When Will I See You Again (22 page)

Raoul returned just as Alexx finished dressing. He turned back and forth before the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door, uncertainly checking his appearance. Glancing up at Raoul’s entrance, he read the open admiration in his lover’s eyes. He basked in the aura that spread between them, feeling more at ease with him than ever.

Crossing the room, Raoul pulled a handheld dryer from a dresser drawer. Nudging the switch with his thumb, he aimed it
across his long dark hair, at the same time perusing the contents of his closet. Alexx watched as he selected and discarded several jackets, finally settling on a black one of lightweight wool, with matching pants, and a white shirt with silver threads running through it. He dressed quickly, then brushed his newly dried hair until it shone, tying the top part away from his face and leaving most of it free. The unrestrained dark tresses fell down his back, reaching almost to his ass.

“I love your hair,” Alexx commented. He sat on the bed, watching the entire process, amazed at how quickly Raoul did everything. Well, almost everything. He was definitely not too fast when it came to making love.

“Thank you.” Raoul turned from the mirror, where he’d been critically surveying himself. “I’m lucky. It grows fast and it grows thick.”

“Should we stop on the way?” Alexx stood. He smoothed out his clothes, mindful of the crease in the trousers.

“For what? Is there something you need?”

“I was just thinking maybe we could pick up something for your parents. You know, for having us to dinner?”

Raoul gave him an inscrutable look, and for a moment Alexx thought maybe he’d said something wrong, until Raoul spoke again. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. A bottle of wine or something? Flowers for your mother?”

A small smile tugged at Raoul’s lips. “She’d like that, yes.

Very well. Wine and flowers it is, Sir Lancelot.”

Alexx’s red eyebrows quirked. “Sir Lancelot?”

“You are a very gallant knight, very chivalrous.” Raoul took one last approving look at Alexx and his wardrobe. “Shall we go
then? Before we’re unable to?”

True to Raoul’s word, they made a brief stop at a high-end supermarket along the way. Alexx couldn’t help but notice the looks that the staff, as well as other shoppers, cast toward Raoul.

Alexx didn’t blame them—Raoul attracted attention wherever he went. They picked up a bottle of white wine, one that Raoul selected, and a small but tasteful bouquet of mini-carnations in red, apricot, and pale purple hues. When Alexx insisted on paying for their purchases, Raoul refused. Alexx stood his ground. He told him that he could carry his own weight and he would not be less than equal to Raoul. They compromised in the end—Raoul paid for the wine, Alexx the flowers. Each came away satisfied with the bargain he’d made.

“My mother will enjoy those more coming from you.” Raoul held the wrapped bouquet on his lap. The wine was in a chilling bag at his feet.

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ll see,” was all that Alexx could get out of him.

Petit Croissant was an elegant restaurant located in the heart of Crescent Bay. It boasted a chef who’d once served in a two star Michelin establishment, as Raoul informed him—a chef who also happened to be his godmother. In the two years he’d lived in Crescent Bay, Alexx had been aware of the restaurant, but he’d never had the necessary cash to step inside the doors. He’d always assumed that it was meant for the wealthy tourist trade, but Raoul set him straight on that score. Apparently it was a popular gathering place for many of the locals as well.

The restaurant sat at the end of a long row of diverse businesses, and boasted its own uniformed valet service for the benefit of the patrons. Alexx thought the outside of the aged-brick
structure was nice looking, but once they’d turned the car over to the parking attendant—with strict instructions from Raoul regarding the condition he expected his vehicle to be returned in, and an admonition that he didn’t want to see any extra miles on the odometer, his words accompanied by a low warning growl—and they stepped inside the building, he began to entertain serious doubts as to just how well he fit in with the décor.

He’d never been in such an elegant place in all his life.

