Disclaimer: All characters contained herein belong to Marvel and not to us.

Note: Wow! What a reception! Needless to say we're both thrilled! Thank you so much for the support and all the reviews you guys left - you rock our world! Now for just a few replies: - to the many people who asked about Rogue waiting until Remy finds out if he's 'clean'... I guess it's just a way of giving her some peace of mind - if he's clean then she's clean. And we also suspect she wants to do things the more respectable way... Not to mention have an excuse to make Remy squirm! How long she lasts though, is debatable. ;p IvyZoe - Fair point about Rogue's behaviour. I think she's feeling slightly guilty that she kinda started things the wrong way round with Remy, and feels very self-conscious about that. Obviously all the rumours going around about her at work isn't helping that sense of shame. And I think she's also worried about how an office romance might adversely affect her career. But the situation will naturally be resolved in due course, so read on. :) Rogue4787 - Welcome back, hun! No, I haven't heard of Janet Evanovich, though I can't speak for Angy... I'm flattered you compare our writing style to hers, and I'm sure Angy does too! Chaos-harbinger - Hey, are you reading our minds here? LOL. All we can say is, as far as Belladonna's concerned, all will be revealed in due course... ;)

So that's it for now... Thanks again and please keep up the support!

-Ludi x


Little By Little

(2) Cat and Mouse

Remy LeBeau was sitting in the front seat of his expensive red Porsche and idly flicking through the channels on the radio, not even stopping to listen what was actually playing. He'd been sitting here waiting for the last fifteen minutes. It was the longest he'd ever had to wait for a woman in his entire life. If he wasn't completely crazy he probably would've left ages ago.

He half suspected Anna was making him wait on purpose. It was, after all, exactly the kind of thing she'd do to get back at him for being so irresistible to her.

It ain't my fault if she can't say no to me…

With a final sigh he switched off the radio, slumped back into his seat and stared blankly into space as the minutes continued to tick by.

She has just as much of a hold on you as you do on her, he lamented silently, frowning up at the dark road, lit by a seemingly endless string of pearly white streetlights. Dis girl gon' be de death of me one day, I swear it.

It was true that he wasn't used to waiting around this long for women. Usually they'd be clamoring just to get smile and a 'bonjour' out of him, let alone a proper date. He'd always found it rather amusing, and he would've been lying if he said he hadn't abused the fact that women found him irresistibly attractive. In matters of the heart he was shockingly cavalier - a bad boy who never tied himself down to anything more or less than a roll in the haystack and a wink and a kiss - but it was exactly what women found so appealing about him.

That wasn't to say that he never took love seriously, because he did. Very much so. The only thing was, he'd had his heart broken so spectacularly before that he didn't think he'd ever be able to love again. So he figured he might as well do without it. Being able to charm a whole group of women simply by walking into the room had meant he could get away with far more than he realized, and he'd always loved the buzz of playing fast and loose with their hearts. Getting away with it was just a matter of knowing how to play your cards right. And Remy had been - and still was - a master at playing his cards right.

It completely confounded him then, that he was still sitting in his car at twenty past seven in the evening, having been banished there while a certain Southern Belle finally decided to get ready.

There was something kind of humiliating about their relationship. For one thing, the very next morning after finally bedding her, she'd been the one to walk out him without even saying goodbye. For another, he'd been the one to chase her all the way down to Mississippi in a last desperate bid to win her back. Hell, he'd even gone through a temporary bout of insanity and said those dreaded 'three little words' to her - only to be completely rebuffed.

By that point, surely any sane man would've thrown in the towel. But paradoxically, it had made him even more besotted with her.

Then again, Anna Raven always seemed to have that effect on him.

The more she played hard to get, the more he couldn't help chasing. He wasn't even sure what it was he liked about her. She was beautiful and sexy and as passionate as he was, that was for sure. And unlike most women she didn't throw herself at his feet and beg him to make love to her here, now, please, I simply can't wait a moment longer! Nope, she didn't give him any of that. Instead she insulted him. She sassed him. She called him names and even slapped him when he got too close for comfort. She told him exactly what she thought, and she didn't make any bones about it.

It was also plain as day to Remy that she was crazy about him and had been since day one. The first moment they'd met, something had just clicked; the fireworks had gone off with enough charge to put a fourth of July spectacular to shame. Even if he hadn't seen her as anything more than a potential conquest at the time, he'd known she was going to be far more than just the usual piece of skirt. She was his other-half, his soul mate. She seemed to understand everything about him without even trying, and well… well, Remy would like to tell you he could read his winsome Mississippi river rat like the proverbial book.

