Disclaimer: Marvel's characters. Boo hoo.

A/N: For those wondering - Rogue's secret from the past should be revealed next chapter...:rubs hands:

Mix 'n' Match

(13) Road to Reconciliation

"Top of this week's gossip column: - there are rumors that Ororo Munroe is currently dating one of L&L's marketing executives, Remy LeBeau, a man who is believed to be one of New York's most eligible bachelors!"

Betsy peers at me over the top of the latest issue of Cosmopolitan, her eyes wide. "Rogue, is this true!"

I snort with irritation as I wiggle the sheath dress over my hips and smooth it into place.

"Betsy, do Ah look like Ah know everythin' that goes on in Remy LeBeau's life? Ah hardly speak to the man!"

"Well, he is your boss," she persists petulantly.

"Does that mean Ah automatically have the inside knowledge on his private life? He could be hooked up with any number of women for all Ah know!" I blow a curl out of my face peevishly, not wanting to talk about my wayward Cajun admirer if anyone paid me. "Well, whaddya think?"

Betsy puts down the magazine and peruses me for a moment.

"No. Blue just isn't your color, darling."

"Then what do you think? C'mon Betts, give me a hand here. That's why you're here after all."

"Well," she gets up and starts browsing briskly through my wardrobe. "How about this one?" She holds out an elegant gold gown I haven't seen in years, let alone worn. "It'll set off those highlights in your hair perfectly."

"Hmm." I give it a doubtful look. "Ah dunno, Betts, it's just too overkill. Mr. Beaubier said it was only a small private bash, something to make the investors feel good about the project so far. Ah don't wanna look like Ah'm goin' t' the Oscars or somethin'…"

"Then how about this?" Betsy suggests, whisking out a satin, jade-green strapless sheath dress. "Not too showy, not too risqué but clingy in all the right areas… And it compliments your be-yoo-ti-ful eyes. Just right for snaring Remy and getting him out of Ororo's clutches."

"What!" I almost yell in surprise. "Yah think Ah care what he thinks!"

"Of course you do, luv," Betts winks. "Don't pretend you don't! You want him to look at you and think you're the sexiest creature alive, that he's never even seen a woman before he lays eyes on you – right?"

I try to give her a skeptical look but end up smiling wickedly instead.

"Betsy, sometimes y'all are just too much!"

"Well, you wanted my opinion and I'm here to give it! And I'm not having him with that Ororo Munroe when he could be with you!"

"Betsy, Ah already told you…" I begin, slipping off the blue dress and stepping into the green.

"I know. He's not the guy for you. But what's to stop you from looking good? And, dare I say it, flirting with him a little? You might just be his match."

"Ah s'ppose," I murmur. I have to admit seeing Remy on his knees and slavering at the sight of me sounds rather appealing. Besides, where's the harm in a bit of flirting? Now that I'm decided where I stand with him, it can't get out of hand. Can it?

Betsy zips up the dress for me and I give a small twirl in the mirror. The cut of the dress is classy but sexy, a silky sheath that clings to my breasts and hips for maximum devastating effect. I look good. In fact, I look more than just good, and I know it. A small smile crosses my lips. The past 24 hours or so I'd been sweating over this whole party thing. I hadn't even been invited in the first place, but Jean-Paul had insisted I make an appearance, since the board members had been so impressed with my presentation the other week. I was flattered by the suggestion, but it hadn't stopped me from scaring myself into believing I'd make a fool of myself yet again. The thought that Remy would be there had made things even worse. But if you can beat him at his own game, it might actually make the whole night worth it, Roguey, I think to myself.

I look over at Betsy and she looks back at me. With that one look we both agree I've found the perfect dress.

"He's going to want to eat you alive," Betsy grins conspiratorially. "You're not going to be able to keep him off you."

"Not the effect Ah was goin' for, Ah'll admit," I reply, giving another twirl. "But right now… Ah don't think Ah really care."

-oOo-

Having left Rogue's apartment, Betsy had decided to spend some time in town, at first trawling through various designer boutiques, but then feeling cross with herself and deciding she really needed to look for a job. The truth was, she was feeling guilty and stupid, and here she was, tying herself down to her mother by accepting money from her when obviously she should be earning money herself.

