When Will I See You Again (15 page)

“Well, just that you were brought down for questioning.

Something about a…murder…last night. I was worried about you so I came right away to see what I could do. What can I do to help, Raoul?”

“Nothing. I’m in good hands.” Raoul swept a dismissive arm in Alexx’s direction. Foster looked directly at him for the first time.

“Ah, the junior reporter.” He forced a chuckle, but Alexx heard no mirth in the sound. “Still working on your story for the society page?”

“I’m not working on—”

“He’s working on this story now,” Raoul smoothly interrupted.

“I’m giving him an exclusive.”

“An exclusive?” A perplexed frown drew Foster’s brows together. “But…I don’t understand. Isn’t that Price’s arena? No offense,” he tacked on, almost as an afterthought.

“None taken,” Alexx replied through gritted teeth. For some reason, Foster was rubbing him the wrong way today. He’d been so nice at Charisma. Had he taken a sudden dislike to him? Or was he angry that Alexx was in Raoul’s company, a place he obviously wished to occupy.

“Price? That pompous popinjay?” Raoul snorted. “I wouldn’t let him write a story about my grandmother’s prize petunias. If I had a grandmother. And if she had prize petunias.”

“I know you don’t care for him personally, but he’s a fine journalist—”
Raoul interrupted again. “That doesn’t matter. I’ve already told Alexx the story is his. I won’t talk to anyone else, so you can tell your father not to bother, assuming you had something else in mind. And I do not need any help. Thank you.”

Alexx watched Foster fight some sort of internal battle. His stomach clenched at the thought that despite Raoul’s words, all Foster had to do was put in a call to his father, and Alexx would probably be thrown back into the mail room and never allowed to write for the newspaper again. Even that consideration took second place to his other fear—that if he didn’t cover this story, he’d never have the chance, or the excuse, or the God-given opportunity to spend time with Raoul Marchand ever again. And that very idea was one he could not bear.

“Of course, of course.” Foster hastily backed down, reaching out a hand as if to pat Raoul reassuringly. Raoul easily dodged his touch, making no attempt to disguise it as anything other than rejection. He turned to Alexx.

“You hungry? I know I am.”

Baffled at the sudden change in subject, Alexx automatically said, “I could eat.”

“Bring your notebook. We’ll go down the street. There’s a café I know that serves good food. We can talk there. You like sandwiches, don’t you?”

“Love them,” Alexx assured him. He dared a glance at Foster.

His face seemed more than a bit red, and he seemed at least a little peeved. Alexx wondered if that was because there’d been no invitation extended to him. He hoped that he wouldn’t simply put it on himself to accompany them anyway.

Foster took a step toward Raoul, but the other man had already left him behind. He approached a uniformed officer at the front
desk, who glanced up at him as he neared.

“Hi, Raoul.”

“Hello, Harry. Tell Jon we went to lunch and just text me when the papers are ready. All right?”

“Sure, I’ll tell him. Have a good one.”

“Thanks. We will.” With a satisfied nod, Raoul turned to Alexx. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved.” He put his arm about Alexx’s shoulders, guiding him toward the door, as if brooking no argument. Not that Alexx was about to argue at being touched by Raoul Marchand.

“Does this mean they’re not charging you?” Foster quickly asked. He’d hurried after them to the door, one hand catching it just as they were about to exit. Raoul turned in the doorway. His eyes were hooded and enigmatic. He glanced at the intrusive hand and Foster hastily removed it.

“This means that I am hungry,” he stated simply, before he hustled Alexx through the door.

“Do we need to get the car?” Alexx asked.

“No, we’ll walk. It’s just down there.” He pointed down the sidewalk, as they fell into step together. There were few people about at this hour. What time was it? Alexx wondered, sneaking a look at his watch. Too late for breakfast, a little early for lunch. At least there wouldn’t be a crowd.

“Just down there” turned out to be a three-block walk. The Moonbeam Café was nestled among its neighbors in the lower rent business district of Crescent Bay. From the outside, it wasn’t anything special. Clean but old, like a hand-me-down that had definitely seen better days. The interior was little better, but Alexx instinctively liked it. It felt right to him. Comfortable.

