Disclaimer: The characters belong to Marvel and not to us...
A/N: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO US! Thanks angelathene for reminding us, otherwise we never would've remembered that it's been just over a year since we first started writing this story. Sigh, it only feels like yesterday --wipes away tears--. We'd like to do the round of thanks to all of you who've read, reveiwed, faved and supported this fic in any way - you are what keeps us writing and keeps this story alive! We hope you continue to read the story and that we don't disappoint. And stay tuned for the next chapter, when we promise some explosive revelations! Ciao!
- Ludi and angyxoxo
PS: - to A.M.bookworm247- thanks for the super comment! Your assessment of the characters were so spot on we were chuckling to ourselves all the way through! Great stuff, girl:D
-xOx-
Mix 'n' Match
(19) Chasing the Sun
The next day was an unusually bright and sunny Tuesday – not least because Christmas was fast approaching. That afternoon Emma was supposed to be out eating lunch with Sebastian Shaw, but instead she was in Rogue's apartment – not that she had any real reason to be complaining, since her date with Shaw last Saturday evening had been a disaster.
It wasn't that she didn't like him. In fact they got along well as casual business acquaintances; it was just that anything more between them was doomed to catastrophic failure. For one thing he was a good twenty years older than Emma and Emma did prefer her toy-boys. For another he was so much like her that instead of flirting over dinner they'd ended up talking about rate hikes and corporate takeovers. Which was all well and good, but it didn't make her feel any better about the situation in hand, namely getting Bobby Drake off her mind for good. Consequently she'd spent half the meal with her mind firmly elsewhere.
Shaw was a thick-skinned old devil though, and hadn't noticed Emma's mind wandering at all. In fact, he'd enjoyed their night of evil scheming so much that he'd suggested they have lunch together the following Tuesday. And like a fool, she'd accepted.
Conveniently however, Rogue had finally phoned the plumber to come round and had asked Emma to sort everything out for her. At the time Emma had grumbled and moaned about it, but now she couldn't be more thankful for the opportunity to avoid having lunch with the male mirror-image of herself. So she'd driven to Rogue's apartment, let herself in, and waited for the plumber to appear.
In the meantime she pottered round Rogue's place, sighing at the dirty dishes still left in the sink, the magazines sprawled all over the coffee table, and the unwashed clothes still piled on the bed. She knew her friend had been going through a tough time recently, but this mess really was ridiculous. Then again, Emma did have a housemaid to clean all her stuff, but she really couldn't stand anything being in disorder.
Emma rearranged a few of the romances on the bookshelf and sighed irritably to herself. Where was that godforsaken plumber? It seemed like everyone she met these days was either unreliable or incompetent. It really was most annoying.
Just as she was about to phone the plumbing company and give them a piece of her mind, a knock came at the door.
"It's about time," she muttered to herself and went to open the door. She was very much surprised to find that the man in the doorframe wasn't the plumber at all. He didn't have his toolbox for one thing. He was dressed in a very nice Armani suit and shades for another.
"Can I help you?" Emma asked in her usual frosty tone. Nevertheless she purposely took a bit of the edge out of her voice because a) he looked somewhat respectable and b) he was drop-dead gorgeous. Rogue, what exactly have you not been telling me, she thought to herself as she looked this perfect specimen of manhood up and down thoroughly.
"I'm lookin' for Anna," came the reply, complete with prerequisite sexy accent. Emma was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. "Anna Raven. Is she in?"
"And you are…?" Emma asked, looking him over again. He returned the favor, just for a moment, no doubt appreciating the white bustier she'd chosen to wear today – not to mention the two appendages it was supposedly supporting but was vainly attempting to contain instead.
"Remy. Remy LeBeau," he introduced himself, leaning against the doorframe casually, a slight smile playing across his lips as he gazed at her bosom. "I'm Ms. Raven's boss."
Emma sensed a man whose usual tactics would be an attempted seduction, but he seemed far too distracted to do so, much as he appeared to appreciate the generous vision of femininity before him.
"Ahhhh," she couldn't help but voice. So this was the infamous Remy LeBeau Rogue was constantly gabbing on about. Emma had to admit, he certainly was delicious – and she had a very big sweet tooth when it came to men. But she did have morals and she had sense enough to know that if Rogue really liked him – which she suspected she did – then he was well off the menu. "Sorry, Mr. LeBeau," she said, "but I'm afraid Anna's out-of-state. Is there a message I can pass on for you…?"
