Warrior's Cross (11 page)

Julian picked up one foot as one of the puppies latched onto his pants leg and began pulling and growling, trying to carry him away toward the playpen in the corner. “Ambitious, are we?” Julian said softly to the tiny puppy.

Chuckling, Cameron walked over with the lint brush. “Ever optimistic,” he corrected. He pushed Julian’s hands away from his uncooperative tie, handed him the lint roller, unwrapped the mangled fabric, and started over with it.

Julian held his hands away and focused on Cameron. The puppies continued to tug at him unnoticed as Cameron drew all his considerable attention. Cameron messed with the tie for a moment before realizing that he couldn’t tie one if he was facing it, so he moved selfconsciously around Julian and reached around his broad shoulders from behind. He couldn’t help but to press his nose against the back of Julian’s shoulder as he tied the tie, and he inhaled the man’s scent with a small smile. Julian stood motionlessly, letting him do as he pleased.

He moved back to stand in front of Julian and checked the tie to make certain it was straight, and he smoothed Julian’s collar down before glancing up and seeing the man’s pinning gaze. He colored a little and stepped back, then cleared his throat.

“What needs help?” he asked, reaching to take back the roller.

“Just my coat,” Julian murmured without looking away from him.

He moved deliberately as he shrugged into the heavy wool, his eyes never leaving Cameron’s. He held out his arms for inspection.

Glad for a reason to escape that intent gaze, Cameron moved around him slowly again, making sure to get all the fine white hairs he could see with the roller. He finished in front of Julian once more. “All done,” he murmured before looking down at the puppies still climbing over their feet. “Pants legs?” he asked, not wanting to look up just yet.

Julian ducked his head, trying to catch Cameron’s eyes. “Please,”

he answered evenly.

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“Just a sec,” Cameron murmured. He leaned over to gather the four wiggling puppies and carried them over to the playpen tucked unobtrusively in the corner. He set them inside and plaintive yapping followed him back to Julian, where Cameron knelt down on one knee to run the roller over Julian’s calves. Even though he made sure to avoid the other man’s eyes the whole time, he could feel Julian’s piercing gaze on him. Julian always watched him so closely; he couldn’t imagine how he had never felt those eyes on him in the restaurant. Warmth swamped his entire body.

Several more swipes and Cameron was done. He climbed back to his feet and finally offered Julian a crooked, nervous smile. “All presentable now.”

“Thank you,” Julian said to him softly. He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it again without saying anything. He tilted his head to the side and gave a small, almost embarrassed smile as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. It occurred to Cameron that Julian often dipped his head to one side or the other, or even ducked his chin as he spoke, and it was clearly because he was so tall. It was the only way to keep eye contact with someone so much shorter than he.

Cameron put his hands behind his back, fingers worrying at the roller as he watched Julian get ready to go. He had no idea what to say.

Nothing sounded right. Instead, he skimmed over Julian’s body one last time, trying to commit it and the feel of it against him to memory. As Cameron watched him, Julian lowered his head and began to walk slowly toward the door.

Then he stopped suddenly, turned around, and moved quickly toward Cameron to roughly pull him close and kiss him.

Cameron almost choked as he was grabbed and kissed within an inch of his life, and he held on tight for the length of the moment, savoring it, soaking it in. Julian held him so tightly that Cameron thought he might have bruises when it was over.

Julian detached himself just as suddenly as he’d moved before. “I hope to see you tonight,” he murmured as he backed away. “Merry Christmas,” he offered before turning and heading for the door on those silent cat’s feet.

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“Merry Christmas,” Cameron echoed as Julian exited the apartment without looking back.

Cameron stood there for long minutes, staring at the door after Julian left before wrapping his arms around himself and turning in place, feeling lost and overwhelmed. Finally, he went over to the playpen, liberated the puppies, and sat down on the floor, letting them cavort around him while he reflected on what had been an odd, amazing night.

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THE snow falling heavily outside almost obscured Cameron’s view of the street and the city beyond. A few candles filled the apartment with a popular scent of the season, and he had switched on the tiny twinkle lights he’d hung in the windows. His favorite Internet radio station played jazz holiday tunes, and he felt that was about all he needed for the holiday mood this year.

The afternoon and early evening had come and gone without so much as a hint of Julian’s return, and Cameron had convinced himself that it was what he’d expected, trying to ignore the disappointment.

He’d abandoned his book on the couch in favor of fixing himself dinner, using a recipe from Jean-Michel, the chef at the restaurant. It wasn’t exactly Christmasy: a thick, meaty lasagna with several layers that had required Cameron to search out a kitchen store the week before to buy extra-deep lasagna pans. He chopped and grated and cooked ingredients for almost an hour; one pan of lasagna was done and had been in the oven about two hours. Now he was putting the second together to freeze for another time.

Washing his hands for the umpteenth time, he paused to finish his glass of wine and refill it, grunting in surprise to find he’d somehow managed to finish the entire bottle. Shrugging, he set it aside and pulled another bottle off the rack. No reason not to get more than tipsy tonight, he thought wryly. No work tomorrow, no one to be presentable for, nowhere to go. He looked down at the huge lasagna and smiled. And he’d have food for days. Weeks, maybe.

Without warning, the puppies started yapping hysterically and ran for the front door. Cameron looked after them in surprise. He hadn’t heard the bell ring or buzzed anyone into the building. Frowning, he glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty. With a soft harrumph he rounded the Warrior’s Cross 73

bar to walk toward the door, carefully shooing the puppies away with his feet before peering through the peep-hole.

He jerked back in surprise and allowed himself a moment to quietly panic before he pulled off the chain and opened the door.

“Hello, Cameron,” Julian greeted in a soft voice. “May I come in?” he requested.

