“Blue.” He deliberately called her by his nickname for her, making it intimate. Connecting them. “You brought the letters to me.”
“You gave me an order.” She didn’t look left or right, but kept her gaze on his face.
Her sultry voice sent heat through his body. It obviously didn’t take much for her to ensnare him or his leopard. “That’s a fact,” he agreed, wrapping his arm around her waist and turning her back toward the door. “Let’s do this over lunch. I’ve been here all night and I forgot to eat this mornin’.”
The moment he touched her skin, electricity arced between them. He felt the current rushing through his body and jumping back to hers. The beat of her heart echoed through his. His leopard pushed at him hard. He pushed back, taking control quickly.
“That’s not good for you, Remy,” she said, her frown drawing his attention to her full lower lip. “You need a keeper.”
“Are you applyin’ for the job?”
Her blue eyes darkened and her lashes swept down, veiling her expression. “I’ve heard you’re quite bossy. I’m afraid I wouldn’t do very well under those circumstances. I’ve been told I have problems with authority figures.”
He found himself laughing. He remembered saying that very thing to her when she had been about thirteen and he’d dragged Saria and Bijou out of a party at his own father’s bar. He’d been home for a brief visit and he’d caught the two of them in the bar. She’d been sassy, and he’d given her a lecture as he’d driven her to Pauline’s Inn. He’d taken both girls there, certain they’d behave for Pauline when they wouldn’t for anyone else.
“It’s the truth.”
“I just have never recognized anyone that could be a real authority figure,” Bijou contradicted in her smoky, sexy, melt-a-man-in-his-tracks voice.
He wrapped a length of her long, thick braid around his fist and pulled to keep from kissing that tempting mouth of hers. “You aren’t lookin’ in the right place, Blue. Open your eyes.”
She laughed, a soft, sensual sound that went straight to his groin. Laughing was so unexpected and so unlike Bijou, but just as sexy as her voice.
“I’m afraid to do that, Remy, especially if you’re applyin’ for the job. You’d be . . . bossy.” She laughed again, soft and low, sending hot blood pounding through his body.
“You’ve spent too much time with my sister,” Remy pointed out, and stopped in front of the door to the small café just down from the police station.
Bijou stiffened and halted abruptly. “You want to eat out? In a restaurant? In public?”
“Where else?” He tightened his hold on her. “You’re safe with me.”
Bijou shrugged. “If that’s what you want, but I’m not so certain you’re safe with me.”
Remy opened the door and she slipped inside, immediately stepping to one side waiting for him as heads swung around and a low murmur started up in the café. People recognized her. How could they not? Her face had been plastered on every tabloid for years and now, she was famous in her own right. Her face went still, composed. She wore that slightly haughty, don’t-touch-me expression she’d worn as she moved through the bull pen.
Remy glided close, and she tucked her body into his, beneath his shoulder, almost without conscious thought. He wrapped his arm around her, aware everyone in the room who knew him—and it was most of the customers—would consider that gesture one of proprietorship. Bijou obviously considered it a casual gesture and she relaxed against him.
“Booth or table, Remy?”
Remy smiled affectionately at the dark-skinned waitress with bright eyes and a ready smile. “Give us a booth if you can, Thereze, somewhere we can sit where no one will notice us.”
Thereze burst out laughing. “I think it’s a little too late for that, Remy.”
He looked around, and dozens of cell phones were up in the air, snapping pictures. He heaved a sigh as many of those in the café began texting furiously.
“Follow me, and I’ll do my best.” Thereze tossed Bijou a smile over her shoulder as she led them through the café toward the back. “Before you leave, you’ll have to autograph somethin’, even if it’s a napkin, for my husband, Emile. He’s the cook here and trust me, honey, he’s your biggest fan.”
Bijou nodded. “Of course. I’d be happy to do that.”
“Maybe a picture with him to put up on the wall,” Thereze added. “We own this place, and he’d be over the moon if you did that for him.”