Chandeliers trailing crystal tears sparkled and gleamed from the high ceilings. Dark wood wainscoting rode halfway up the walls, above that a sea of flocked wallpaper in rich greens and gold and burgundy. Iron wall sconces added to the ambience while on the tables candles flickered. The tables were set at respectable distances from one another, allowing the impression of intimacy and privacy. Waiters in white shirts, black vests and pants, glided between the patrons, bearing large oval trays loaded with an assortment of dishes. Classical music played discreetly in the background.

A middle-aged man with an erect carriage and an air of dignity stepped forward to greet them. “Good to see you, Raoul.” The two men shook hands. “It’s been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence.” Alexx wondered at the words, until he caught the grin on the maître d’s face, and realized he was ribbing Raoul.

“You know how it is when you’ve got a business to run,”

Raoul joked.

“I wouldn’t know. I work for a living, remember?”

“I assume they are waiting for us?”

“They are indeed.” His eyes flickered curiously to Alexx.

“Introduction, Raoul?”

“Certainly. Allow me to present Alexx Jameson. Alexx, this is
the family retainer, Cavanaugh Whittaker.”

“Very funny.” The other man snorted. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. That’s good. I think you’re going to need it.

Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting too long.”

Alexx tried not to gawk, but everything was so beautiful and so very elegant that he felt outclassed all the way around. Raoul held his hand, which helped, and squeezed it reassuringly as they followed the maître d’. Alexx noticed the abundance of live plants.

Not the plastic variety that lesser establishments favored, but the kind that probably required its own staff to take care of. Large urns filled with exotic greenery he couldn’t identify sat in discreet nooks. Hanging plants with variegated fronds edged the dining area, and vases with delicate pale blossoms dotted the tables.

This is so romantic
.
I wish I could afford to bring Raoul here.

He meant what he’d said—he wanted to be on an equal basis with Raoul. He didn’t want to be someone who took from him simply because the other man had more to offer in the way of wealth. That was not the man that Alexx wished to be.

Not surprisingly, people recognized and greeted Raoul as he passed by their tables. Alexx sensed Raoul’s annoyance, and his reluctance to stop, but he gave no outward sign that he was displeased. He responded pleasantly to each and every one.

Including his godfather, the chief of police. The older man sat alone at a table. He flashed Raoul a sympathetic grin.

“Cheer up, Raoul, things could be worse. It’s better than an electronic ankle bracelet, don’t you think?” Chief Drummond winked at both of them.

“You’re not joining us?”

The policeman shook his head. “Maybe for dessert. Besides, I think a little family moment is in order, you know?”
Raoul made no response. His grip on Alexx’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Nice seeing you again,” Alexx commented just before he ran into Raoul’s backside. Raoul had stopped unexpectedly at a table not too far from his godfather’s. Momentarily thrown for a loop, Alexx wondered why the sudden stop before he realized this was it, they’d arrived at the table where Raoul’s parents waited for them. He cast a quick glance at his suit, hoping it was good enough. Of course it was, Raoul had picked it out personally.

Still, he worried. Was
he
good enough?

He recognized Philippe Marchand from their previous encounter. Raoul’s father wore what was undoubtedly a custom tailored gray suit, with an elegant watered silk cream vest and a maroon tie. He rose just as Alexx bumped into Raoul, the corner of his mouth tilting up just enough to show bemusement.

“Good evening,” he greeted them. “Glad you could make it.”

“Did we have a choice?” Raoul didn’t wait for a response.

Setting the bottle of wine he’d been carrying in front of Philippe, he rounded the table to greet the woman on his father’s right hand.

She rose at his approach and pulled him into a warm hug.

“Mother,” he murmured. “I’d like you to meet Alexx Jameson.”

Eleanor Marchand turned toward Alexx as Raoul stepped slightly back. Alexx took a step toward the elegant woman. She was beautiful. No wonder Raoul had gotten so many good-looking genes. With these two as parents, he’d managed to stack the biological deck rather nicely in his favor. She had thick auburn tresses that flowed simply down to her shoulders, and rich hazel eyes that radiated warmth and a kindly disposition.