She saw his face fall and decided he wasn't used to having such a hard time with women. Way to go, Roguey, she thought wickedly to herself, suppressing a chuckle. He's totally into you, and you're making him suffer! Now there's a girl after my own heart!
"No," he replied at last, "no message. I was jus' wonderin' if you had a phone number… or an address… or any way I can contact her?"
Jesus, he really was into her. Just wait until Emma told Betsy and Jean all this!
"Sorry, she didn't leave anything…"
"Den you know how long she'll be gone?"
"She said maybe a week…"
"A week?" If he looked anything, it was distressed. He ran a hand through his hair, continued: "Listen, Ms. Uh…"
"Ms. Frost," she offered. "Emma Frost."
"Emma… a pleasure t' meet you, by de way… Is dere any chance y' could tell me where she is? Only I really need t' talk to her and it's kind of urgent and…"
Emma almost felt sorry for him, and that was not in her nature. Damn – he was really, really into Rogue!
"Look," she interrupted, finally taking pity on him. "She said something about going back down to Mississippi. But if you want my advice, you'll leave her well alone."
He looked deflated at her words and she was moved to reassure him.
"Listen. She likes you, loverboy. But wherever she is right now, she's upset, and I suggest you wait for her to get back to NY before you tell her this 'something' that's so urgent it's got your boxers in a twist." She paused and he gave her a look, an odd mixture of innate charm and puppy-dog sadness. But you're not going to listen to my advice, are you, she thought, and gave a theatrical sigh. "She's gone back home to Caldecott County," she finally confessed, not knowing why she'd caved into him so easily. He grinned, and before she could protest he'd taken her hand and kissed it.
"Ms. Frost, dis Cajun is eternally indebted to you."
"I wouldn't owe me anything if I were you," she warned him half humorously, looking him over again and thinking what a shame it was he was taken. "Not unless you have a masochistic streak and a penchant for certain types of bondage."
He raised an eyebrow. "Only wit' de right kinda woman," he replied with a sexy little grin.
"And I sense that woman isn't me," she sighed dramatically once again. "Now get going and stop wasting my time!"
"I hope you taught Anna a few t'ings in de bondage department," he added cheekily, and before she could think of a suitable reply he'd gone.
Emma slammed the door shut and frowned to herself. This latest encounter had made an amusing diversion – at least it had proved to her that, miserable as Rogue was at the moment, perhaps happiness was just round the corner for her. And Emma felt jealous. Yes, she actually felt jealous of Rogue! Neither Rogue nor Remy may have known it yet, but Emma could tell from a hundred miles away that those two were crazy for each other. And what did she have? A balding older man who reminded her of just the person she was trying to escape – herself.
She suddenly wished she hadn't been so hasty and shouted at Bobby the other day, because, after all, she'd secretly quite enjoyed they're little tryst, not to mention the fact that he'd got pissed enough to tell her exactly what he thought of her. And now all she wanted to do was go back to the house and phone him… perhaps apologize to him…maybe even invite him in for a cup of tea and a civilized chat… and quite possibly (if she was in a good mood) give him the opportunity to kiss her again.
But she'd promised Rogue she'd wait for the plumber to come and she couldn't let her down, could she?
It was another half-hour before the guy finally showed up, and by then Emma was literally itching to get back home before she changed her flighty mind and decided not to call her handsome gardener after all.
-oOo-
Betsy glanced down at her watch and decided she was a little too early. She still had a good ten minutes to kill before her interview with Glamour Inc started, but she was just too excited to sit around in her SmartCar waiting. Sliding out of the front seat she brushed down her chic new suit and looked at the facade of the elegant old building in front of her, the Glamour Boutique where Millicent Collins sold her very own homemade fashions. Standing there for a moment she got a vision of what this place could become if she, Betsy Braddock, became its proud new owner. The first and best eco-friendly fashion house in New York, the Braddock Boutique.
It didn't sound bad. It didn't sound bad at all.
"So you made it after all."
At the familiar voice Betsy swung round to find Warren standing a little way behind her, dressed in a simple dark gray pinstripe suit, his usually unruly blond locks combed back to reveal the chiseled openness of his handsome face. She'd decided that she wasn't going to push things between them, but even so she couldn't help her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.
