After Midnight - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Neurotic Temptress
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 15

“So tell me, sugah,” Rogue’s southern drawl floated up from her sitting position in front of him, “how long you plannin’ on standin’ back there all quiet like?”

On any other given day, he would have been proud of her ability to sense his silent presence behind her. But the fact that she didn’t turn around to address him, the fact that she hadn’t even lifted her contemplative gaze from the snapshot in her hand, caused a dozen different alarms to go off in his head. A pensive lover didn’t appear to be any better than a tempestuous one.

He moved to crouch by her feet, resting one hand on the back of the chair and locking his eyes with hers. “Chère, I c’n explain -- ”

“There’s nothin’ to explain,” she brusquely interrupted.

He narrowed his eyes at her tone. It was almost as if...

“Ah trust you.”

... she wasn’t upset?

It took Remy a full minute to digest that revelation, during which the blinking motion of his eyes doubled from its normal pattern. To his knowledge, when a woman discovered a photograph of another woman in her lover’s bedroom, the typical reaction would involve hysterical tears, furious ranting and the occasional projectile object. Rogue, however, was partaking in none of those options. From the composed expression on her face, he would have to say that she was as far from throwing the bed at him as was humanly possible. Still, not yet completely trusting her serene demeanor -- after all, predators had been known to play dead before moving in for the kill -- he continued to stare at her with an air of confusion.

Rogue leaned forward, pressing her index finger to his furrowed brow, and said in all seriousness, “Keep that up an’ yoah face is gonna freeze like that fo’ever.” She cracked a small smile. “Quit lookin’ so shocked, sugah,” she scolded him lightly. “Ah told ya last night that Ah believed in you. Whatevah this is,” she indicated the picture still in her hand, “Ah’m sure there’s a reason fo’ it.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet, pulling her along with him. Without releasing her gaze, he took the photo from her and returned it to the folder on the desk.

“All right, petite, who are ya an’ what have you done wit’ Rogue?” His tone was saturated with underlying mirth. “My Rogue would be on her seventh hissy fit by now, wit’ de temper on dat girl.”

“So yoah sayin’ you’d feel better if Ah’d smash this desk ovah yoah head first?” she asked him sweetly. “’Cause Ah can do that, if ya want.”

He grinned. He loved her playful spirit. It brought along with it the cure to the tension that had unknowingly crept into his bones. With practiced ease, he twirled them around so that he landed soundly onto the chair, with Rogue securely on top of his lap. He reached over and began spreading the contents of the folder onto the surface of the desk.

“Rogue, you ‘member de last time you were here in Nawlins?” he asked when he was finished. He noticed that she had kept her eyes on him while he worked, never once glancing at the material before them. “You ‘member what I said t’you?”

She nodded, recalling the day in the parlor when he’d told her the allegations against him weren’t true. She had believed him then, trusting in his word without asking for proof. However, her faith in him was shaken that day in Los Angeles, when it was revealed that the baby was indeed his. It had been a difficult thing for her to come to terms with, but she’d done it. She’d realized how important Remy was to her and she was not about to give him up, not that easily. She wasn’t too excited to hear about the night the baby was conceived, but if it was a hurdle she’d have to jump over in order to be with Remy, then she would willingly endure it -- even if it killed her.

Taking a deep breath, she answered shakily, “Ah remember.”

He saw the hesitant fear in her eyes, as if she were steeling herself against what he was about to tell her. “’Splained t’you dat I wasn’ feelin’ like m’self dat night. Dat me an’ de boys had been drinkin’ some before gettin’ t’de hotel.”

Again, she nodded, although he hadn’t really asked a question. She could feel her gut twist in anticipation, dreading the imminent confession of infidelity.

“But not’in’ happened, chèrie,” he told her quietly. “I didn’ sleep wit’ her.”

It seemed to take forever for the words to register in her mind. Once they did, her head shot up and her gaze locked onto his. She searched his eyes for some sign of deception or concealment of the truth, but all that reflected back to her was pure and naked honesty.

“You didn’ lie ta me,” she whispered in amazement, tracing the outline of his jaw with a fingertip. “Ev’rythin’ ya told me back then was true.”

It was his turn to nod.

“An’ Ah didn’ believe you,” she continued, ashamed of doubting him for a time. Gathering his hands in her own, she brushed her lips against his knuckles. “Ah’m sorry, Remy.” Suddenly, she lifted her eyes in confusion. “But... but th’ tests... they say yoah th’ father.”

“Dey’re wrong.”

”But how can that be? Ah called th’ lab an’ talked ta Dr. MacTaggert -- ” She stopped, a thought suddenly striking her. “Someone’s settin’ you up?”

Again Remy nodded, motioning to the file on the desk. For the first time, Rogue looked over the papers, taking in the numerous pictures, bank statements, hospital records and other documents that were included.

“Yoah stalkin’ this woman?”