Blinking several times, Cameron stared for a long moment before shaking himself and stepping back. He thought vaguely that he should ask how Julian had gotten into the building, but when Julian spoke, the thought totally disappeared from his head.

“Thank you,” Julian murmured. When he stepped into the apartment, his dark clothing glistened slightly; it was soaked through and flecked with ice crystals.

Cameron closed the door behind him after counting the puppies now flopping around Julian’s feet, and his eyes moved upward over Julian’s clinging clothing. “You’re all wet,” he observed stupidly. “I’ll get you a towel,” he added, blushing slightly as he turned to head toward the bathroom.

“A towel won’t do me much good,” Julian answered with a wry smile as his hair dripped and rivulets of melted snow ran down his face, catching in his beard.

Stopping, Cameron looked at him more closely and stifled a laugh.

“What’d you do? Snow angels?”

Julian gave him a self-deprecating smile and lowered his head to run his hand through his wet hair. “Well, I considered one, but at the time I still had a dry sock to consider,” he joked. “I was walking. I had to leave my car because of the blizzard. You were much closer than home,” he admitted, looking slightly abashed. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

Cameron frowned. “Leave your car?” he repeated dubiously. On the well-snowplowed Chicago streets?

Julian pursed his lips. “You really want to know?” he asked, repeating himself from the night before.

“I think so,” Cameron answered before considering it.

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“I hit an ice sheet,” Julian said right away. “The car was pretty much done for the night after that.”

Cameron cocked his head and looked Julian up and down, not seeing any injuries. “Are you okay?” he asked as worry flared.

“I’m not hurt,” Julian assured him quickly. “I may be sore tomorrow,” he added as he pointed to his chest and rubbed it. “Safety belt,” he explained.

Still concerned, Cameron nodded toward the bathroom. “There’s towels in the basket if you want to shower. You must be freezing. It’s like ten degrees outside even without the wind.”

Julian nodded and watched Cameron with a curious expression.

“Do you mind?” he asked seriously. “I can call for a ride and go.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” Cameron said in surprise. “I wouldn’t turn you out soaking wet.” He pointed at the bathroom. “Go,” he said firmly.

Julian’s lips twitched in amusement, and he nodded obediently as he began to loosen his tie. “Yes, sir,” he drawled in a soft, low voice.

Cameron raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, watching in interest. Every time they spoke, a little more of Julian’s personality seemed to creep forth. It was anything but cold and foreboding. There was actually humor buried under there somewhere.

Julian removed his coat as Cameron watched, hanging it carefully on the coatrack beside the door. He turned and considered Cameron’s gaze. “Did you want to help me?” he asked in amusement.

Reaching out to touch Julian’s hand, Cameron could tell he was nearly frozen. “If that’s what it takes to thaw you out,” he said frankly.

“I’m surprised you’re not blue. Get moving. I’ll try to find you something dry to wear.”

“Thank you,” Julian murmured before turning and heading for the bedroom, undressing as he went.

Cameron followed along behind, taking the wet clothes as Julian pulled them off. Once in the bedroom, he slung them over a chair and went digging in his dresser. It would be a neat trick to find anything to Warrior’s Cross 75

fit Julian, but Cameron thought he had a couple oversized pairs of sweatpants and T-shirts that might work. For all that Julian was tall and broad-shouldered, he was very trim through the middle.

Cameron couldn’t dry Julian’s clothes for him; it was all high-class, dry-clean-only stuff. He cringed as he looked at the expensive labels. He couldn’t afford to breathe the air in those stores. Not many people could.

Julian made short work of showering, apparently just getting reasonably warm. He re-entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist, but water still ran down his chest and shoulders in thin streams.

Cameron glanced up from where he knelt in front of the fireplace beside the bed, having set it to burning. He stood and gestured to the clothes spread out on the foot of the bed before walking over with a frown. “If you don’t dry off, you’ll be right back where you started,” he scolded.

Julian smiled. “At least I’ll already be out of the wet clothes.” He licked his lips as he looked at Cameron fondly. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

Cameron narrowed his eyes. “What makes you ask that?”

“Because you’re a little less… twitchy,” Julian pointed out with a cock of his head.

The huff that was Cameron’s reply didn’t do anything to counter Julian’s statement. Neither did Cameron reaching out to yank the towel from the other man’s hips and tossing it over his head to roughly dry his dripping hair. Julian grunted in surprise and lowered his head obligingly. Cameron continued rubbing until he thought Julian’s hair might be sufficiently dry, and then he pulled the towel away and slid his hand into the damp hair to check. Julian watched him from under lowered lashes, his dark eyes shining.

Appeased, Cameron took the towel and dried Julian’s neck, shoulders, and chest before stepping back and pointing at the clothes expectantly.

Julian gave him an amused smile.

“I might have had some wine,” Cameron said reluctantly.

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“No kidding.” Julian laughed.

Cameron turned up his nose. “Fine then,” he said, letting the towel drape around Julian’s neck and shifting his weight to step back.

Julian snagged him and pulled him closer, kissing him with a small snicker. “I quite like you like this.”

Smiling again, Cameron curled his arm around Julian’s neck.

“Don’t do it often,” he admitted. “Usually working.” He ran his lips along Julian’s jaw and down the side of his neck, humming softly as he breathed in the other man’s scent.

“How much have you had?” Julian asked in interest.

Cameron flushed and hid his face in the crook of Julian’s neck. His answer was muffled in warm skin.

Julian laughed harder as he wrapped his still-damp arms around Cameron and hugged him. “That much, huh?” he prodded.

Cameron pulled back, looking obstinate. “Some. A bottle. Maybe.”