"I sure did," she nodded. "And I must say it was a surprise receiving that phone call yesterday. Your doing, I suspect?"
"But of course," he grinned easily. "I saw the ad in the papers and I just couldn't resist. I know it was awfully gauche of me but I hope you don't mind. Nothing's fixed yet, of course – I just thought you'd like to have a look round, see how you liked it."
She laughed a little, unable to be cross with him. "Don't worry, I think I can definitely find it my heart to forgive you. But Warren… I really have to admit that even though daddy's pretty well off – and while I still have some savings from my modeling days – I really can't afford to be buying an entire fashion house – "
"Oh, no no no," he held up a hand and brushed away her comment. "That's not what I meant at all. Of course I wasn't expecting you to put any money into this venture, Betsy. That's what I'm here for."
"You?" she voiced in amazement.
"Well," he colored slightly and scratched the back of his neck in a way she already found adorable. "I was thinking, maybe I could expand my interests into the fashion industry… Worthington Inc needs this opportunity, Betts, now that one of its potential mergers may not be pulling through… Only problem is, I don't have a clue about anything in the fashion industry, and I need someone to act as managing director in my stead… And I was racking my brains to think of someone who had the relevant experience and what the hey! Your name just popped in there…" He stopped and looked at her, continuing enthusiastically: "Just think about it a sec, Betts. With this place you'll be able to make your own clothes any way you want. No furs, no skins, no nothing you don't want. And you'll have your own workshops and tailors too, so you won't have to use those Chinese sweatshops you were talking about. It'll be perfect."
Betsy listened to his speech with a growing sense of enlightenment as she realized that this was more than just a potential joint business venture between them. He was trying to show her how much he cared about her, how much he knew she wanted to reconcile both these things she loved – fashion and the environment. For the first time someone understood her. Someone had taken notice of her dreams, and it meant more to her than anything. If she hadn't had an ounce of restraint she would have flung her arms round him there and then, but she knew it wasn't the time for such public displays. Even if she was grateful for his attentiveness, there was so much they still needed to talk about first.
"Warren," she began instead. "I don't know what to say. This is…it's more than I could've ever dreamed of. I… I just don't know whether I can accept…"
"Well, of course there's no pressure," Warren hastened to add, thinking she was going to refuse him. If anything it made her warm to him all the more. "Today is just a little tour and a chat with Ms. Collins afterwards. There's absolutely no obligation – if you don't like it then you won't hear another word from me. I promise."
She glanced at him, trying to gauge the sincerity in his eyes. As always, she found nothing but warmth and honesty in his gaze. She'd been a fool ever to doubt him.
"Alright, Warren," she nodded with a grin. "I'll play ball. In fact, I'd love to." She nodded to the entrance, said: "Shall we take a look inside?"
His face lit up as a relieved smile played across his lips.
"I'm ready when you are, Ms. Braddock. Always."
He walked up to the threshold and as he did so he held out an arm to her. The only thing left for her to do was to take it, and so she did.
-xXx-
Jean set down the phone and walked from the balcony to the lounge where Scott was sitting going through some more paperwork. Surprise, surprise. With a sigh she threw herself down on the couch and snuggled up beside him as best she could.
"More paperwork?" she asked, slipping her arm through his.
"Yup," he nodded absently. "Have to go through the main points raised at the conference before I go back to work." He paused, looking down at the top of her head. "Who was that on the phone?"
"Oh, just Rogue letting me know she's okay," Jean replied morosely.
"How's she holding up?" Scott asked with genuine concern. Ever since he'd come back, Jean had noticed that he was investing more effort into their relationship, and apparently this even extended to her friends, whom Jean knew he'd never approved of.
"Could be better," Jean sighed. "She said she went to the viewing today, which of course was very difficult for her. Apparently Cody's parents totally blanked her – as if things weren't bad enough for her already," she added distastefully.
Scott hmm-ed his agreement, now completely focused on his work again. Jean frowned up at him. He'd barely been back a day and here he was, nose to the grindstone yet again. It frustrated her.
"So," she began flippantly, "when are you going to tell me about this Madelyne?"