She checked out the job sections of the newspapers with only fleeting interest. What she needed was something that matched both her lifestyle and her talents. She knew for a fact her modeling agency would've whipped her back up in a second – they'd been sorry to see one of their star employees leave so abruptly. But then, they would've asked her to wear furs and skins and other such hideous articles, and how could she reconcile that?

But those weren't the only things worrying Betsy. The foremost thing on her mind was Warren, and the terrible things Emma had said about him the night before. A part of her just couldn't believe it was true. Warren had seemed like such a nice, genuine guy. But then, many guys seemed nice when actually they were fake charmers who were out for all they could get.

Still, that wasn't the impression she'd got of Warren at all…

Betsy shook her head sadly as she got into her SmartCar and headed back for home. Emma knew him better than she did – it didn't cross her mind that she should do anything but trust Emma's judgement. And if Warren really was a conniving bastard who'd gone out of his way to hurt one of her best friends, then she didn't want anything more to do with him.

So why oh why was she feeling so upset about losing a man who was so obviously a pig? Was it because, for the first time in ages, she not only felt that she'd found a man who not only valued her, but made her feel passionate as well? Betsy frowned. It was definitely not worth thinking about!

Just as she'd parked her car outside her apartment, her cell phone rang. Having allowed her mind to wander, she didn't even bother checking the caller before she answered it.

"Hello?" she asked absently.

"Betsy, hi! It's Warren!"

At the sound of his voice her heart immediately plummeted way down into her boots. What was she going to say to him?

"Oh, uh, Warren!" she cried, feigning enthusiasm. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you!"

"Well, of course you weren't," he replied jovially. "I just wanted to surprise you. In fact, I was calling about our date this Saturday. I had a venue in mind and I just wanted to make sure that you were still up for it."

Betsy hesitated, suddenly panicking. In her befuddled state of mind, she'd completely forgotten about the date they'd arranged. In the circumstances, the only thing she could do was babble.

"Oh! The date! Oh dear, I'd completely forgotten about it!" Quick Betsy, make up a lie, ANYTHING, just get out of this mess as quickly as you can! "Oh Warren, I feel so bad, but… I actually went and made a date with one of my friends instead and…"

This wasn't the way she'd wanted it to turn out. Even if he was everything Emma had made him out to be, she just hated being on bad terms with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and she knew that what she was saying now was going to hurt him. And she felt awful for hurting him in that way. But then, if he was so terrible himself, why should it bother her at all?

There was a short silence as Betsy trailed off, not knowing what to say. She winced, feeling rotten to the core. After a moment, he finally said: "oh. I see." His tone was a mixture of hurt and confusion that quite distressed her. He was so looking forward to it, I can tell, and so was I… but what if he was looking forward to it for all the wrong reasons?

"I'm really sorry, Warren," she said quickly, hoping he'd be angry, hang up on her and go. Anything to get him to prove to her what a bastard he really was!

"It's alright, Betsy," he finally replied, and she was dismayed to still hear the wounded note to his voice. "Maybe some other time. Shall I call you back?"

"No, no…that won't be necessary. I'll call you back, okay?"

"Okay." He was killing her with that injured voice of his! She shut her eyes and prayed for him to hang up. "Bye Betts."

"Bye Warren," she blurted, and ended the call when he didn't, switching off her phone for good measure, knowing she had no intention of phoning him back. It made her feel guilty, but, she thought as she raced back up to her apartment, she was better off without him. She needed him just about as much as she needed Neal guilt-tripping her all the time!

She stabbed her key into the lock and swung the door open, only to be assailed by the strange and pungent odor of…what was that? Roses? Confused, Betsy slipped off her coat, flipped on the light switch and glanced about. To her amazement she found that her lounge had been completely covered, head to toe, with bouquets and wreaths of red and white roses. She sucked in a gasp and dropped her coat and keys onto the floor.

It's Warren, he isn't a bastard after all, Emma got the wrong end of the stick and he's proving her wrong…

A small bunch of the blooms was lying on a nearby table and Betsy snatched it up, her heart beating painfully, wildly in her chest as she spied the tiny greeting card attached to the gaudy wrapping. What an idiot I've been! I just lied and practically told him to go away and now this! He must think me the most ungrateful creature on the planet!

She unfolded the card and read it. Once, twice, three times. And what she read dismayed her.