Bijou’s body brushed against his. Remy looked down at her. Her smile was fixed in place and genuine, but the tension in her body belied her expression.
“No problem,” she agreed, but her smoky voice had dropped another octave.
Remy waited until they were seated, had menus and Thereze had bustled off to get them water and bread. “Will it really bother you to have your picture taken with Emile? I’ve known him for nearly my entire life and he’s a good man.”
Bijou shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking at the menu. “Of course not. I said I would, didn’ I?”
She sounded casual and sweet, even to his highly trained ears. Still, he didn’t believe her. He reached across the table, pushing down the menu with one hand and tipping up her chin with the other, forcing her head up, forcing her vivid blue eyes to meet his.
“Tell me. I’m okay with you bullshittin’ anyone else you feel you need to, but not me. What is it?”
Her gaze drifted over his face, taking him in. Deciding. There was a moment of hesitation but he refused to release her. He simply waited.
“I don’ mind takin’ a picture with anyone,” she said, her accent thickening, “but you have no idea what one picture will start.” She gave a little shrug. “No matter. If the food is good, it’ll be well worth it.”
That little half smile, so secretive, told him she wasn’t exaggerating. Something was going to happen once she took a picture with Emile.
“I’m not goin’ to leave you here alone, Blue,” he assured. “Whatever it is, you won’ be alone.”
“Tell me that after I’m here a few hours.”
“Hours?”
She nodded her head. “The nice people come first, askin’ for an autograph. Then the more bold ones askin’ for a picture. And then the ones who believe I owe them somethin’ because they listened to Bodrie’s music, or mine. In the middle of all of that, will be the really ugly ones who want to give me lectures and tell me I’ve never had talent and I’m skatin’ on my daddy’s fame.” She shrugged again.
He let go of her chin, scowling. “If that really happens, why the hell are you runnin’ around without a damned bodyguard?”
Her long lashes fluttered for a moment, and then lifted. Her blue eyes laughed at him. “I thought I was runnin’ around with a bodyguard.”
“I’m bein’ serious.”
Thereze put two glasses of water in front of them and poured a cup of coffee for Remy as she lifted an eyebrow at Bijou in inquiry.
Bijou smiled at her as she nodded. “I’d forgotten how strong the coffee is in New Orleans,” she admitted. “The heat and the coffee.”
“And mosquitoes,” Thereze added.
Bijou nodded again in agreement. “The mosquitoes, although I’ve noticed they don’ bother me quite as much as other people. It’s rare for me to get even a single bite. Something to do with my blood, or my scent. Whatever it is, I’m happy about that.”
“Somethin’ else?” Thereze asked.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Remy waited until the waitress moved away. “Blue, why would you go around without a bodyguard if people do you that way?” He wasn’t about to let it drop. She couldn’t tease her way out of the question. He wanted an answer. She was as elusive as the wind, but not to him. Never to him. He refused to accept her evasions.
Bijou sighed. “I forgot how relentless you are when you want something.”
She was silent, absently stirring her coffee with a spoon. Remy waited. He had the patience
of a leopard on the hunt and it had always stood him in good stead when interrogating a suspect. Bijou was like a wild, wary animal, not certain who to trust. He was going to be that man.
She finally looked up at him, her gaze once again moving over his face as if looking for something. “I’m coming home, Remy. I want a home and this is it, my last stand. I’ve been battling uphill for so long and I’m just plain tired. I’m not makin’ records or doin’ concerts anymore. I want to have a quiet, peaceful life. I need to sing, so that’s why I purchased the club, but I need a home. I’m done with travelin’.”
“You’re very successful as a singer.”
She sent him a brief smile. “Yes. I can’t say the business wasn’t good to me. Nothin’ on the scale of Bodrie, but certainly more than most and I’m grateful. I truly am. I think I had to prove to myself I could do it, and I’ve done that. I just want to come home now.”