She physically felt him freeze under her touch. Nevertheless she'd gotten his attention. His jaw was set as he slowly he placed his papers down.
"Jean, I told you the truth yesterday."
"I don't doubt that you did," she returned seriously. "But I need to know the truth. The full truth."
His mind was now totally focused on her. Turning, he took her hands in his own and looked her deeply in the eye.
"Her name's Madelyne Pryor," he explained after a moment to gather his thoughts. "She's my counterpart in our California-based sister company. We met at the private bash the night before the conference started. We exchanged a few pleasantries, had a nice, normal chat. She seemed…like a nice person, Jean. I had no idea of what would happen next."
"And what did happen next?" Jean asked in a murmur.
"I honestly don't know," he replied, his tone troubled. "I don't know whether it was something I said or what, but she just suddenly became fixated with me. I couldn't get rid of her. At first it was just little things, like insisting she eat breakfast at my table every morning, or making a point of sitting next to me at the conference table. I thought she was just being friendly. But then she started getting too close for comfort – touching my hand while we were talking, making suggestive comments. Jean, believe me when I say I hadn't done anything to warrant such attention. I just didn't know what to do to get rid of her."
Jean listened quietly. From the agitated look on his face she could tell that he was still genuinely troubled by his encounter with this woman. In a way she was kind of flattered that another woman found her fiancé attractive, but the thought disturbed her and she put it aside.
"So what did you do?" she queried.
"Well," he continued, "I started to feel really uncomfortable, so I told her that I wasn't interested in her as anything but a colleague and an acquaintance, and that furthermore I was engaged to be married. I thought it'd get her off my back, but if anything it made her even more determined to get her hands on me." He took in a deep breath before carrying on. "That day – the day you phoned – she'd managed to worm her way into my room and when I came back from lunch she was waiting for me on my bed. In her underwear, no less! Well, needless to say I was shocked. I didn't know what to do. I told her the only woman I was interested in was you and I wanted her to get out. But she just came on even stronger. And then you phoned."
He raised his eyes to hers, exhaled a long breath. "I know I sounded as guilty as hell, Jean, but it was only because I was so flustered. She just wouldn't get the message, even when you were right there on the phone to me. After you'd hung up, I finally managed to turn her out."
Jean saw how flustered he still was and attempted to reassure him, reaching out and affectionately straightening his collar for him. "And did she come back?" she murmured. He rolled his eyes almost humorously.
"She sure did. But no way near as strong as Friday, thank God. Seems she kind of got the message. Didn't stop her from flirting when she could though." His face straightened and he cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, stroking her softly. "I'm sorry I worried you Jean. I promise you, there's no one I want but you."
"I know," she replied quietly, leaning into his touch and wishing she still felt that warmth inside, the warmth she felt when Logan touched her… Scott leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, and she closed her eyes, letting him do so.
"So," he asked her playfully, breaking their kiss by just an inch. "What did my gorgeous fiancée get up to while her man was away?"
She wanted to tell him about Logan, but she couldn't get the words out; because Logan was still on her mind, because she couldn't tell Scott that it was truly an affair that was over and done with. So she smiled a forced smile and said: "Oh, nothing much. Just the usual. You know, wedding stuff…" She shrugged.
"Now I almost feel guilty for having all the fun," he remarked jokingly. "But since we're on the subject, how about we go through those wedding costs again? Just to be sure?"
Jean watched on as he got out his giant calculator, and she thought, just this once, she'd indulge his obsession with money. While she went to get the receipts from the bedroom, Scott's words consumed her mind. There was no doubt in her heart that his words were sincere and that she should have been grateful.
So why was she still wishing that he'd given into temptation? Why did she still wish that she had a reason to run into Logan's arms once more?
-oOo-
Bobby was done with blondes. He was done with beautiful, sophisticated ladies. He was also done with insane, rich women who had a penchant for sado-masochism and who just happened to be his boss. In short, he was done with Emma Frost. From now on he was going to date nice, normal girls who liked to do the usual thing – eat out at the nearest Italian and make out in the theater. For this reason he was now sitting in the college cafeteria attempting to chat up the new Japanese exchange student. Opal Tanaka was pretty and black-haired and brown eyed, about as far from Emma Frost as you could get. Besides, all the guys said that Japanese women were hot for Western men, so Bobby didn't think he could fail to score even if he tried to. So far it was working. Opal sat and talked to him in her broken English, batted her eyelids and twiddled her hair a lot. It would've been fine if Bobby could stop his mind wandering onto Emma and her stupid rich boyfriend, Sebastian Shaw, or whatever his name was.