Because it wasn't Warren at all.

It was Neal.

"Dearest Betsy," she murmured to herself as she read it a fourth time, "sorry for not contacting you while you were away, but I wanted this to be a surprise. Call me asap. Neal x."

Betsy laid down the card and the bouquet with a sinking feeling in her heart. All of sudden the flamboyant and romantic gesture with the flowers seemed cheap and distasteful. So Neal hadn't wanted it to be over between them at all. He'd let her stew, he'd let her sweat, and then he'd decided to make it up with her under his own terms. First confusion, then anger filled her. What makes him think I want him anyhow!

Betsy tore off the card and ripped it into little bits before sinking into a nearby chair, her mind in a whirl. She thought of Warren, his cheerful, passionate countenance and how, if circumstances were different, she'd be finding comfort with him right now. And yet here she was, empty and alone.

She had Neal, and she didn't want him.

The sad fact was, she couldn't have Warren either.

-xXx-

Emma's body cleaved effortlessly through the warm water of her indoor swimming pool as she took the opportunity to relax and escape from any further introspection. After one length of the pool she surfaced, shaking her blonde locks and spraying water droplets about her. Her mind was still strangely occupied, and she didn't like it one little bit. Not least that her thoughts were constantly wandering over to Bobby Drake…

For some unbeknownst reason, the way he had looked at her after the catastrophe with Carlos reminded her just how pathetic and hollow her life really was. In fact, Emma knew it was the warmth and comfort that Bobby had provided her that finally caused to her to admit that the solitude that she thought she wanted was no more than a defense mechanism. Her entire life, she had never depended on anyone but herself, and that was the only real truth she ever knew. It wasn't so much that she was against love either, she just knew that love never lasted. She saw the pain her mother endured because of the countless affairs her father had. She saw how messed up Rogue was after that ordeal a few years ago. She saw the ridiculous changes people went through because of love, the number one example being Betsy. She'd never wanted it and she was fine with being alone and the emptiness she felt in her heart… that was until he had comforted her, despite the fact that she had messed up incredibly.

Emma did one last lap before heaving herself out of the pool and going for her towel. Tossing her golden hair over her shoulders, she tilted her head to towel it dry. That's when she noticed him. Bobby, his head poking round the door, looking to see if she was inside. Emma froze instantly, thinking maybe she'd have enough precious seconds to hide somewhere, anywhere. It wasn't that she particularly minded a male seeing her half-naked, but this was Bobby.

Yes, only Bobby, for God's sake. What's the matter with me?

It was too late anyway. He'd already caught her eyes and seeing her in nothing but a skimpy white string bikini was enough to make him blush from what she suspected was the tip of his toes to the roots of his hair.

"Emma! Oh, shit…I'm sorry…I didn't know!" He first began to cover his eyes, then retreat through the door again. Emma stared at him, half amused, half annoyed.

"For Christ's sake, Bobby, what the hell are you doing here! You don't work today!"

His eyes wandered anywhere but her, as he battled with the need to explain himself or run away as soon as possible. "Yeah, I know. But… well, you're probably gonna think this is really stupid but I saw these on the way home and they just seemed… well, and I thought you might like them and maybe they'd cheer you up a little… well, here." He gave up stammering, stepped fully inside the room, and brought a bouquet of orchids out from behind his back, before awkwardly offering it to her.

Completely stunned by his gesture, Emma could only manage an, "oh."

"Yeah, I know it was stupid. I'm sorry I intruded on you. You look like you're probably busy anyway…" He gaped as he saw that the bikini barely covered her body and quickly averted his eyes. "Uhhh…I'll just let myself out. See you Friday, Ms. Frost," he added rapidly, turning away and preparing to run for the door before he suffered any more humiliation.

"Wait… Bobby?" Emma called out.

He turned, his cheeks burning red as he attempted vainly not to stare at her breasts. "Yes?"

"These are gorgeous," she said slowly, before looking up at him and smiling. "Thank you."

A grin began to stretch from ear to ear across his sweet face as he said, "you're welcome. I just, y'know… wanted to cheer you up."

"Yeah, well… you have," she murmured, pausing as she felt the awkwardness of the admission; not to mention the fact that he was standing there in front of her, obviously sweating because he didn't want to offend her by staring at her chest. "So," she hurried on to ask rapidly, "a lot of studying to do tonight?"