And did he mention that she was incredibly hot in bed too?

Remy smiled to himself just thinking about that one night they'd shared together. The way Rogue was holding out he didn't think he was ever going to get a repeat experience, and he was very much afraid that by the end of the month he was going to be dead of celibacy.

Just as he was mulling on how disastrous such a fate would be, Anna emerged from her apartment block, still half trailing a high heel behind her. She'd only just managed to pull it on when she finally approached the car.

"Sorry Ah'm late," she apologized breathlessly, yanking the door open and tumbling into the passenger seat. "Ah couldn't find mah earrings."

Normally, such an excuse would've left him spluttering in indignation, but this time round he found he couldn't get a breath out, let alone any words. Dressed in a satin, knee-length halter-neck dress of forest green, and a chic, black velvet jacket, with an elegant chocolate brown scarf twined round her throat, she looked simply delicious. Before he could finally make a suitable comeback she had leaned across and planted a lingering kiss on his lips, purposely affording him a fleeting glimpse of her plunging neckline beforehand.

"No problem, chere," he murmured once the kiss was over. "I t'ink all's forgiven."

The greedy look on his face spoke louder than words as he glanced not so subtly down her cleavage again. With a half-frown, half-smirk, she settled back into her seat, gracefully crossing her mile-long, sheer-stockinged legs. Remy swallowed. What he wouldn't do to have those wrapped round him right now…

"Remy, you're gawpin'!" she snapped at him.

He still couldn't quite unlatch his gaze from her legs as he turned back to the steering wheel. "Uh…sorry."

She narrowed her eyes at him, since he didn't look sorry at all.

"Ah take it you like," she remarked slyly.

"Oh, I'm very appreciative," he returned smoothly, flashing his teeth at her. "But I t'ink I'll like you better in jes' de stockings and de heels."

"Keep wishin', sugah," she replied just as silkily, her eyes glittering dangerously under her lashes. "Your fairy godmother might just come along some day soon."

Remy sincerely hoped that, if it was going to take a fairy godmother for Rogue to get her kit off, she would make a prompt appearance that very night. Turning the key in the ignition, he started up the car. Better to start driving - anything to concentrate on rather than the fact that his 'overactive l'il friend down south' was already starting to express himself.

"Sugah, y'all are sweatin'," Rogue commented when they'd only got so far down the road. "Yah sure you don't want me to drive?"

"Uh… no t'anks."

He didn't think he could handle watching her hand skillfully manipulating the gear stick without getting any more aroused than he was already.

-oOo-

It took us an extra ten minutes to get to the restaurant, seeing as for some reason Remy kept taking the wrong turning on the way there. Luckily he'd had the foresight to reserve a table, because we ended up being half an hour later than we'd originally planned.

We'd actually ended up eating at a quaint little Italian with the traditional candlelit dinner for two. Remy took suspiciously way too much pleasure from feeding me the fresh strawberries over dessert (yes, we ended up eating our dessert from bowls with spoons after all,) and I started to think I was seeing another fetish in the making. Despite all the conversations we've had since we've met, I don't think I'm any closer to understanding the man. He's so skillful at turning the topic away from himself and back onto me. I don't even know if he has any brothers or sisters, or where exactly he was born, or even what he did before he came to L&L. It took me weeks just to beat out the fact that he's 27 years old.

I, on the other hand, had spent the entirety of our meal blathering on about myself, how shit high school had been, what a twat my previous boyfriend Joe was, not to mention the complete life stories of my friends, Jean, Emma and Betsy. Of course, I'd sidestepped the whole Cody issue. Not that I don't trust him or anything, just that it's a part of my life I don't really want to discuss with him yet. Throughout my entire spiel he'd simply sat there and smiled, listening attentively (or so I thought), adding the appropriate comment when it was needed and holding my hand when I was retelling something particularly melodramatic. Still, I couldn't help noticing that every so often his eyes would absently stray towards my cleavage, which left me wondering just how much he'd really been listening to after all.

After dinner, he insisted on taking me out for drinks.

"Are yah tryin' t' get meh drunk?" I demanded of him archly as we stopped outside a small bar in an unknown side street.

"Chere, why would I do dat to you?" he asked with mock offence. He opened the door of the car, stepped out and then popped his head back in, adding: "Remy wants you to be completely conscious when he finally gets you to hisself. So's he can hear you scream for him."

I had the overwhelming urge to 'accidentally' scratch his precious car with my door keys after that one.