He was just in the middle of being taught how to say 'konnichiwa', 'sayonara' and 'domo arigato' when his cell phone went off. The caller was unknown, and, very much confused, Bobby picked up his phone and took the call.
"Hello?"
"Bobby?" It was Emma's rather shrill voice, and he immediately gave an inward groan. Alarm bells went off in his head. Why was she calling him?
"What do you want?" he asked rudely, not knowing why he didn't turn the phone off there and then.
"Well…you, actually," came the reply, sounding very desperate indeed. Bobby didn't know whether to be shocked or pleased or angry, or all of them together.
"What? Why? Are your fish dying again or something? Because I already told you on Saturday, I quit."
"I know, I know," Emma interjected quickly, sounding as if she was going to have a nervous breakdown. "And yes, for your information, my fish are dying, but that's not why I called you. Bobby I need you to come round so that I can explain myself and my actions properly and –"
Bobby rolled his eyes and glowered. Here it came. Emma Frost being her usual, manipulative self. No doubt if he did go round like the puppy dog she thought he was, she'd trample all over him yet again. He was tired of being her love-slave. He didn't trust her as far as he could kick her.
"Ms. Frost, you made yourself perfectly clear on Saturday," he interrupted coolly. "I could do without hearing anymore, thanks very much. And by the way, I'm with someone right now. A girl. Listening to you rant is the last thing I want to be bothered with."
Usually he'd be skating on thin ice and he half expected her to start shrieking at him for his insolence, but she didn't.
"Bobby, I want to say I'm sorry!" Emma literally pleaded. "Listen – I was wrong. I was thinking about everything you said, and you were right about me. I'm an insensitive, manipulative cow and I don't deserve you. But Bobby…I want to deserve you. I really, really want to."
Bobby didn't know whether to be dumbfounded or jump for joy. Here he was, on the phone to what must be one of the most beautiful and powerful women in the whole of New York – and she was practically prostrating herself before him. Not only that, she wanted him. She wanted poor, dumb Bobby Drake. And he simply couldn't resist getting a bit of his own back.
"Gee, I dunno Emma," he began airily. "I promised myself I was going to date nice, normal women now and well… Opal here is real friendly, she's been teaching me some Japanese and tonight we're gonna go watch some Kenuichiro Terosawa movies back at her place. I don't think I have any time to come down and listen to whatever it is you have to say…" He trailed off, feigning indecision.
"Then tomorrow, how about you come tomorrow," she beseeched him.
"Tomorrow? Sorry, no can do, Opal and I are going to watch the college team play."
"Then how about the day after?" By now it sounded distinctly as if Emma was going to wet herself if she didn't have her way. Bobby finally lost his temper and gave up toying with her.
"Look Emma, to tell you the truth, I don't know whether it's worth it. I mean, how am I supposed to believe you're not going to insult me again, or even that you're going to be serious with me for once? I just really don't want to deal with my head being screwed with again."
He expected her to finally get the message, realize her plan had failed, hang up and leave him alone. But to his surprise she continued, her tone half angry, half earnest. "Please Bobby. Listen to me. Do I sound like someone who's scamming you? Dammit, Drake, I'm begging you. I'm on my hands and knees here. All I ask is that you give me the benefit of the doubt. That's all I'm asking. Please."
Bobby pretended to think about it. Truthfully he was skeptical about anything Emma had to offer him, but there was one thing he couldn't pretend and that was that he didn't care for his temperamental New York socialite. So he sighed and said: "Alright. How about Friday lunch time?"
"Yes! I'll take the afternoon off, you can meet me here." He didn't think he'd ever heard her sound so relieved. "Bobby…" her tone was suddenly softer, "thank you."
The next moment she was gone.
Bobby set down his phone thoughtfully, not knowing whether he was going to suffer for this later or not.
Opal looked at him, confused.
"Who's Kenuichiro Terosawa?" she asked.