“Alexx, I’m very pleased to meet you.” Almost belatedly, he
remembered the bouquet in his hand, and held it out to her. “For me?” Alexx nodded. Were those tears in her eyes? He couldn’t be sure, for the next moment they were gone, and he was unsure they’d ever been there to begin with.

“How thoughtful of you, Alexx. Thank you.” She held the arrangement to her nose and inhaled, looking over the top of them toward her husband. He seemed pleased by the gesture as well and Alexx pinked.

Remembering his manners, Alexx offered his hand, but Raoul’s mother surprised him by embracing him instead. She smelled of vanilla and orange blossoms, a pleasant combination.

“Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Marchand,” he began, but she shook her head.

“Eleanor,” she insisted. “Please, have a seat, Alexx. Do you mind if I call you Alexx?”

“Of course not.” Warmth suffused him at the welcome in her voice, and he relaxed slightly. Unsure which chair he should take, he glanced to Raoul for guidance, but Raoul made the decision easy for him. He pulled out the chair directly across from his mother—Alexx slid into it gratefully. Raoul bent down and brushed his lips across Alexx’s cheek, his action producing a familiar tingle, and for just a moment Alexx quite forgot where he was as their eyes locked and Raoul smiled at him reassuringly, before he took the seat opposite his father.

Alexx assumed he’d lose the security of Raoul’s touch now, here in the presence of his parents, but his lover never relinquished Alexx’s hand, placing their joined grip on the table between them, in plain sight, defying anyone to comment. No one did.

“Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Raoul casually commented. He leaned back in his chair, nonchalantly surveying
his surroundings.

Alexx wasn’t fooled by his studied air of indifference. He felt a restlessness in the other man that communicated itself through the medium of his hand. Alexx squeezed it, offering his reassurance, and was rewarded with another beautiful smile.

“I took the liberty of ordering. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Afraid we wouldn’t be on time?”

“Never crossed my mind.” Philippe Marchand raised one hand and instantly a well-dressed man appeared.

“Yes, Mr. Marchand?”

“Will you serve the prosecco now, please, Martin? And set this to chill, will you? We’ll have it with dinner.”

“Yes, Mr. Marchand, right away.” He took the bottle of wine, nodded, and turned away. Mere moments later, a chilled ice bucket made its appearance. The sommelier expertly removed the cork with a contained pop, and poured the first taste for the restaurant owner. Taking a sip, he nodded, and all four glasses were filled with the sparkling wine, the bottle set back into the ice. The man clicked his heels in a formal fashion and then he was gone.

“Mind if I ask what’s on the menu?”

“One of your favorites, Raoul,” Eleanor responded.

“Chateaubriand. That’s what necessitated ordering in advance, of course.”

“Of course.”

Alexx wasn’t sure what chateaubriand was or why it had to be ordered ahead of time, but he didn’t question it, trusting Raoul’s taste. He was too busy with the glass that sat in front of him. He wasn’t sure what prosecco was, but judging by the size and shape of the glass, he figured it must be some sort of wine.

He reached for his glass and started to raise it to his lips for an
experimental taste, until two facts presented themselves to him.

One—he was the designated driver for Raoul and himself, and he couldn’t afford to be caught drinking and driving, especially not by Raoul’s godfather, who was sitting mere feet away from them.

Two—and the more serious consideration—he was still underage, a fact he had yet to confess to Raoul. Somehow he didn’t think this was the time to out himself as a minor.

As if reading his mind, Raoul murmured, “Go ahead. A little won’t hurt, and we’ll be eating dinner anyway. If you get drunk, I can drive.” He winked at Alexx.

Not sure if he should be reassured or more troubled by that declaration, Alexx took a tentative sip and pushed away the thought that he needed to tell Raoul the truth, soon. There would be time later, he rationalized to himself. The wine was light and fruity on his tongue, but he didn’t expect the bubbles. They went straight to his nose, eliciting a giggle. He blushed at his apparent faux pas, but no one else seemed to find his reaction anything less than normal.