We step into the bar, and I can't help but be impressed. From the outside, the Hideaway looks a little dingy and rundown. But on the inside, while in no way ultra modern or ultra sleek, it's welcoming, inviting and full of character. Kind of alternative, but hip enough to attract the rich young twenty-somethings. The place is already pretty full by the looks of it; the music is pounding, the drinks are flowing and the hormones are flying - even though I notice a couple of girls looking up and passing knowing smiles in Remy's direction as soon as we show up. I'm starting to think the female rivalry is something I'm gonna have to get used to fast.

Remy, however, ignores all the attention. He leads me to the bar and helps me onto a barstool with a typically wandering hand, which I slap away before it can get anymore adventurous.

"Can't blame me for tryin', chere," he grins, before slipping my jacket off my shoulders and spending too much time doing it. I involuntarily shiver as his fingers brush against my shoulders and my upper arms. You don't know how much of a battle it is trying to hold out from that man when he's determined to seduce me.

"So the bad penny finally makes an appearance," says a gruff and vaguely familiar voice from the other side of the bar. I look up and find myself face to face with a stout, hairy little man with the physique of a brick house. He's briskly cleaning a glass with a white cloth and glaring at Remy with a half-disapproving, half-humorous expression on his face. Behind me, Remy grins back at the familiar man complacently, but I still can't place him.

"You know what dey say about de bad penny, homme," he remarks easily, "he jes' keeps turnin' up."

"An' that's why I'm never gonna be shot of you," the man grumbles, but there's still a trace of humor in his voice. He places down the glass and casts me an approving glance. "And lemme guess. This is -"

"Anna Raven. Otherwise known as Rogue - a name which she happens to live up to," Remy introduces me, unable to hide the hint of pride in his voice. The man appraises me again and nods, smiling.

"Rogue, eh? Yeah, I remember you from the weddin'."

Remy looks confused, but at the words it suddenly clicks where I've seen him before.

"You!" I cry, shocked.

"You know each other?" Remy asks, surprised.

"Only by sight," the other man answers. He turns back to me, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry 'bout what happened with Jeannie. I know I spoiled her day and if it's any consolation to yer… I'm still gonna be feelin' the guilt for a long time yet." He pauses, holds out an awkward hand to me. "The name's Logan. At yer service."

I reach out and take his hand awkwardly, uncertain as to whether to trust him. He did spoil Jean's wedding day after all - but on the other hand, Jean wasn't exactly enthusiastic about marriage, and she did tell me she had feelings for Logan that she no longer had for her ex-husband-to-be, Scott… And so I shake his hand anyway.

"Am I hearin' dis right?" Remy interrupts sardonically. "You're de one who gatecrashed her friend's weddin'?"

"And stopped it right in its tracks," I add pointedly, to which Logan looks shamefaced again. Remy, however, looks impressed. "Whoa. You really liked dat femme, didn't you. Pity she ain't wit' you now, neh?"

Logan and I both seem to have the sudden desire to smack him.

"I hope this punk is treatin' you right, Anna," he addresses me gruffly, glaring venomously at Remy. "Randy little bastard can't be trusted. I could tell you a few stories about him, I could."

"Ah'm sure yah could," I reply sarcastically, glaring fixedly at Remy too.

"Homme, I ain't got not'ing to hide now," Remy replies calmly. "You can tell Anna all you want, don't matter much t' me. S'all in de past."

"Are yah quite sure about that?" I ask him, an eyebrow raised.

"Completely," Remy grins. "Now how 'bout you stop stirrin' up trouble, Logan, and fix us some drinks instead?"

I spend the next hour or so chatting to Remy, sipping as little alcohol as possible, and furtively eyeing up Logan. As I watch him bustling away behind the bar, serving the patrons and bantering with customers, I begin to understand what Jean sees in him. The humor, the spirit, the strength of character, the solidity and sensitivity. I can also tell why she's distanced herself from him the past few weeks. It's gonna take some getting used to his passion and exuberance, especially in her ordered and structured life.

Whatever I may think about Logan, I decide the Hideaway is definitely somewhere I could get used to, and that it'd make a nice venue for girlie outings, if only bringing Jean along would be at best untactful. The people are friendly, the drinks are superb (Logan's an expert with the shaker), and the music's great. And despite all the attention Remy's been attracting, I notice quite a few guys giving me the once-over as well, which kinda makes me feel better about all the jealous looks being thrown my way. Remy, however, doesn't seem even slightly jealous when he notices the male competition. In fact he has the smuggest look on his face I've ever seen, which is definitely saying something.

"Looks like you're a hit, chere," he notes with amusement over his bourbon.

"Looks like you are too," I reply dryly. "Ah take it these are old huntin' grounds? From the looks of things some of the gals here know you already."