A tall woman with long silver-gray hair that curled to her
shoulders stepped forward to greet them. She wore an assortment of gaily colored bracelets on each arm and she jangled when she moved. They complimented her lavender layered skirts that fell to the floor, and were mirrored by smaller versions that decorated her ears.

“Raoul! What a surprise!” She enveloped him in a warm embrace. Alexx noticed he made no move to stop her, nor did he seem to object to her familiarity. She looked at Alexx with more than a little curiosity. He squirmed under her scrutiny. “And who have we here?”

“Nadine, this is Alexx. Alexx, this is my cousin Nadine.”

Cousin? Alexx certainly hadn’t expected that.

“A few times removed.” Nadine laughed. When Alexx held out his hand and murmured, “How do you do?” she swept him into her arms instead and hugged him. He found that she smelled of musk and garlic and tomato sauce, a not unpleasant combination. “Glad to meet you, Alexx. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

She raised inquisitive eyes to Raoul.

“Right now, food. I’m starving and I’m not used to being up so early,” he groused.

“I wondered about that.” She laughed. “I’ll get you something to eat and then you can tell me what’s going on. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed.

Alexx was amazed at the change in him. He’d gone from surly and unhappy to being rather respectful and polite. All in the space of a few minutes. Definite food for thought, but if it was because of his cousin’s influence, then he was certainly all for it.

“Is the patio open yet?”

“No, but I’ll open it just for you. C’mon.” She lifted her skirts as she threaded her way between the white wooden round tables
that populated the inside of the café. Alexx noticed she made no move to pick up menus. He presumed Raoul knew his own favorites—he’d just go with that.

White double doors with brass handles sat behind a standing sign that read
Closed
. Moving around the sign, she plucked a key from a pocket of her skirts, and opened one door, motioning them outside. There they found white wrought iron tables with glass tops beneath peach umbrellas. The patio itself was paved in pale brick, and was boxed in by a terraced garden containing a multitude of blossoms that swayed gracefully in the slight breeze.

“Pick a table. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Bring a pitcher of beer with that, will you, Nadine?” Raoul requested. She made no reply, disappearing through the doors and into the café.

Alexx stood uncertainly, waiting to see what Raoul would do.

When he selected a table close to the flowers and dropped into one of the chairs, Alexx followed suit, sitting as close to him as he dared without being too obvious. If Raoul questioned him, he’d simply say that it would make it easier to take notes, although that had nothing to do with his desire to be close to the other man.

They sat for a few minutes in contented silence. The only sounds that of the passing traffic, heard but unseen on the other side of a white picket fence that separated the patio from the street.

A songbird that sat in a tree above their heads and offered them his serenade.

There were so many questions Alexx wanted to ask, so many facts he needed to uncover to lay a proper basis for his story. Hell, he hadn’t even thought to ask for any information on the deceased, not even his last name. What sort of journalism was that? He’d have to rectify that when they returned to the police station.
But the only question that pushed its way past his lips was, “Are you all right?”

Raoul looked surprised at the question. Alexx was surprised too, but it was the one concern that was uppermost in his mind at the moment and he had to voice it. He met Raoul’s gaze with his own, and swallowed.

“I’m innocent,” Raoul said simply. “Why wouldn’t I be fine? I have nothing to hide.”

“I know, but last night…That was rough on you, it had to be.

You were knifed. Regardless of the fact that you heal quickly,” he added, before Raoul could remind him of his lycan healing abilities. “You were hauled in to the police station without warning, and then you found out your lover was dead…” He stumbled over the word, but thought that his slight hesitation didn’t show. Especially when Raoul immediately disclaimed it.

“Not lover,” he growled. “I barely knew him. I
didn’t
know him. Except in the Biblical sense.”

“Well, okay, but you… Yeah, I mean…”

“I fucked him. You can say it. Say it with me. I fucked him.

Nothing more.”

