them both an innocent look. "You won't hear a peep outta me."

I leave the room, getting the sense they'd rather have me out of the way anyway. Momma always did tell me that three's a crowd, and I know when my presence isn't required.

I glance at my watch. 4: 48 pm. I've managed to get through most of the day avoiding my so-called boss. Unfortunately, I can't stave off the necessity of handing in my project updates, so I'd purposely decided to do so just before 5pm so our meeting can be conveniently cut off before anything gets out of hand. Since the conversation with Jean yesterday, I've been feeling wary of Remy's presence. Okay, suppose I actually do like him, and my anger was a cover for that? That's what I'm really worried about, not some fight.

I knock on the door of his office lightly, feeling stupid for being so fainthearted.

"Mr. LeBeau? Remy?"

All's quiet, so I knock again and still get no answer. I start to feel relieved and think I'll just slip the papers in his pigeonhole when I hear him call from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

I steel myself and push the door open. He's standing behind his desk, a cream-colored letter in his hand, an absent-minded expression on his face. Thinking I've caught him at an inconvenient time, I intend to make a quick escape.

"Oh, Ah'm sorry Mr. LeBeau, Ah didn't know you were busy…"

He raises his dark eyes to me as I begin to retreat and hastily throws the letter onto his desk.

"Oh… Anna… No, s'alright… I ain't busy. Come in. What is it y' wanted?"

I catch the tone of his voice. There's none of the usual cocky, Cajun arrogance to it. Looking at his face I realize he doesn't just seem absent-minded. There's something more. Worry? Concern? I hesitate. I've never seen him look so…haunted before.

"Oh, uh, it's nothin' really," I mutter quickly. "Jus' Petey an' Ah finished doing that storyboarding for the ad you wanted, an' Ah thought Ah'd show you the copies before Ah left, but if you're occupied…"

"Non, non, I ain't occupied," he interrupts abruptly. He gives me a pale smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I'd love t' see your work, Anna."

He crosses over to the other side of the desk and I pass him the papers. He leafs through them but still seems distracted. I find myself staring at his eyes beneath those long lashes of his, trying to read the emotion in them. Something's obviously bothering him. From the moment we met he's been pushing all my buttons relentlessly – it isn't like him not to make a move on me. It suddenly occurs to me that maybe I'm sore I'm no longer the center of his attention, but I put that thought away immediately. Still, it must take a lot to divert his attention from harassing me…

I take a glance over at the letter lying on the desk. No – not a letter – an invitation. A cream-colored, frilly one with gold print on the envelope…

"Friend of yours gettin' married?" I blurt out without thinking. As soon as I say it, I realize I've let my big mouth run away with me – again. Way to go, Roguey!

His eyes flash under the lashes, but he pretends to carry on reading and says; "Yes," as nonchalantly as he can.

His jaw is tense. I can hardly believe my luck! I've found out where Remy LeBeau's secret button is and I have a chance to get him back and press it for all it's worth! I just can't help myself. I go in for the plunge, stab the knife in a little deeper.

"Good friend?" I asked casually.

He lowers his head, grits his teeth, loosens his jaw, takes a deep breath and replies: "Once upon a time."

There's real pain in his voice this time, enough to make me relent. Despite all the hell he's put me through, I can't bear to kick someone when they're down. Besides, it wasn't so much hell he put me through as a fairly brutal course of Flirtation for the High-Powered Businessperson, and honestly, I'm as flirtatious as the next girl. I stare down at the wedding invite again. Whoever she was, he must've cared for her a lot. A smidgen of jealously streaks through me, but I can't bear to acknowledge it. Nevertheless I still feel guilty for baiting him. I take in a shaky breath and say: "oh."

He looks up at me then and I look back at him. Until that moment I hadn't realized how close we'd been standing to one another. In the space of that one glance, I feel it again. The electricity between us. Looking into his eyes, I realize – he feels it too. He slowly places the files back down on the desk, holds my gaze and says: "Anna…"

And I say: "Mr. LeBeau…"

And he says: "Remy."

And I correct myself and say: "Remy…"

I want to sneer and insult him and walk away and slam the door in his face. I want to grab my files and run. I want to apologize for calling his bluff and toying with him. I want to say I'm sorry and that I hope he gets over Whoever-She-Is someday, and that I've felt the same way too, and even though the pain doesn't go away it does get better. There are a lot of things I want to do. But I end up doing none of them.