“Not me,” he replied. “Soon as I got served de paternity papers, I hired a private investigator t’follow her ‘round, see what she was playin’ at. We were hopin’ she’d meet up wit’ de real father sometime but she’s been pretty quiet, keepin’ t’herself mostly.” He pulled out a few of the medical papers. “She makes regular visits t’her doctor, alone or wit’ one o’ her girlfriends. Baby’s doin’ good: strong heartbeat, healthy.”

“Nothin’ suspicious?”

“Jus’ dis.” He showed her the bank statements. “Ev’ry two weeks, a certain chunk o’ change gets deposited inta her account. Like clockwork.”

“She’s got herself a sugah daddy,” Rogue acknowledged, scanning the pages. “Yoah P.I. can’t find out who’s doin’ th’ depositin’?”

“Anonymous transfers, dere’s no way o’ knowin’. Other dan dat, looks like any other woman goin’ t’rough a normal pregnancy.”

“’Cept that she’s tryin’ ta pin you as th’ father.”

“Oui, ‘cept f’r dat.”

“Must be yoah charmin’ personality an’ dashin’ good looks. Try bein’ a li’l less irresistible fo’ a change, sugah.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Ya makin’ jokes ‘bout dis, chère?”

“It’s either that, or make mahself insane tryin’ ta figure out why she’s doin’ all this. Seems like an awful lot o’ trouble jus’ ta ensure that her baby’s taken cared of.” She turned to him fully. “So what happens now? With th’ lawsuit an ev’rything?”

His arms tightened around her lower back. “Been ordered t’pay child s’pport f’r de baby.”

“Even though it’s not yoahs.”

“De courts have no way o’ knowin’ dat. De test results say dat ‘m de father an’ dat’s what dey’re goin’ wit’.”

She lowered her gaze to the base of his throat, almost as if she were scared of her next question. “What about... th’ othah suit? Th’ one that Matt mentioned before?”

“De statutory rape? Dey’re workin’ on it,” he replied shortly.

She was instantly alert. “What does that mean?” she asked anxiously. “They’re not actu’lly gonna charge you with it, are they?”

“Chère, dey’re jus’ doin’ deir jobs. Far as dey’re concerned, I slept wit’ a minor an’ got her pregnant.”

“But they’re wrong!” she insisted. “Why are you takin’ this so calmly, Remy? Didn’ Matt say somethin’ ‘bout time in jail if a judge evah found ya guilty o’ statutory rape?”

He nodded solemnly. “Five years. Minimum.”

“Five years? Five years?! Remy, that’s insane! We can’t jus’ let them do this! We have ta do somethin’! Five years is a long time. What’ll happen if they send ya ta prison? What‘ll happen ta yoah career? What’ll happen ta -- ”

“Rogue!” He grabbed her wrists and shook her slightly, commanding her attention and jolting her out of her hysteria. “Calm down, chère. Ev’ryt’in’s gon’ be okay,” he soothed.

“Ya don’ know that, Remy,” she whispered, his voice quieting her considerably. “Ya won’t be able ta charm yoah way out o’ this one.”

“I got people workin’ on dis,” he assured her. “We’ll catch her at her own game.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple, belle.” He moved his hands up to stroke her arms lovingly. “No worries.”

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing herself as close to him as possible. “Ah can’t lose you, Remy.”

It was all he could do to stop the shiver that threatened to ripple throughout his system. Her voice had been as quiet as death, and yet it couldn’t have been any more powerful had she shouted it directly into his ear.

He wished he could have been as certain as he sounded, but the truth of the matter was that he was just as uneasy as she. Discovering that the test results were positive, and that someone was trying to set him up, was a rather nasty shock. But attempting to uncover evidence to establish his innocence was proving to be the real outrage. Every turn he made seemed to bring him right back to where he started: between a rock and an even bigger rock. There was no way he could simply announce to the public that he was innocent of the accusations; the test results would make a lie of such a claim. And although a second paternity test was being ordered, it would certainly prove just as fruitless as a public announcement. No doubt whoever had manipulated the first test would find a way to do the same to the next.

His only hope at this point was catching Genevieve in her lie, obtaining some kind of proof that the baby she was carrying was fathered by another man. However, after two months of careful surveillance, his private investigator hadn’t been able to come up with so much as a traffic violation, much less evidence of a conspiracy against him. Only the scheduled deposits into her bank account seemed suspicious, but even those could have been explained off as the generosity of a wealthy friend or relative.

As it was, his situation didn’t appear to be as optimistic as he would have liked. He stood a very real chance of being convicted of statutory rape and sentenced to time in prison. But he didn’t want to worry Rogue with that fact. If there was even a glimmer of hope that he could prevail, he would press on. Surrendering in defeat would never be an option for him.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly as he felt the first of her tears hit his bare shoulder. He pulled back slightly and cradled her face in his hands. “No cryin’, mignonne. It’ll be all right... I promise. You said ya trusted me, didn’ ya?” She nodded slightly against his hands. “Bien. Den dere’s not’in’ f’r you t’worry ‘bout. ‘Sides,” he added with a teasing smile, “you’ll ruin m’good shirt if ya keep dat up.”

