Page 27 of Warrior's Cross

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.”

“Uh-huh,” Julian responded. “Well, come on; give me some,” he invited with a smile as he turned Cameron around and began pushing him out toward the kitchen, heedless of the fact that he was still nude.

Clearly, Julian was a man who was either used to being naked or was very comfortable with his body. Possibly both, Cameron speculated. He laughed as Julian urged him along. “I was getting ready to open the next bottle when you knocked,” he explained. “I’m making lasagna!” he claimed, as if that justified it.

“Sounds like a drinking task to me,” Julian affirmed with a sage nod.

“You’re humoring me,” Cameron accused as Julian pushed him into the kitchen.

“Yes,” Julian answered with a laugh.

Cameron stopped at the bar. “You’re laughing at me too.”

“Only a little,” Julian insisted with sincerity.

Cameron reached out to snag the corkscrew and slid around the bar that separated the living room and the kitchen, putting it between him and Julian. “No wine for you,” he muttered.

Julian snorted and turned his head a bit when the sound of tiny feet came stampeding around the corner toward them. “Oh, fun,” he commented as the puppies lobbed themselves at his bare ankles.

Cameron snickered at the look on Julian’s face. He set the corkscrew on the bar and walked over to the lasagna fixings. “How was work?” he asked.

Julian looked up at him, a hint of the guarded mask appearing before he looked back down and gently lifted his foot, trying to shake off a puppy without booting it across the floor. “It was... predictable,” he answered vaguely.

“Predictable,” Cameron commented. “Sounds... exciting. Although, I guess you would think my job is predictable.”

“I waited tables once,” Julian told him. “Once, as inonenight,” he was quick to clarify. “Nothing predictable about that. I’m much better off doing what I do, thank you.”

Cameron looked over his shoulder, grinning. “I can’t see you as a waiter,” he agreed. “You sort of have to talk to people, you know?” He turned back to the pan and finished layering the second lasagna.

“I talk,” Julian responded, sounding affronted by the implication that he didn’t.

Cameron wiped his hands off on a dish towel and covered the deep pan with aluminum foil. “Uh-huh. And justhow manydinners at Tuesdays did it take before you said word one to me?” He glanced to Julian as he carried the pan over to the freezer.

“I was nervous,” Julian offered lamely.

Cameron shook his head in disbelief as he shut the freezer door and turned around. “Then why sit in my section every Tuesday for who knows how many months?”

Julian grinned and finally wrapped the towel around his waist again after wresting it from two growling dogs. “Ten. Because I liked to watch you.”

Cameron blinked. Ten months. Wow. That long? “Watch me, but not speak to me.”

Julian sighed as his smile fell, and he lowered his head for a moment. “I was afraid I would say something out of line,” he said seriously.

Cameron’s brow furrowed. “Out of line?” He tipped his head to one side as he walked back to the bar and started opening the bottle of wine.

“Blake Nichols is a very good friend of mine, as well as a business partner,” Julian explained softly. “It wouldn’t do to get on my knees in the middle of his restaurant and beg you to come home with me.”

Cameron fumbled with the corkscrew while he blinked in shock that was aided by too much wine. His mouth dropped open as he tried to say something, but nothing came out; he could do nothing but stare at Julian with wide blue eyes.

Julian returned the look earnestly, waiting.

“Would you really have done that?” Cameron finally managed to ask.

“Probably,” Julian answered with a nod. “Blake told me I couldn’t,” he added in what was nearly a sulk.

Cameron’s eyes widened again. “Probably?” he repeated weakly.