He smiles easily.

"Everyone round here knows me, chere. But don't worry," he places a hand on the small of my back and rubs me lightly, "you know I only got eyes for one lady in dis place."

"Y'all have got more than just 'eyes' for her, sugah," I murmur reproachfully when his hand wanders a bit too far for comfort.

"Y'noticed?" he grins suggestively. I smirk and remove his hand from my butt.

"Any gal with blood runnin' in her veins woulda figured it out by now," I pout. Unfazed, his hand wanders up from my butt to caress my pout with a forefinger. "You're cute when you get jealous," he teases me.

"Who says Ah'm jealous?" I reply hotly when he moves his hand to tug at a loose lock of my hair.

"Your eyes do, chere," he smiles at me. "But it's okay. A man likes to know when he's appreciated."

I frown at him. "You mean t'tell me you aren't jealous?" But his smile just widens.

"A man also likes to know when his femme's appreciated too. Makes him realize just how lucky he is."

He holds my gaze, and despite his same old cocky smile I can tell how serious he actually is.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" I murmur. "Isn't there anythin' that gets under your skin?"

"You do," he replies without missing a beat.

"Is that so?" I raise an eyebrow at him and reach out to playfully rearrange his collar. "Looks like we're even then, huh, sugah?"

A little later Remy leaves for the little boy's room, and I sit idly, running a finger over the rim of my margarita and licking the salt absently off my fingers. Ever since I've been occupied with Remy, I've neglected to ask Jean how she's really feeling about the mess her wedding turned out to be. I feel a little guilty about that, especially since Jean went to so much trouble to look after me when I was down.

"Can I getcha another?"

I glance up to see Logan standing beside me again. I half-smile and shake my head.

"No thanks. Ah don't wanna give Remy any excuses…"

"Hrmph." Logan's mouth twists into a disapproving grimace. "He is treatin' you right, isn't he?"

"Depends on what your definition of 'right' is," I reply with a small laugh. "But yes - Ah'd have t' say he is."

"Well, if he gives you any trouble, don't hesitate to call me," Logan offers roughly. "If you ask me, that Cajun needs a dressin' down, and I'd be more than happy to give it to him."

I crease my brow, a little nonplussed at Logan's eagerness to help me out. Could it be something to do with being a friend of Jean's?

"Ah think Ah can take care of mahself just fine," I reply. "But thanks for the offer anyway."

There's a short silence before he suddenly opens his mouth and asks: "Is Jean… is she okay?"

I'm a little stunned by the abruptness of his question, but there's such emotion behind his voice that I can't help but feel sorry for him.

"She's fine," I answer shortly. "Jean's a resilient gal, Mr. Logan. She'll make it through."

He smiles. "I know," he replies. I half expect him to ask me to pass a message to her, but he seems completely satisfied knowing she's okay, and wanders off to the other end of the bar again. I'm left sitting there, mulling over this latest incident when Remy finally turns up.

"Hmm, looks like you're outta juice," he remarks with his usual sultry smile as he observes my empty cocktail glass. "Wanna refill?"

I pull a face at him. "How about no?"

"Aw, well, can't blame me for tryin'." He pauses as he sees my rather downcast look. "Somet'ing tells me it's time we should go."

"If yah don't mind," I say, already sliding off the stool.

"Non, not if y' want t' go." He helps me put my jacket back on and casually throws a tip into the bowl, before we finally go out. By now it's half ten and the temperature's practically sub-zero. I shiver as we step out onto the sidewalk.

"So," Remy begins casually as we walk towards the car, "how about stoppin' over at my place and grabbin' de proverbial coffee?"

I never knew how difficult it is to scowl and shiver at the same time until that moment.

"Why do Ah get the feelin' that 'stopping over' isn't nearly as innocent as it sounds?"

"Chere," he draws his arm round my shoulder and pulls me a little closer to him, seeing how cold I am, "I've fulfilled all your crazy requirements and it's drivin' me insane. Come on, I must've passed de test by now!"

I say nothing, inwardly trying not to laugh as I see the desperation on his face. He sees the smile breaking on my face and stops, swiveling me round to face him.

"Oh right? So dis amuses you, huh? Is dis your way of gettin' back at me for all de times I messed wit' your head? Because chere, I've already said I'm sorry…"

He looks so woebegone I can't help it. I grab a hold of his coat and pull him towards me, feeling the warmth of his body dispel the cold around me.

"Ah know," I drawl seductively. "But sorry ain't enough, sugah. Ah want yah to feel thoroughly chastened first. And from the way you've been actin' t'night, Ah don't think you're even halfway towards bein' chastened enough."