He didn’t blink. Didn’t take his eyes from hers, forcing her to hold his gaze. “Why? I’m not buyin’ into the quiet peaceful life, Blue. Not for a moment.”
Color crept into her face and for a moment her blue eyes shifted away from his, feathery lashes veiling her expression. “It’s partly true, Remy. I don’ know what else to tell you. I spent far too long fightin’ a losin’ battle, tryin’ to outrun Bodrie. I learned it was foolish to even try. What was the point? He’s my father. He wasn’t the monster I thought him, or the god others did. I’m not ten anymore, desperate for my daddy’s love.”
“Everyone needs love and family, Bijou,” Remy said.
She pressed her lips together. “I need peace. And a home. I’m not him. I have a voice, but I choose not to be a rocker. I don’ have to make excuses, or be angry. I don’ have to try to please anyone else. It’s been a long road to learn things Miss Pauline tried to teach me so long ago. To be honest, I don’ like the life. I want a different one.”
“Miss Pauline tried to teach us all things we took forever to learn,” Remy said. “The bodyguard,” he prompted gently.
She was hiding something from him. She’d even admitted it, but she wasn’t going to reveal anything else, not so soon. He couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t seen him in years. The strange connection he felt toward her when she was young had been his need to protect a child. Now, she was all grown up and his feelings were so intense he could barely control them.
“If I look like a regular person, everyone local will accept me that way. Eventually no one will think a thing about me walkin’ around town on my own, and I’ll have my life back.” Bijou picked up the menu, clearly finished with the conversation. “What’s good here?”
He let her get away with it even if he didn’t altogether agree with her. “Everything. Emile has turned this little café into the premiere place to eat.” Remy took a sip of coffee and allowed himself to really look at her. “You’re really beautiful, Blue.” It was the simple, raw truth and he saw no reason to pretend otherwise.
Looking at her was painful, and not just because she made his body ache. He was very aware of the other men in the room and the way people were gawking at her. The leopard in him snarled and raked at his gut. He found it necessary to breathe deep to keep the animal calm while he drank her in.
“Thank you, Remy. I do appreciate you sayin’ so, but you’re starin’.”
“I’m well aware of that. I’m thinkin’ you’re goin’ to need to get used to it.”
They both waited until Thereze took their orders. Once the waitress was gone, Bijou opened her mouth to respond, but Remy gave a small shake of his head and without asking a single question, she halted. His leopard had gone still. Coiled. Ready. The great spine flexed. Remy smelled mint and soda pop. He turned his head and watched two young girls approach. Teenagers. Both were nervous, their fear and excitement coming off of them in waves.
Remy was well aware of the deep breath Bijou took as she turned her head toward the girls, a welcoming smile curving her soft lips.
“Can we have your autograph?” one asked while the other looked as if she might faint.
“Of course,” Bijou answered readily. She took the proffered pen and tablet. “What’s your name? Do you live here in New Orleans?”
“I’m Nancy, Nancy Smart, and this is my cousin, Alexandria. We both live here,” Nancy volunteered. “We went to your concert in Lafayette. It was so much fun.”
“That was fun for me too,” Bijou said as she wrote on the tablet. “The Lafayette concert was like comin’ home and bein’ with people I know after travelin’ so much.”
“I heard you bought a place here. Are you goin’ to be singin’?” Nancy ventured as she took the tablets and hugged them to her. “Can underage get in?”
“That’s a good question. I should think about how we can do a few special nights for everyone,” Bijou said. “Thanks for mentionin’ that.”
Nancy beamed. “I hope you do.”
The two girls nearly tripped over one another, giggling as they hurried back to their booth. Bijou twisted her fingers together and sent him a small smile. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’ apologize. That comes with the territory.”
“I hope I can still keep the younger crowd listening to me,” she said. “The kind of music I love isn’t always the most popular with them.”
Her voice when speaking was amazing. The blend of smoke and sultry heat slipped under his skin and stroked like caressing fingers.
“Did you bring the threats against you?”