-xXx-
Millicent Collins was a tall, slim and graceful woman in her seventies, and despite her well-earned wrinkles and salt-and-pepper hair, she still carried herself with an air of elegance few women half her age could muster. She could also have taught a few of her younger contemporaries something about fashion, wearing a classic blue dress suit topped off by a simple chiffon scarf and a single string of pearls. Betsy was thrilled to meet this legend amongst supermodels, and as she now sat across from the older woman, with Warren sitting by her side, she wouldn't have been surprised if she was dreaming. But every moment of it was real.
"It's a real pleasure to meet you Mr. Worthington, Ms. Braddock," the old model smiled at the two over elegant cups of tea in her function room. She smiled a benevolent, white-toothed grin at Betsy. "It was such a shame when I heard you'd given up the modeling profession, my dear. You had such talent."
"Well," Betsy replied rather bashfully, "I think I outgrew modeling really, Ms. Collins. You see, there were other goals I wanted to pursue."
"I can well understand that," Millicent nodded seriously. "Modeling is a great career, but one often finds that there is so much more one can offer the fashion industry – don't you think?"
"Oh, I absolutely agree," Betsy nodded enthusiastically. "Well…That's why I was interested in this place, really."
"So, how did you find it? The tour of the workshops, I mean? They are rather small, I'll admit – but I prefer things this way, really. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer a close-knit atmosphere amongst my staff – it does so much improve the quality of the garments we produce."
"I thought it was wonderful!" Betsy enthused. "And to be honest, I'm not really looking for anything big. My idea for the business – if Mr. Worthington and I purchase it, that is – is really quite small-scale. At least at first. I'm hoping to appeal to rather a niche market, so the size of your workshops isn't a problem at all."
"Excellent!" Millicent smiled, "I'm so glad you approve, dear." She turned to Warren, who'd been sitting quietly on the sidelines watching the two women talk with a slight smile on his lips. "And you, Mr. Worthington? What did you think?"
"Oh, I know absolutely nothing about the fashion business, if you'll forgive me, Ms. Collins," he replied good-naturedly. "If Betsy here thinks everything's in order then it's fine with me. Of course, we shall have to discuss things a little more between ourselves, but we were both very satisfied with what we saw today…Right, Betsy?"
Betsy nodded vigorously over her tea and cake, which was enjoying very much indeed.
"I'm so very pleased to hear it," Millicent grinned. "And if you should buy Glamour Inc, I should be even more pleased to know it was being left in such capable hands!" She sat up, her expression turning more serious. "But shall I get the contracts now – just for the both of you to have a look through before you make your final decision?"
"Of course, of course," Warren spoke up. "We'd love to."
While the older woman was busy getting her secretary to fetch the relevant documents, Warren leaned over towards Betsy and murmured: "So, what do you think?"
"I think you're wonderful," she replied, her mouth still full of cake. He beamed.
"And I think you need to swallow before you speak," he joked.
"Shut up!" she shot humorously at him before swallowing.
"Seriously," he said.
"Seriously, I think you're wonderful, Warren."
His smile grew so big she thought his face would burst.
"Flattery will get you anywhere," he replied saucily, then paused before asking in a rush: "You wanna go out for dinner tonight?"
Betsy almost choked on her cake. He was kidding, right? She couldn't want for anything better… Slowly she laid down her cup of tea and replied: "Warren, you already know I'm spoken for…"
"Yes, I know," he interrupted quickly. "I'm sorry, that came out totally the wrong way. What I actually meant was…" he rubbed the back of his neck again, betraying his sudden nervousness to her, "…would you like to join me for a business dinner? Where we can discuss the contract details?"
He finished, glancing up at her hopefully, expecting her to say no once more. But instead, she laughed.
"What?" he questioned in confusion. "What did I say?"
"Warren," she replied breathlessly, "you are so transparent!" He gave a wounded look and she hastened to add in a lower tone: "Look, Warren… I'd love to go out with you, but right now… it's not the right time to be making that kind of decision. I…I really have to sort things out with Neal first."
"Sort things out?" He frowned. "You mean…?"
"I mean…" she replied prettily, a slight smile on her lips, "I'd really like to join you for dinner sometime this week – after I tell Neal it's over between us for good." His expression lightened and she smiled, added: "Maybe you and I could have, you know…just a casual date? Nothing serious, just a nice, normal meal out and a friendly chat?" She reached out and ran a finger under the lapel of his jacket, added: "At least until we figure we want something more?"