I love that look on his face, the one he gives when he can't work out the mixed signals I'm sending him. So I up the ante by pressing myself even closer against him and daring him to work it out. He lets out a soft groan at the close contact.

"I'm gonna go crazy without you, chere…" he says, finally giving in and wrapping his arms round my waist.

"Without me?" I can't resist teasing him further. "We've been seeing each other every day since we first got t'gether…"

But he refuses to hear anymore.

"Do I haveta spell it out to you?" he murmurs, his eyes literally burning into mine. "I wanna ravish you senseless, chere. De past week all I've been t'inkin' about is pinning you up against a wall and havin' my wicked way with you…"

I giggle wickedly under my breath and run a finger lightly across his cheek. I have a funny feeling his fantasies have been a lot more X-rated than that.

"Well, when yah put it that way…" I breathe, trailing off purposefully. He smiles then, that same smile that never fails to melt me, and even if I'd been intending to toy with him, there's no way I can resist him now. "Yah know, all of a sudden Ah could really do with that cup of coffee…"

"I only offer de best in town," he assures me in a sexy undertone. I chuckle and tickle his lips with my forefinger.

"Uh huh?"

"Uh huh." He opens his lips, licks his tongue round my finger, sucking it right into his mouth before letting it go again.

"Mmm, salty, chere," he notes with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Just what were you doin' while Remy was in de bathroom?"

I stare right back at him, and this time I don't even have to think about playing along.

"Nothin' compared t' what Ah'm goin' t' do t' you, sugah" I promise him.

-xXx-

It was the perfect morning.

Outside the sun was shining and the birds were singing. True, it was winter, but the cold was safely consigned to the outdoors as Remy lay in bed and languidly watched the beautiful, green-eyed goddess emerge from the bathroom, toweling dry her tousled brown locks, whilst wearing nothing more than one of his old shirts and a pair of gray sweat pants. He didn't remember ever having looked half as good in them as she did now.

"Got a hairdryer?" the goddess asked in a deep and unconsciously sexy Southern drawl.

"Ummm… nope," he replied, his mind more occupied with the considerable charms of his goddess than with her need for a hairdryer.

"Men," she sighed in a tone he'd heard more than once already. He expected he was going to hear it a lot more often in the future, but from this particular vantage point, he didn't really care.

It was Sunday. The two lovers had been in bed the past 24 hours, and Remy wouldn't have objected to spending another 24 in exactly the same place. Rogue, however, didn't really appreciate the idea of spending the whole weekend being anyone's love slave. She already figured that she'd given him more than his fair share of loving and asking for anymore would be just plain greedy.

So she sat on the edge of the bed and continued to towel her hair dry with her back to him. Her hair was curlier when wet. He liked it.

"You're beautiful," he told her.

"You ain't gettin' no more," she snapped at him, thinking he was angling for something less than innocent.

"Don't want no more sex, chere," he joked. "Otherwise I get bored, non? We only got another 20 positions left t' try out."

She lowered the towel and glared at him over her shoulder.

"You're disgustin', swamp rat!"

He pouted. He didn't remember her waking up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. In fact she'd been very affectionate.

"Remy's only jokin'," he replied in a wounded tone of voice. "What'd I do t' make you so mad?"

The only reply he got was a grumpy 'hmph' from her direction. He half suspected it was because she'd given into him so easily on Friday night, even after all that fencing with one another. And by now he knew that Rogue hated giving anything away to anyone without a fight. It was one of the many qualities he admired in her - amongst many others.

Seeing she was in no mood for banter, he sighed, lay back and twiddled his thumbs, waiting for her to succumb. At moments like these, laying on the charm was the worst thing to coax her out of a mood, so he kept quiet. She lasted all of about three minutes. Throwing her towel petulantly into a corner, she swung back up onto the bed, snuggled up to him and declared woefully: "Ah hate yah, Cajun!"

"I know," he replied indulgently, knowing she really meant to say the exact opposite. For a few moments, neither said anything, letting their thoughts wander.

"What are we gonna do 'bout the Christmas party?" she finally asked in a low voice.

"What about it?" he asked absently, his mind still elsewhere. She gave another irritated sigh and says: "No one knows we're t'gether, stoopid! Jean-Paul will have a fit when he finds out! So will Monet. And as for everyone else… it will confirm what they already think."

