Leopard's Prey

of jewelry a man very interested in her would give as a gift.
    “You could be right. Just tell me everythin’ right now because I’m goin’ to get it out of you eventually.” He reached across the table, unable to stop himself—another loss of control
she
caused—and pulled the silver chain until the pendant was completely exposed.
    The piece was round, three-dimensional and beautiful. He recognized the work of Arnaud Lefevre, a renowned sculptor who made rare jewelry pieces as well. His work went for tens of thousands for the jewelry and hundreds of thousands for his sculptures. One of the most prestigious galleries in New Orleans carried his work. Occasionally, Arnaud visited the various galleries around the world displaying his art and it was always a huge gala event.
    “Where’d you get this piece?”
    “Arnaud gave it to me,” Bijou said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    “You two goin’ out?” He asked the question casually, but he wasn’t feeling casual.
    She frowned at him and carefully put down her fork. “I thought we were talkin’ about the threats to me.”
    “We were. Now we’re talkin’ about you steppin’ out with Arnaud Lefevre.”

4
    B IJOU studied Remy’s completely expressionless face. His eyes had gone strange, from a brilliant cobalt blue to a deeper shade of green that almost glowed. He looked—dangerous. His gaze was focused on her, unblinking, mesmerizing and a little exhilarating. She found herself staring at him, unable to look away. Remy had a commanding presence. He exuded absolute confidence. There was no back up in him. He was even more of a steady rock than she remembered.
    Remy truly fascinated her. For most of her life she’d thought of him. With her every adversity he’d been there, forcing her to do her best, believing in her, even if it had been a child’s imagination. He had become her white knight, the man who had come charging in and saved her in her darkest hour. She’d clung to his belief in her. The words he’d said to her became her mantra to live by. He believed she was strong—wasn’t a coward—and she’d done her best as a child to live up to his confidence in her. She’d never broken her promise to him. Not once, no matter how tempted she’d been.
    He was so beautiful—in a very masculine way. There was nothing feminine about Remy other than maybe his eyelashes. His shoulders were wide and ropes of defined muscles rippled every time he moved. She’d flirted—how could she help it—and he’d flirted back. Strangely, she was more at ease with him than she ever was with anyone.
    “Arnaud is a friend. I’ve admired his work and bought one of his sculptures several years ago at a gallery in New York. He was having a show there and I met him. He apparently enjoys my music.”
    “Everyone enjoys your music.”
    “If you’re thinkin’ he’s a stalker, or makin’ death threats, you can think again. He has my private number and can call me anytime. I have to change the number every couple of months and I send it to him.” The thought of elegant Arnaud Lefevre as a man going into the swamps and painting eyes on the walls of buildings was laughable.
    Remy frowned. “I don’ have your number. Why is that?”
    Laughter bubbled up. She rarely felt like laughing, but for some reason when she was with Remy, she felt happy. “Do you want my private number?”
    A tiny thrill swept through her at his nod. She tried hard to suppress it as she held out her hand for his phone. He looked so serious. Her hand trembled as she took his cell phone and entered her number before handing it back.
    Remy glanced down and then smiled at her. “Blue?”
    “My code name if anyone ever gets ahold of your phone.” She sent him a faint grin.
    Bijou was used to false adulation. People liked her and wanted to be around her because of who she was—Bodrie’s daughter or because she was a wildly popular singer. She didn’t want that from Remy, and he wasn’t that kind of man. Remy made her feel as if he knew her—as if he could see inside her where no one else had ever looked.
    She’d come home for the reasons she’d told him, but it was more than that. She’d never been able to connect with a man, to trust a man enough to get close to him. There was always Remy, and no one ever quite came up to her childhood image of him. He was the larger than life hero who she compared every man she met with. She knew she had trust issues. She didn’t always like men,