He looked down at the light, sensuous movements of her finger before returning his gaze back to her deep violet eyes. "I know what I want right now, Betsy," he murmured, "but if you want us to wait, we will. I'm willing to do anything you want."
She raised an eyebrow seductively.
"Anything?"
He grinned back wickedly.
"Anything."
-oOo-
It'd taken more than just his well-renowned charm to get a super last-minute flight down to Mississippi. It'd taken a whole lot of begging, pleading, tearing out of hair and a general humiliating self-debasement. But it was something Remy had been willing to risk if it meant he was going to find Anna again.
And now he was in his office, packing a few things randomly into his briefcase even though he knew they were things he wasn't likely to need. The only thing he'd need once he got there was his charm, his good looks, and a script full of 'I love yous' if he was ever going to get her back.
Dammit, he sure was swallowing a lot of masculine pride these days. He wasn't sure his ego could take much more.
He'd just called himself a cab to the airport when Monet entered his office without knocking. Normally he wouldn't have been too enthusiastic about seeing her, but he was much too preoccupied to care right now.
"You going somewhere?" she asked him when he ignored her entrance.
"M'gonna be away for a while," he explained, hunting his pockets for his wallet. "Be a darlin' and tell JP for me, willya?"
"Away?" she repeated in a suspicious tone. "Where? For how long?"
"Mississippi. Not sure how long yet."
Monet followed his actions with narrowed brown eyes. "Mississippi? Anna Raven's been away the past couple of days. Does this happen to have anything to do with her?"
"As a matter of fact, Mon, it does," he replied firmly. "You got a problem wit' dat?"
She was silent a long while, quietly assessing his words, her expression slowly lifting with enlightenment.
"You finally did it, didn't you!" she finally spoke, her tone one of breathless amazement. "You finally broke through that stuck-up hussy's barriers! You screwed her and sent her packing!" She sat on the edge of the desk, clapped her hands and laughed. "Well, this is all too good to be true!"
He glowered at her, finding an utter dislike for the woman he'd never felt before. "I'm glad you find it amusin', Mon," he stated between gritted teeth. "An' just for de record – it did not happen dat way."
Her eyes went wide at his venomous tone. "Remy – darling! You're taking this completely the wrong way! You got what you wanted and I'm happy for you! But don't you see that chasing after her is a big mistake?"
"Non, I don't," he replied firmly, making his way for the door. Seeing he really was in earnest, she jumped off the desk and stopped him halfway across the room.
"Remy, don't be an idiot! Isn't it painfully obvious? You scared her off and she wants nothing more to do with you!"
"I'd prefer her to tell me dat to my face, rather than hear it from you, thanks very much," he insisted, moving to the door again, but she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and forced him to face her.
"Remy, don't you get it? She knows you used her, she knows she's played with fire and she can't take the heat. Leave her be. She'll be back sooner or later…"
"Who says I used her!" he interrupted loudly, beginning to lose his temper.
"Pfft, come on, Remy," she scoffed. "We both know what you really want. You want this." She tugged him towards her, rubbing her body seductively against his. "And you know I can give it to you," she added breathily, before raising her lips and capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. It was one step too far. He didn't mind being teased, taunted, or even beaten at his own game if the times required it. But not today. Not in his present mood. He pushed her away roughly and she staggered back, confused, angry, humiliated.
"What was that for –?"
"What d'you think!" he interjected before she could finish. "I don't know what kind of illusion you're under here Monet, but I assure you, it ain't reality! Okay, we had some fun, and it was great while it lasted. But when are you gonna get it into your thick head dat it's her I want, not you!"
She glared at him, breathless, the truth finally dawning on her. And she looked hurt. She actually looked hurt, but he was so angry he didn't care anymore.
"I ain't been wit' another woman since she came here," he continued to explain in a low voice. "She's de real t'ing, Mon. I'm sorry."
She stood for a while, his words slowly sinking in. Then she violently swiped the back of her hand across her lips, wiping away the taste of his mouth as if it were some disease.
"You're scum, Remy," she spat at him as she finally left. "She'll never want you back."
Spinning on her heels she stalked out of the room without once looking back, slamming the door shut and leaving her parting words echoing ominously in his ears.
-xXx-
To be continued...