"What do they t'ink?" he asked, confused. He wasn't aware of anyone thinking anything untoward about her. To him she was just about perfect in every way (apart from her tendency to fly into a rage at the slightest provocation). It looked like his reply had already put her on the boil, for she sat up and glared at him as ferocious as a tiger. He had to consciously stop himself from grinning. He liked it when she got angry.

"Where've you been the past few months, you yutz! Mars!" She paused and bit her lip before she continued in a lower voice: "Thanks to Monet's rumors, they all think Ah'm a whore."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that. Okay, so he knew Monet was a bitch, but he never thought her backbiting was that vicious.

"You? A whore? Dose girls can talk. Dey be de worst hoes I've ever -" He halted quickly, but not quick enough to avoid a punch on the chest from his loving girlfriend. It was half-playful, but hurt enough for him to wince. Still, he figured he deserved it.

"Ah don't wanna hear another word, Remy!" she exclaimed bitterly. "It's okay for you! If there was evah a whore at L&L it's you, but of course men always get away with it! Hell, y'all are even cheered and applauded for it! Ah never did anythin' wrong - except maybe slip up once. Which was a mistake, by the way!" she reminded him for the umpteenth time, as if that little misadventure didn't count - which he happened to think it did. "And on account of that one single mistake, and Monet thinkin' she's found it out, Ah'm now the office harlot! It ain't fair!" she continued to rant, "How comes you're allowed to mess around during office hours, in full sight of anyone who happens t' come across yah, and Ah get looked at funny if Ah even so much as talk to yah! Where's the justice in that!"

Remy pondered, or appeared to. Normally he would've made a fine joke of the whole thing, if he hadn't realized just how much the whole scenario upset his Southern Belle. Not that he could blame her at all. He just didn't know how serious it really was.

"Den we go to de party as a couple," he finally shrugged. "We go t'gether, and I say t' everyone 'hello everybody, dis is Anna and she's my girlfriend and I love her, and she's a good, honest women who never did nothin' wrong.' Dere. How does dat sound?"

Contrary to expectation, Rogue looked horrified.

"What! Jean-Paul will kill us! He could transfer me to another department! Or even fire me!"

Her statement is so ludicrous that this time he couldn't help laughing.

"Why de hell would JP wanna do dat?"

"Think about it, Remy. Every company's worst nightmare is lovers. They ruin things! Destroy whole projects from within! It's business ethics, Remy! Everyone knows it! Office romances have to be nipped - crushed! - in the bud before they can be allowed to escalate!"

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so animated. Apart from last night, that was.

"Well I never had any trouble wit' it befo-" he protested, only to be silenced by another whack to the chest.

"We have to keep it secret!" Rogue insisted, ignoring his comment as if he'd never made it.

Remy creased his brow in confusion. By now it was a complete mystery to him as to what his beloved Anna really wanted. Did she want to keep their affair a secret? Or did she want to have them announced as a real, official couple? One thing he'd never been able to understand about women was why they had such an overwhelming urge to make things so complicated.

"Rogue," he finally began as calmly as he could, "I'm sure all dis worry is completely unnecessary. Jean-Paul likes you. He's mon ami. And b'tween you and me, he knows dere's somet'ing goin' on b'tween us."

"He what!" Rogue shouted shrilly again.

"Relax, chere," Remy soothed her, brushing a wet lock of white hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "He don't know de whole story, but dat homme's intrigue-sensors are about as sharp as a bloodhound's. He knows we got somet'ing, dat's for sure. It's chemistry, chere. Sparks, fireworks, mojo, romance. He laps it up like it's fairy dust."

She laughed then, and he knew he didn't have to worry about being slapped on the chest again anymore.

"So he won't object to…us?" she asked hopefully, saying the word as if she were only just getting used to it.

"I doubt it," he answered smilingly. "But I'll have a private word wit' him, d'accord? You let Remy sort dis out."

"D'accord," she returned prettily, before leaning in for a kiss. Remy was inwardly quite pleased with himself for having so skillfully diffused the situation. He didn't remember females being quite this high-maintenance, but the kiss she bestowed him with was well worth the effort.

"By the way," she asked, once they reluctantly pulled away, "Ah was wonderin'. You know that weddin' invitation yah got a few months back?"

Well, that was unexpected. He frowned.

"Yup," he said dubiously.

"From Belle, right?" she asked falteringly, seeing his troubled look.

He nodded. The past few weeks it was something he'd completely forgotten about…

"You thinkin' of goin'?" she quizzed.

The question surprised him. Then, after a moment, he let out a short laugh.

"Why? You t'inkin' of comin' too? So I can show off my gorgeous new girl?"

She grinned cheekily.