"Actually, for once, no," he answered.

"I see…" Emma set aside the bouquet slowly, wondering what to say next. "Well, maybe we could…" she began, but couldn't find herself to complete the question. It wasn't helping that she could feel her cheeks burning either.

"Hang out?" Bobby finished for her hopefully.

"Yeah," she said and glanced away, a sudden and unusual shyness overcoming her as she finally took the plunge. Maybe he'll say no anyway, and then what a laugh you'll be, Emma…

"I'd love to hang out," he replied as nonchalantly as he could, careful not to sound too eager or desperate. Emma couldn't help smiling in sudden relief.

"Great." She looked down at herself and realized she was still dripping with water. "If you could just wait for me in the house? I need to get ready."

"Sure," he nodded, grinning, looking glad to be finally out of the awkward situation. As he turned and began to walk away, Emma couldn't help but call out to him: "You know, Bobby, next time… If you want to look at my breasts, I don't have a problem with that. Go ahead and look."

"Thanks!" he called back absently over his shoulder, before turning and yelling: "Hey! I was not thinking that!"

"Like hell you weren't," she chuckled.

"Well I wasn't!" he insisted. "Not that I wouldn't…If you wanted me to, that is," he added as an afterthought, blabbering inanely now that she'd caught him off his guard. "I mean, you're gorgeous and a guy would be crazy not to…you know…Aw, shit…"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Well, seeing as I've given you permission, it shouldn't be an issue then, should it," she replied smoothly, bending over to dry her feet and purposely giving him a view of her pert backside as she did so. By now, he must've been sweating buckets full.

"Well, uh…My eyes are kinda working overtime right now as it is, thanks a lot," he returned rather cheekily, or so she thought. She peered at him humorously and he blushed. "I'll just…go wait for you in the house now," he finished quickly, and the next moment, he'd raced out.

Emma stood and watched him go with a thoughtful look on her face. Picking up the orchids, she took a whiff and smiled. Suddenly, she didn't feel so alone.

-oOo-

I arrive at the L&L's party a little over what would be considered fashionably late. I stand outside the door of the function room and brush down the clingy green dress nervously, patting my hair to make sure it isn't falling out of the graceful knot of curls at the back of my head. Several looks in the mirror before I'd left my apartment – plus the way the cab driver had been gawking at me all the way up here – had assured me I looked suitably alluring. I was rearing and ready to go. I was going to take this bull by its horns.

I exhale a sharp breath and step into the room, taking a cursory glance around and assessing the people gathered about. Monet swans by in a flamboyant, mahogany velvet dress, passing me an obnoxious scowl. I pull a face back at her but she's already breezed past so I ignore her. Jean-Paul and Petey are talking to some of the investors, and Robert Kelly's sulking in the corner, obviously put out that he's no longer the star of the show. And then there's Remy at the opposite end of the room, deep in conversation with Ororo Munroe, who's looking sophisticated and elegant in white chiffon. I stare at them, a frown on my face as I watch him trail his fingers intimately up and down her arm. Could it be that Betsy's magazine article was right about them?

I stand there, trying to work out why exactly I'm still so hung up on him when he looks over Ororo's shoulder and our gazes involuntarily meet. He stands there and gapes, his eyes literally popping out of his head. I decide to act coy and innocently avert my gaze, a little smile of triumph tugging at my lips. When I allow my eyes to wander over in his direction again, I find he's still looking at me, his gaze so intense it's threatening to burn me up.

I've communicated enough to him, so I sashay into the room before I can transmit anything more meaningful. He's had his eyeful. Now let him work out how he's going to get more!

I find myself drawing a wave of male attention as I cross the room to join Jean-Paul and his small group. Men literally part ways for me as I pass, and I can't help but revel in it all. I can't remember the last time I've felt so sexy and desired in all my life. I have to admit that it does wonders for my confidence. I smile like a cat that's got the cream, subconsciously adding a seductive sway into my step. They're holding their breath for me and I can feel it in the air. They want me! And I know he wants me too, more than all of them put together.

Yup, Roguey, yah sure could get used to this!

