Part 6 of 7

He hunches his shoulders, feels a hot wind blowing through his body, and mutters, "Yes, I have."

She sits back, looks at him, "You have? When?"

He hears this calm question with gratitude. She's throwing him a life-line and it just might save his actual life! He waves an imploring hand, "All the time, here at work, out on cases, in town. I listen, I try to 'lime', I spend evenings at La Kaz just to be near you. I depend on you so much for companionship, you have no idea. And…" he dekes nervous eyes to her, "… I'm here right now, feeling my way through this minefield, trying to understand. I really want to understand…" He sees her blank look and groans, "And I'm doing it again, aren't I? I'm wandering off course, getting away from the subject."

Her eyebrows shift, "Subject?"

Now he sits up with sudden determination, "Yes! The subject of you and me. Of us." He gives her a stern look, "Your mother, did she or did she not give you hell for wasting time on Mr. King?"

Camille's eyes drop immediately to the table before she coughs out, "Yes, she did." It almost sounds like a laugh but this escapes his notice as he's following the clues now.

He nods, "Mmm-hmm, and did she or did she not tell you to concentrate on someone else?"

Her eyes slide to his then away, "I didn't think your French was that good."

He crosses his arms, huffs, "It isn't, Dwayne and Fidel translated for me. It's a good thing they were both here when your mother arrived."

She whispers, "Yes, wasn't it?" then sighs, "So they know my secret, do they?"

"Well, maybe, I'm not sure, but if they know, and your mother knows, and YOU know, why don't I?" He fixes her with an earnest stare, "What don't I know, Camille? What's the big secret that everyone's keeping that I need to know?"

She bites her lip, eyes darting here and there but everywhere except where they really want to be, "The secret? The big secret? Um…" He gestures impatiently and she lays her head down onto her crossed arms, "Oh! Why can't I just say it? No other man confuses me like you do! You're nice to me and I love you. You yell at me and I hate you. You show me your human side and I love you. You go all English on me and I hate you. And always… always… your smile, your eyes, your…" Her hand wafts up and down at him as if it means something. But it doesn't. Not to him.

He looks down at himself, "My… what? My suit? What about my suit?"

She grinds her forehead into her hands and moans, "No, not your bloody suit!" She makes the hand gesture again but it remains as foreign as before.

He frowns, "I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

Now she sits up, back stiff, shoulders taut, tensing both hands down onto the table and alarming him. "YOU!" she growls, "It's YOU! Your physical attributes, your…" She holds her hands up, palms facing one another, bobs them then glides them down in a smooth arc, outlining a shape that means nothing to him then throws herself back down onto the table, moaning, "Oh, I've never wanted a man like this. I can't sleep. I can't eat. Nothing is fun anymore. All I do is come to work and pine away all day then go home to pine all evening then go to sleep and dream all night. It's awful! So when Samuel King…" She stops. There is a hand on hers and it isn't hesitant at all.

He has leveled his laser-stare at her, the one she sees when he's grilling suspects and homing in on murderers. She gulps. For all the maneuvering, flirting, sass, and vain attempts to get his attention, it could all come down to this single moment. She isn't sure what he will say next but, one way or another, her torment might end. She will finally know the truth about him and the pain will finally stop.

She stills and prepares herself for the worst… while simultaneously praying for the best.

END – part 6