"Somethin' like that."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, running his fingers through her hair again. "I dunno… Guess I'll haveta t'ink about it first. T'ing is, Belle's a part of my past I'm not sure I really want to revisit…"

He trailed off and her eyes softened.

"Ah understand," she said.

"I know," he murmured, pulling her down for another kiss. She obliged, then pulled away and slid off the bed.

"Ah'm starvin'," she stated. "Gonna make myself some breakfast. You comin'?"

"I'll be down in a minute," he replied. "But while you're at it, why don't you make me a coffee, chere?"

She stood up, stuck her tongue out at him and sashayed out of the room without another word.

Remy pillowed his arms behind his head to get a better view of her shapely butt before she finally disappeared out of sight.

Yup - if this was a dream, he hoped he never had to wake up again.

-oOo-

Remy emerges from the bedroom much later, while I'm in the kitchen cooking breakfast and humming a bluesy tune to myself. While I'm frying the eggs he steals up behind me with a stealthy silence that would put any ninja to shame. I start only briefly as he wraps his arms round my waist and buries his face against my back. His embrace is too warm, too delicate to startle me for long. I delight in the thrill that his touch sends across my bare skin. It's been too long since I ever felt a touch that tender and loving.

"Did you make my coffee?" he asks huskily in my ear, making the whole mundane sentence sound strangely sexy. I shiver and reply in a thick voice: "S'back there."

He let's go of me, unwrapping his arms slowly from me with the promise of more later. After he grabs his coffee, he hovers over my shoulder again to watch me cooking, pulls a face, and sidles off to the dinner table.

"What?" I ask him, nettled at the disapproving look he'd just cast me.

"You're doin' it all wrong," he throws flippantly over his shoulder, standing over the table and opening up the newspaper. Gawd, that man looks a sight in his tight T-shirt and ripped jeans. It's almost criminal.

"Ah know how t' make French toast, thank yah very much!" I huff, trying not to get too distracted by the sight of those gorgeous Cajun buns of his.

"You gotta dip de bread in de egg first, not fry de eggs together wit' de bread all in one go," he rebukes me playfully. I look down at my handiwork still frying in the pan, wondering what exactly I'm doing wrong. This is how I've always made French toast, goddammit! Irene never complained. Neither did Cody, for that matter!

"Go to hell!" I proclaim at last, feeling strangely defensive since I'm a woman and he's a man, and what the hell does a man know about cooking! Apart from that cute Naked Chef, that is. Remy looks over his shoulder at me and simply shrugs good-naturedly.

"So how come I never get to spend time round your apartment?" he asks casually instead.

"What are yah, blind?" I exclaim in disbelief. "Mah place looks like a bomb shelter! Ain't no way Ah'm gonna let yah hang round mah mess! It's embarrassin'!"

"You seem to clean up after y'self well enough," he notes.

"Yeah, here Ah do," I brood. "It's easy t' be neat an' tidy in other people's houses, but for some reason, Ah can't seem to be the same in mah own." I lower my voice. "Guess Ah just had other things on mah mind than keepin' mah place in order."

"Mebbe I could come round and help you out?" he offers.

"Gee, yeah, 'cos Ah'd just love ta see yah on yah knees and shirtless, scrubbin' out mah oven," I retort sarcastically. "Not that Ah use the stupid thing anyway."

"Was dat comment sarcastic or for real?" he asks, turning to me with an amused smile on his face.

"You wish it was for real," I reply caustically, dishing out the French toast violently onto their plates. Remy simply continues to grin at me, knowing the truth of the matter anyway. Damn that infuriatingly handsome Cajun!

"'Cos y'know, chere…" he continues, unable to let it lie. "Dat whole li'l scenario could be arranged…"

"Save it," I snap before I can change my mind. I swing over to the dining table and place down our breakfasts. Remy looks down at the toast and pulls another face, but says nothing when I shoot him a warning glance. There's nothing for it but for him to sit down with a helpless expression.

I tuck into breakfast and fall into thinking about my pigsty of an apartment. It's something that's been on my mind a lot recently, and I simply can't bear to face it. It's getting to the point where Jean, Emma and Betsy are refusing to step within a ten metre radius of the place, and the thought of bringing Remy there leaves me mortified. But then again, the state the kitchen's in, I figure I'll be needing some male assistance anyway…

I look up at Remy to take him up on his previous offer, and see him munching slowly on his breakfast as if someone had forced him to eat slugs or something.

"What?" I question him, worried. He swallows painfully before answering.

"What did you put in dis?"

Oh, so he's makin' another dig at mah cookin'!

"Duh!" I scowl at him, bristling. "Only what usually goes in French toast!"