She nodded and drew a packet out of her tote bag. The stack of letters was at least an inch and a half thick and was in a plastic bag. “These are the ones I’m mostly concerned about. There’s a lot more, but these are the worst. My manager told me to keep them inside somethin’ to keep fingerprints off of them.” She pushed the packet across the table with one finger. “They’re all yours. I hope you have fun readin’ them. You’ll need a really good sense of humor.”
Her fingers fiddled with the water glass, idly turning it in circles.
“Bijou.” Remy used his lowest, most commanding voice. “Look at me.”
Her lashes lifted and the impact of those vivid cornflower blue eyes hit him hard. “Has someone or something scared you?” She didn’t respond, but he saw the answer in her eyes. “You can tell me. Just say it.”
Her hand went defensively to her throat, to the thin silver chain that dipped into the neckline of the shirt she wore, almost as if that chain was a talisman. “It’s silly really. I’m becomin’ a little paranoid. I thought if I stayed with a friend—with Saria—I could sort things out. She’s very grounded.”
He resisted the urge to snort his opinion of that. The truth was, for all her wild ways, Saria was grounded and she made a loyal friend.
“I used to get a few threats before Bodrie’s death, nothin’ really scary, just that I didn’ know what a good daughter should be like to her daddy and I was goin’ to learn a few hard lessons.” She nodded toward the packet. “I could recognize his patterns. He’s been writing me a very long time. When I started singin’ on my own, a new theme started. I had no talent. I shouldn’t be tryin’ to capitalize on my daddy’s good name and if I didn’ stop, I was goin’ to find myself in a dangerous position.”
She closed her mouth abruptly, pressing her lips together tightly as Remy swung his head toward two more people approaching. This time it was a couple. They looked to be in their sixties.
“Ma’am. Miss Breaux?” The man held out a napkin. “Would you mind autographin’ this for us? Mr. and Mrs. Chambridge.”
The woman smiled hesitantly. “We try to go to all your concerts.”
“We’ve got all your music,” Mr. Chambridge added.
“Of course,” Bijou said, “I’d be more than happy to give you an autograph. I can’t believe you’re so kind as to come to my concerts and support me.”
As if she’d thrown open the gates to a fancy mansion and invited everyone in, the others in the café quickly rose and pressed close, thrus
ting paper, shirts, napkins and even a backpack at Bijou to sign. She didn’t hesitate, but was gracious and sweet to every single person jarring the table and crowding around them. The temperature went up fast. Remy found himself wanting to shove everyone back away from her, especially those that touched her arms and shoulders, or “accidentally” brushed her hair.
It was as if the floodgates had opened, and there was no going back. Remy began to feel uneasy. His leopard snarled and raked at him, so close his skin itched and he could feel fur rippling beneath the surface. The closer the crowd pushed on Bijou, the edgier he became. Anyone wishing her harm could easily slip up behind her and plunge a knife into her back or shoot her.
His jaw ached and he rubbed it, trying to soothe the tense muscles developing so quickly. Bijou continued to sign autographs and talk briefly with each person, and just as she predicted, individuals became bolder, asking for pictures with her. Bijou posed with that same soft smile on her face. Over and over.
More people poured into the café, brought, no doubt, by the text messages of friends. Two men pushed their way through the crowd. Thereze protested as she tried to get through the mass of people to deliver the food. The men pushing at Bijou were obnoxious, pressing for her phone number, where she was staying, and when she simply smiled and shook her head, one swore and called her bitch.
Remy stood up so fast he knew his cat was closer to the surface than he’d even imagined. His reflexes were lightning. He caught the man by the back of his neck and slammed him down on the table, holding him there.
“I’m done with this. Everyone go back to your tables. And you can apologize for your mouth,” he added to his prisoner. His voice was deceptively low. His eyes definitely glowed cat—he was seeing with a cat’s vision. His aggression was doubly so. He knew his strength reflected his leopard’s closeness.
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