I spend the next few minutes chatting to some of the investors, who eagerly flock round me like moths to the proverbial flame. It doesn't take me long to discover the primary drawback of my little ploy – they're more interested in staring at my breasts than in listening to anything I have to say about the project. Ten minutes in and I start to wish I hadn't worn the dress after all.

I escape to the punch bowl and surreptitiously attempt to tug the neckline of the dress a little higher over my breasts. Only the darn thing won't budge. Dammit! Looks like I'm cursed with these show-stealing monstrosities for the rest of the evening! I might as well be wearing a target board!

I'm already trying desperately to bang it into my head. Rule 7: Private business bashes and cleavages you can ski down do not go together.

I'm so distressed at my predicament that I don't even notice that indomitable Cajun steal up beside me.

"Nice dress," he half-whispers in my ear. In my surprise I nearly slosh the contents of my glass all over me, but somehow manage to be calm and dignified enough to make a straight answer.

"Nice suit," I reply as stiffly as I can. It's not a lie. If anything it's an understatement. He's in the latest Giorgio Armani and looking very delicious indeed. Only he doesn't have these infuriating appendages stuck on his chest screaming 'Hello boys!' to all and sundry in a one-mile radius! Damn him for going one better than me!

"Did you wear it for me?" he asks in a sensuous murmur. "Only I assure you…it's havin' the desired effect."

I blush when I think how near to the mark his assumption really is.

"If yah think Ah wanted you oglin' mah breasts like the rest of the losers here, y'all are mistaken," I huff. I can't bear to look at him, and as my eyes wander I catch Monet scowling at us jealously from the sidelines. Y'all are welcome to the slimeball, Miss High-an'-Mighty…

Remy's completely unaware of the little by-play. He leans in a little closer and for once his expression is deadly serious as our gazes lock once more. It's only then that I realize it. He hasn't been lookin' at my breasts at all… he's been lookin' at my eyes…

"Au contraire, chere," he finally drawls. "While your other charms are equally fascinatin' – and I tell you true, they are – I was actually referrin' to how your choice of dress brings out de color of your eyes."

My knees start to buckle. I can literally feel them. Darn it, he knows exactly what to say and how to say it…! Get out Roguey b'fore yah jump his bones in front of the entire party!

I mumble a halfhearted thanks and make my escape.

Only to crash into Monet as she crosses the room towards us.

It only takes a split second before I realize the entire contents of her wineglass have splashed onto the skirt of my dress. It's every gal's worst nightmare. I let out an automatic shriek of utter horror. In the space of another half-second the whole room is audience to my humiliation. Everyone stops and stares. The women gasp and some begin to titter. That's what comes from making enemies through sexual jealousy. And it's all because I was trying to impress him. Remy LeBeau. What was I thinking!

Monet is calm – too calm, calm enough to broadcast to me that she'd done it all on purpose – as if the small smirk on her face wasn't enough of a giveaway.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" she gasps theatrically, making me hate her all the more. "I didn't see you coming! How clumsy of me!"

By now my cheeks are so hot you could've probably fried eggs on them. I don't waste another moment trying to tackle her. I run to the bathroom before I can open my mouth and make an even bigger fool of myself.

-xXx-

Jean-Paul Beaubier had just come out of the little boy's room to find his star guest had disappeared, and was now pacing over to the refreshment's table with a harassed look on his face.

"Remy," he demanded peremptorily of the wily Cajun, who was calmly sipping at his wine whilst wondering which girl to advance on next, "where's Anna? Did she go home? Why did she go home? Wasn't there enough to occupy her? Is it so boring? Shall I draw this whole thing to a close?"

Monet sidled up behind him, a self-satisfied smile on her cherry-red lips. "Calm down, Jean-Paul. Everything's fine. Anna just had a little accident with a drink, that's all. She's in the bathroom right now."

"What! But I need her out here! I was going to introduce her to a very important sponsor!" he burst out irately.

"Relax, JP," Remy replied, winking at a scantily clad blonde in red walking past. "If I know anyt'ing 'bout Ms. Raven, she'll be fine."

"Pity you don't know as much as you'd like," Monet threw in pointedly. He smiled, shrugged.

"No, no, this won't do!" Jean-Paul threw up his hands floridly. "I need her here now! No one can explain this thing about flowers and Nature and organic thingamabobs as well as she does! Remy, go and get her for me! Now!"