Alexx flushed, but he didn’t bother to repeat the words, although he derived a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that the dead man meant nothing to Raoul. He couldn’t help but think that if the guy had to die, he was lucky that his last fuck was Raoul Marchand, but he kept the idea to himself as being more than a little morbid.

“I’ll tell you what I am, Alexx Jameson. I’m up far too early and I’m hungry. I don’t want to talk about death right now. Tell me something about yourself. Who are you and how did you end up in Crescent Bay? I know you weren’t born here.”
Of course Raoul would realize that. This was a town where everyone knew everyone else, and outsiders stuck out like sore thumbs. Except for the tourists. They stood out in their own special way. He absentmindedly nibbled at the tip of his own thumb, until his hand was unceremoniously slapped away from his mouth. He gaped at Raoul in surprise.

“Don’t do that. It’s a nasty habit,” Raoul commented.

“There are worse.”

“True, but I’d rather you didn’t. Please go on. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Tell me about you.”

“Well, there isn’t a lot to tell.” Raoul leaned forward, scooting his chair closer to Alexx. His proximity was doing things to Alexx, things he’d rather not be known. He squirmed in his chair, and tried to concentrate on how very badly he wanted Raoul to fuck him. Whoever said that virgins didn’t have impure thoughts was totally off base. He found that ever since he hit puberty, ninety percent of his thoughts were of the X-rated variety.

Focus, Alexx, on something that isn’t Raoul’s cock.

He ran his hand through his hair, riveting his attention on his silverware setting. He unwound the linen napkin from about his cutlery, and placed it just so, until a soft growl drew his attention back to the question. “I can’t tell you much about my family. My mom died having me, and I don’t know who my dad is. All she ever gave me was my name.” He shrugged.

He paused, expecting to hear the usual tea and sympathy.

That’s why he generally didn’t like to talk about himself, or his life. People assumed he’d endured some sort of Oliver Twist upbringing, but that wasn’t how it was at all.

“You were adopted?”

Raoul’s voice was matter-of-fact, for which Alexx was
grateful. He glanced up to find his beautiful gray eyes focused on him intently.

“No, I never was. I stayed in the orphanage until I graduated from high school. Then I moved to Crescent Bay.”

“Why Crescent Bay? Do you know people here?”

“No.” He bit at his lower lip thoughtfully, then admitted, “I flipped a coin over a map of the state. It fell on Crescent Bay.”

Raoul grunted, but Alexx thought he heard amusement in the sound, rather than censure.

“College?”

Alexx shook his head. “No, I never went. I knew what I wanted to do, and I didn’t want to take the time.”

“Just what is it that you want to do?” Raoul was even closer now, so close that Alexx could see that his nose, rather than being perfectly aquiline, had a slight imperfection, as though at some point it had been broken. He thought it only made the man all the more beautiful.

“I want to be a homicide reporter,” Alexx blurted out.

Raoul gave a short laugh. “You know, just a few days ago, I would’ve said you wouldn’t find much to report on here in Crescent Bay. But that’s changed, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it has.” Alexx ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes focused on Raoul and his shifting proximity. He held his breath, afraid to do what his heart dictated and his body demanded.

Go on and kiss him.
That was his libido talking. The one he was afraid would get him into big trouble. And still he parted his lips, as if in expectation.

Raoul moved closer still, and now their lips were mere micrometers apart, and Alexx’s cock was growing steadily harder, straining against his pants. He moaned softly, unable to help
himself, just as he felt Raoul’s lips brush over his.

At that unfortunate moment, the door to the restaurant opened, and Raoul slid back into his seat. Alexx forced himself to breathe, so frustrated he could cry.

A young girl in a bright blue dress carried a large tray balanced in one hand, in the other was a stand. She nimbly set up the small stand, one-handed, then set the tray on it, as she transferred the dishes it contained onto their table. Alexx gaped at the vast array of food spread out before them. Sandwiches, onion rings, salad, and fresh fruit. All of this for the two of them? There was enough to feed a small army and still have leftovers.