He looks down at the food on the plate as if it were about to sprout legs and walk off the table. What the hell is this! I stare down at my plate, but all I see is the same old French toast I've always made.

"Well, mine tastes fine," I say defensively.

"Y' must have a stomach coated wit' lead," he mutters under his breath, thinking I can't hear him. I decide to ignore him and let him get on with it. Stupid male chauvinist pig! I'll teach him to complain about a woman's cooking! If he hates it so much, I'd like to see him cook his own damned dinner once in a while!

By the time we've both finished neither of us have said a word, we're both so out of sorts. Remy looks as if he's ready to clean his mouth out with soap and non-biological detergent for good measure. I simply pick up the plates and bang them into the dishwasher, inwardly fuming at his total lack of appreciation. Ingrate!

Afterwards Remy disappears, no doubt to wash out his mouth, and I plump myself in front of the sofa and switch on the TV. As usual there's absolutely nothing worth watching on a Sunday morning, so I end up idly flipping through the channels anyway. How can there be so many channels and not a single decent thing to watch? Why bother paying for such mindless drivel in the first place?

My mind falls back on Remy, and how he'd somehow managed to entice me back to his apartment and his bed. Which, I might add, we practically hadn't left until this morning. My singular lack of restraint where that man is concerned irritates me no end. It's like all he has to do is smile at me and I succumb to his charms. When I think about how he makes me feel as if I'm the only woman alive on this planet, it makes me wonder how I even managed to hold out against him for all that time in the first place. Perhaps I really am as overwhelmingly stubborn as everyone seems to think I am.

Still, I can't help the feeling that I'd allowed him to have his way with me, (much as I'd enjoyed being the center of his very devoted attention), and I don't like that feeling one little bit.

While I'm ruminating over all this, Remy returns and seats himself on the sofa next to me, slinging his arm round my shoulder like nothing's happened. This only causes me to fume even more. I even start to wonder why I'd so desperately wanted a man in the first place. Stupid men!

We're three minutes into an old rerun of Buffy when he predictably starts angling for something more. First he edges closer, inch by inch, and finally aims for a kiss on my neck. I dodge his lips, so that his kiss lands somewhere on my upper arm. He thinks I'm being playful and aims again. I brush him off with my hand.

"You ain't gettin' no more!" I huff at him.

"Why, what've I done now?" he asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. Geez, are men always this dumb!

"Ugh! Get a clue, Cajun!"

It does the trick. He backs off, but only with a lot of pouting and a lot of reluctance. A minute later he says: "You ain't still mad about breakfast, are you?"

Grrrr…

"Gee, yah think?" I reply sarcastically, arms crossed and glaring at the TV.

"Rogue…" he begins in a pacifying yet entirely unconvincing tone of voice. "Breakfast was…delicious."

"Well, yah could've fooled me!" I snap.

He backs off again, thoroughly chastened. It takes him a grand total of five minutes before he's at it again. Next I feel his arm scaling across the back of the couch, trying to ring my shoulder. By now this is more than I can stand. So I simply leap up from the sofa, leaving him to topple over behind me.

"Right, that's it!" I exclaim, going into the hallway and grabbing at my coat and keys before heading for the front door. He follows me, a look of desperation and confusion on his face.

"Where de hell you goin'?"

"Where does it look like! Home!" I seethe back at him, reaching for the door handle. But he preempts me, pulling my hand away from it and swiveling me round to face him.

"Just what de hell am I s'pposed to have done!" he demands, a little angry as well as bewildered now, but I'm in no mood for sympathy.

"How about bein' a male chauvinist pig?" I shout back at him.

"What, over your cookin'?" He looks half relieved, half like he's about to burst into laughter. I scowl at him.

"Go on, say it! Y'all think mah cookin' sucks, dontcha! Mah cookin' ain't good enough for yah, isn't it!"

"Chere… I already said it, breakfast was fine. We gonna argue about somet'ing as stupid as dis?"

"You insulted mah cookin'!" I shriek, ignoring him.

"Rogue, how many times do I haveta tell y'…"

"…And then y'all cozy up t' meh as if nothin's happened, like Ah was just gonna letcha run rings round meh all over again…!"

"…Honestly, I didn't know you were still mad at me, I t'ought all was forgiven…"

"…Well Ah'd like t' see yah do the cookin' for once, mistah! Who'll be laughin' then, huh!"

"…Rogue, dis is ridiculous, chere…"

I don't care if it is anymore. I jerk open the door, and, with a last shout of goodbye!, I slam it back in his face before he can get another word in.

-xXx-

To be continued...