Remy only looked half-surprised. "You want me to go into de ladies room?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Monet jibed, pressing her tongue behind her teeth and giving him a look.

"She won't listen to anyone but you," Jean-Paul reasoned. Remy raised an eyebrow.

"And you figured dis out how?"

"Don't be an idiot! She hates you! If she's holed up in the bathroom, the very sight of you will get her running. Having failed that," he added, "charm her. It always seems to work with everyone else. Now just do it! Go, go, go!"

Remy sighed dramatically and placed his glass on the table.

"JP, I t'ink you're wrong," he stated, nevertheless walking in the direction of the bathrooms. "I t'ink de last person she wants to talk to is me." He turned away and added under his breath, "Ain't gonna stop me from tryin' though."

-oOo-

It just won't come out. Of course, no amount of soap and water will get a red wine stain out of silk, any idiot knows this. But I'm so angry, so desperate and shamed that nothing can stop me from trying. I've already been laboring away for a good five minutes, holding back hot tears, before I hear the bathroom door swing open behind me.

I swirl round, thinking it's Monet coming to bitch over me. I don't mind that. I'm spoiling for a fight, if only to let off some steam. But it's Remy whose body is framed by the doorway. I pause, momentarily taken aback, before turning round and resuming my attack on the offending stain once more. Don't say anythin', don't say anythin', don't say anythin'…

I hear him close the door and take a step inside.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I reply after a slight, belligerent pause. Why the hell is he here…?

I continue my scrubbing, my eyes and cheeks burning with anger and humiliation. I can only think he's come to watch me suffer and I want to hate him for it but I can't.

"Look, Anna," he speaks up from behind me, "I'm sorry about de dress…If dere's anyt'ing I can…"

"Why are yah really here?" I snap at him. "This is the ladies room, in case yah hadn't noticed."

"Well now, dis happens to be one of my favorite rooms of de house," he replies, the easy, seductive lilt edging back into his voice.

"Yeah, Ah guess it wouldn't be the first time yah came in here, uninvited or otherwise," I mutter sarcastically. "Didn't yah get the message, Cajun? Ah don't want t' speak to yah! Now leave me alone!"

"Actually, chere," he replies, not skipping a beat, "I was thinkin' maybe we could take de opportunity to kiss an' make up about dat little misunderstanding de other day…"

I pause, frowning in disbelief. The nerve of this guy!

"Ah think kissing's firmly off the agenda, don't you?" I reply indignantly.

"Shame," he drawls huskily. "'Cos y'know somethin' chere… You're one great kisser."

That does it!

"If all yah want is another romp on the desk, yah've got the wrong gal, swamp snake!" I explode at him. "So why don't yah go and laugh at me with all the other toffee-nosed prigs out there!" I finish, my voice unintentionally wavering as I say it. I try to hide just how upset I am. It's too late. He's already noticed. He walks over beside me, willing me to face him with those hypnotic eyes. I continue to ignore him as best I can.

"Anna," he finally speaks, "no one's laughin' at you, chere. What happened was just an accident. Everyone's been sayin' how impressed they've been wit' you. Don't take things so hard."

"Like hell it was an accident," I mutter viciously. "Monet's had it in for me since day one. She did it on purpose and now Ah've got t' go back out there lookin' like a fool. And as for them bein' impressed with me – Ah think the only things impressing people t'night are my famous 'assets'." I slap the towel down on the sink, knowing Ah'll never be able to get the stain out. "Ah've really let Mr. Beaubier down, haven't Ah?" I add in a low voice.

Before I know it he's laid a warm, soothing hand on my shoulder, and I let him, needing the comfort, the reassurance.

"Anna, you haven't let anyone down. Why d'you think Jean-Paul asked you to come tonight? 'Cos you got talent and you've got presence, and you never back down when you're in a tight corner. You go back out dere, you'll knock 'em dead like you always do."

"Yah think?" I ask in a small voice. He squeezes my shoulder.

"I know. B'sides," he grins amiably, looking down at the stain on my dress, "it's dried kinda nicely. De stain, I mean. Makes you look…" he shrugs, tongue-tied for once, "…avant-garde?"

I give a watery smile, knowing he's trying to raise my spirits. I'm grateful for it, but to hear him being so kind is confusing the hell out of me because it's making me feel everything I don't want to feel when I'm with him…

"Ah look hideous," I mumble miserably.