In response, she hit him lightly on the arm. As he retaliated with a hurt-puppy-dog look, she retorted, “Crazy Cajun.”

“Careful wit’ ya words, chère,” he chided playfully. “Ya f’rgettin’ where ya are.”

“Right... Cajun country.”

He slid his hand down the deep, open neckline to her collarbone, taking in the delicious warmth of her naked skin. “C’mon, mon amant, let’s see a smile.”

With more confidence than she actually felt, she obliged her lover’s request and smiled at him brilliantly. If he could be upbeat about their situation, then so could she.

He grinned at her in return, and then ducked his head beneath her chin to place his mouth where his hand had been. As he inhaled, he caught the scent of his own cologne lingering on her skin, rich and spicy. It was incredibly alluring, and some primal male instinct within him grunted in satisfaction. She was his. In much the same way as he was hers.

“Only problem we have now, chèrie,” he murmured against her throat, “is who gets which side o’ de bed.”

She pushed him back so that she could look at him fully. “Ah am not movin’ in here,” she declared firmly.

“An’ why not, pray tell?”

“Sugah, it’s one thing ta be movin’ inta yoah fam’ly’s house fo’ a while, but Ah ain’t gonna move inta yoah bedroom. What would yoah daddy say?”

“Chère, you gettin’ modest on me now? You don’ t’ink Poppa -- or ev’rybody else f’r dat matter -- knows what we do up here when we lock de door an’ don’ come out f’r days on end?”

“No... Ah mean, Ah know, but still... Ah’d feel better stayin’ in one o’ th’ guestrooms.”

“Ya kiddin’ me, right?” He watched her shake her head. “Ya serious?”

“Yup.”

“Chère, you’ll be spendin’ most o’ ya time here anyway. Why bother wit’ de pretense o’ havin’ ya own room an’ all de trouble o’ crossin’ de hallway at night?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You sound mighty sure o’ yoahself, Mr. LeBeau, that that is actu’lly gonna be happenin’ ev’ry night.”

He raised his own eyebrow at her. “It’s not?” he challenged. They stared off for a few moments until he looked away, shrugging. “’Sides ya can’ move inta de guestrooms. Dey’re all occupied.”

“Oh, really?” she asked sarcastically. The LeBeau family home was a mansion with acres of land surrounding it. The idea of it being filled to capacity, with no room to spare, was like filling an ocean with an eyedropper. “By whom, may Ah ask?”

“Well, let’s see... dere’s Logan, an’ Guido, an’ de rest o’ ya security. Plus all m’relatives.”

“Yoah relatives?” she repeated incredulously. “An’ when exactly will they get here?”

“Soon as I call dem an’ tell dem dat dey’re stayin’ here f’r a while.” She swatted at him again as a devilish grin appeared on his features. “Seriously t’ough, chèrie,” he slipped his hands down to caress her hips, “you gon’ make me beg?”

She sighed loudly. “Yoah not gonna give up ‘til ya get yoah way, are ya?”

“Not likely, no.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled in close to him. “You better be worth it, sugah.”

“Care t’test de merchandise first, madame?” he teased, drawing her into a deep kiss. He almost laughed when he felt her mold her body even tighter into his.

Moaning against his mouth before pulling away, she mumbled, “Remy, Ah’m hungry.”

He grunted throatily. “So am I, belle.”

She nearly giggled as he readjusted her on his lap and moved in to regain access to her neck. The kisses he was feathering along her skin were distracting her terribly from her original train of thought. She mentally shook herself and tried again. “No, Remy... Ah mean, Ah’m really hungry. It’s almost breakfast an’ Ah need food.” As if in agreement, her stomach grumbled loudly. She grinned sheepishly at him. “We didn’ get a chance ta eat anythin’ last night.”

Smirking, he quipped, “Not m’fault, chère. You were de one dat took advantage o’ innocent li’l me.”

She gawked at him with indignation. “Ah beg ta differ!”

“Non? Who was de one dat climbed inta whose bed? Who was de one dat kissed whom first? Who was de one dat crawled on top o’ whom?”

“Okay, so maybe Ah did a little,” she laughed, moving in for another kiss. Another protesting grumble emanated from her stomach.

Reluctantly, Remy drew away from her. “Better feed ya, petite, before ya belly takes you alive.”

He put down the pen and closed the notebook he had been writing in, smiling in satisfaction at the work he had completed. Everything was going according to plan, falling into place perfectly. And it wouldn’t be long until he reached his final goal.

“Soon, my love,” he whispered to the photograph tacked onto the wall. A woman with white-striped hair and clear green eyes smiled back at him. “Very, very soon.”