Instead I end up kissing him. I lean forwards and kiss him, and for a second I begin to panic, my mind literally screaming at me to back off. But then he's kissing me back, and hell, I realize it's all I've really wanted in the first place, his lips on mine, his body pressed close… and after those first few seconds of awkwardness our kiss deepens as his hand slips round my waist and the other twines into my hair.

Wow. This guy sure is some kisser. I forget the idea I'd ever wanted to slap him, to insult him, to make him suffer. He kisses it all away with those expert lips of his and I feel my knees begin to buckle under the passion of our embrace. He preempts me, slides his hands down over my butt, keeping me upright. Then he raises me lightly so that I'm sitting on the edge of his desk. He breaks away, smiles, and I find myself suddenly eye-level with him as I try to catch my breath. I'm confused. I hate him, don't I? And yet how can I deny to myself that I've found him irresistibly sexy since day one?

While I'm busy trying to analyze my feelings, his hand is busy sneaking its way up under my skirt, and I gasp as he finds the flesh above my stocking top and caresses me lightly. His eyes are still looking into mine, challenging me to say no to him, and I want to so much, I want to show him Anna Raven never gives in without a fight, but the lust in his eyes mirrors my own and before I know it I'm kissing him again as if I couldn't get enough of him, my legs winding round his waist, drawing him in closer.

Shit, Roguey, this is wrong, you know it's wrong, get out of here right now!

I can't. He pauses, murmuring my name against my lips before kissing me again. I feel his fingers working at the top button of my shirt, and I want it, I can't remember the last time I felt such passion, and I need it too much, it's what I've been looking for, it's what I've been missing every night since that terrible day four years ago… …

Ring, ring!

Behind me the phone rings shrilly, cutting through our passionate embrace like a jolt of electricity, drawing us apart like lightning. Remy glances at the phone, licks his lips impatiently, then back at me. I avoid his gaze, breathing hard, still feeling the taste of his kisses in my mouth. When I don't look at him, he picks up the phone and snaps: "What?"

My cheeks are burning, both with embarrassment and desire. I look down at myself and find my skirt's ridden halfway up my thighs. I hurriedly rearrange it as Remy speaks agitatedly into the phone.

"Lila, can't dis wait?" he exclaims. "I'm kinda busy right now."

He shoots me a glance, but I still avoid his look. My mind is slowly coming back to me. Rogue, you're a great big bumblin' idiot!

"Yes – I'm busy," he continues. "Yes – very important. Oui – even more important den dat. No, it's not Ororo Munroe. No, it's not de First Lady. Whaddya mean she's de most important woman I ain't had yet!"

I look back over my shoulder, my eyes falling on the creamy paper of the wedding invitation. It suddenly becomes clear to me. Remy LeBeau doesn't want me – I'm his little distraction, the balm for his wounded pride. He's been rejected, so he pounces on the first woman he comes across – me. And lonely little Rogue – who's so desperately been searching for love like the pathetic loser she is – fell straight into his trap. For the first time since this whole crazy thing began, tears begin to smart my eyes. Remy had taken advantage of me, just like he had every other gal. I slide off the desk.

"Ah've got t' go," I mumble.

"What?" Remy says, both to the phone and to me. "Waitaminnit…"

"Ah really haveta go," I repeat, as he takes step towards me and gives a beseeching look while Lila rants down the phone at him. "Ah haveta go home and, uh, feed mah fish."

I back off from him, realizing the top half of my black bra is peeking through my open blouse. Blushing, I hastily do up the buttons and begin walking towards the door.

"Lila," Remy garbles into the receiver behind me, "can you hang on a sec? Dere's somethin' I haveta do back here…" I hear him drop the handset on the table and the next moment his hand is about my wrist, pulling me back. I turn reluctantly to face him, not knowing why I still feel so drawn to him. It's all I can do to keep the distance between us and stop myself from going back into his arms.

"Rogue," he says, almost desperately, "Anna… Wait a minute. We can talk…"

There's a pause, a silence that seems to last minutes. Talk? What's there to talk about? I know the truth already. I don't mean jack-shit to him. I'm only rebound material, second-hand goods, a one-minute wonder.

"Ah haveta go," I echo softly, resolutely, twisting my wrist from his grasp. On the desk, Lila's voice is still prattling away. He looks back at the phone.

I take that split second of opportunity to make my escape.

-oOo-

To be continued...