"You look beautiful," he corrects me. There's an edge to his voice, one that makes my breath catch in my throat, and he looks at me and I look at him, and suddenly I just want to give in, I want to step into the warmth of his body and raise my lips to his and kiss him so bad… He leans forward just an inch in anticipation of what we both know we want, but I quickly place a hand on his chest, trying desperately to keep the space between us.

"Ah did say no kissin'," I remind him pointedly. Nevertheless my breath is quick and light, my voice thick with sudden desire, giving me away. He just has t' look at me and he's already workin' his way under mah skin…

He smiles, the corner of his lips forming that familiar crinkle and for once he listens, even if he doesn't back off, even if he stands there motionless with my hand on his chest, the warmth of his closeness challenging me not to let him close the gap between us, not to let him kiss me once more. His hand leaves my shoulder as his fingers tug lightly at a loose curl of white hair that's slipped free of my chignon.

"Den how 'bout de makin' up part?" he asks me softly, so softly that even his words seem to caress me and I shiver pleasurably at the sensation. "Only dis ignorin' me… It ain't really good for our workin' relationship, don't you agree?"

"Our 'working relationship' is the last thing on your mind right now," I answer in a murmur, feeling the quickening of his heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt, knowing how intimate the contact is but somehow unable to move my hand away. He's so warm…

"I take what I can get," he replies honestly, the smile on his face straightening so that his eyes are intent and serious upon mine. "Especially from a femme like you. You tell me what you want from me, you got it, chere. You want us to be friends, we be friends. You want somet'ing more…"

He trails off meaningfully and I meet his gaze with smoldering eyes, I just can't help myself…

"So y'all are givin' me a choice? Ah must say Ah'm flattered…"

"Tell me what you want, Rogue," he interrupts, ignoring my banter. For the first time he's used my pet name to my face, and for some reason him breaking that boundary doesn't feel bad, it feels right… I bite my lip in sudden, burning indecision, because I know if I don't bite my lip I wouldn't even be wasting time telling him what I want, I'd be kissing him and kissing all my doubt away with it…

"Ah want –" I begin, but don't get to finish since fate decides that Tabitha Smith suddenly pokes her head round the door. We don't even have time to break apart, but she doesn't even bat an eyelid when she sees me with Remy. I guess she's used to finding him in compromising positions.

"Anna, JP's going off on one out here," she warns me. "He's asking for you."

My hand slides away from his chest, his warmth, slowly, reluctantly. "Ah'll be out in a second," I say.

"You sure you're up to it?" Tabby asks. "Only I can make excuses for you if you want."

"Thanks Tabs, but Ah'm fine. Just give me a sec, okay?"

She gives me a thumbs-up before leaving us alone again. I turn away from him and give myself the once over in the mirror. I look far from perfect but it'll have to do.

"You're right, Cajun," I sigh. "Looks like this Mississippi river rat's gonna have to go play her part and put on a brave face yet again." I pass him a coy look over my shoulder. "How do Ah look?"

His gaze longingly sears across the curve of my butt before meeting my eyes again.

"You know I'd t'ink you looked sexy even if you were in dungarees and a lumberjack shirt, chere," he returns enticingly, his breath tickling against my ear. "Or even in just de shirt. Or even in nothin' at all."

I turn, pouting playfully.

"Ever wonder why Ah keep pushin' you away, swamp rat?"

"Ever wonder why I keep comin' back for more?" He steps in close, a breath away from a kiss once more. "Keep on hopin' maybe you'll figure out you like me after all…"

I press a hand against his chest again, but my touch is gentle, almost caressing as I feel the hardness of his body, and I gulp down the urge to rip that shirt right off him and… "Yah think likin' you is all it's gonna take?" I murmur thickly, my hand falling to my side once more. "Then you've got a lotta hopin' to do, sugah. 'Cos likin' someone is just a little less than what Ah'm lookin' for."

I swing away from him and walk to the door, leaving him to stew over my words. I place my hand on the door handle and he stops me, saying: "Then I'll be hopin', Anna, real hard. For de both of us."

I smile to myself before pressing down on the handle, and after a split second of indecision I finally find the courage to close the door behind me.

-xXx-

To be continued...