Saria was outside waiting when the sheriff's car pulled up. She rushed to the door, yanking it open. "What happened to you?" Saria demanded, her voice filled with concern.
Bijou blinked back unexpected tears she hadn't known were so close. Clearly her emotions were far rawer than she'd realized. She attempted a small smile. "Remy pushed me into the bayou."
Saria glared at her brother. Remy backed up a step and held up both hands in surrender.
"She went swimmin' on her own. She must have gotten all hot and bothered thinkin' about me," Remy said hastily.
Bijou rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that was it. I'm sorry about the room, Saria."
"My brother can be sorry about the room, not you," Saria said, shooting another glare at Remy.
"What happened to the room?" Gage asked with a deliberate drawl.
Bijou felt color creeping up her neck and throat. "I have to get ready for my performance tonight, Saria. I'll scrub the shower when I get back. Do you have a trash bag so I can throw away these clothes?"
"Go away, Gage," Remy ordered. "And I mean right now."
"Thanks for taking Arnaud to his hotel," Bijou said as she turned to enter the Inn.
"No problem, although I think he stank more than you do," Gage replied with a wink.
"He was underwater a lot longer. He was trapped, and I had to cut him loose," Bijou admitted. "We were lucky neither of us drowned."
Remy frowned at her. "What do you mean you nearly drowned? What the hell happened? I thought you bailed when the SUV went over the bank."
Saria looked horrified. "Bijou, how awful. I'll make some tea. You take a shower and I'll have it ready for you."
"Answer me," Remy insisted, catching Bijou's arm before she could step inside.
No one had moved. Bijou took a deep breath. Reliving it only made the entire episode worse. "Our ropes were cut first, leaving us trapped on that very tiny ledge. Then the SUV was pushed over the bank, nearly on top of us. We waited a long time, hours really, before Arnaud insisted he climb out and then get me up. He tried three times, and the bank kept crumblin'. He waited between each climb because I was pretty freaked out, afraid he'd be killed, but night was fallin' and he felt we had no choice."
Bijou lifted her gaze to Remy's face. He was absolutely still. His face could have been one of Arnaud's sculptures, so utterly without expression, frozen. Her heart did a funny little flip and a million butterflies took flight in her stomach. She looked away.
"He finally used a tree root to tie off just in case he fell again and it would save him from going into the bayou. Unfortunately, what neither of us knew was that the tree above us had been hit by the SUV when it went over and was already unstable. To make a long story short, the tree went, takin' Arnaud with it. I followed him in just in case and it was a good thing I did."
"Did it occur to you at any time," Remy asked, "that an alligator most likely was in that water?"
"Of course. I was scared, if that's what you want to hear." She couldn't help the belligerence creeping into her tone. "Don' tell me you wouldn't have gone in after him, because I know you would have."
"That's not the same," Remy snapped.
Deliberately, Saria stepped between them. "What happened, Bijou?"
Grateful for Saria's presence, Bijou focused on her. "The tree rolled, and he couldn't get out of the rope and harness so it took him with it. I cut him free but he was still trapped. His hikin' boot was wedged in the crook of the branch. I had to cut him out of that as well. I didn't think either of us was goin' to make it out of there alive."
"Thank God you were there," Saria said, casting a warning glance at her brothers when both moved as if to protest. "Arnaud would be dead if you hadn't gone in after him. I'll get the tea made, you take a shower and we'll disinfect those scratches on your arm before you have to go to work."
"Thanks, Saria," Bijou said. She hurried into the house before either of the Boudreaux brothers could say another word to her.
Bijou stripped the moment she was safe in her bathroom, tossing her ruined clothes onto a plastic bag she found inside the trash can. It was small, but it worked. The hot water felt wonderful and she let it pour over her head as she worked the long, thick braid loose so she could wash her hair.
"You know you could have been killed."
She screamed and threw the bottle of shower gel at the intruder, nearly jumping out of her skin. So much for her early warning system. "I locked the door. How did you get in here?"
Remy shrugged. "You didn't lock your balcony door, and in any case I'm very good at pickin' locks."
"Get out of here."
"We need to talk," Remy said, resting one hip on the sink.
"We should have talked this morning, you cretin. Not now. Get out of my room right this minute. I'm naked."
"It's a little late to suddenly become modest, don't you think?"
"It really isn't a good idea for you to be remindin' me about last night," Bijou snapped. "Get out of my bathroom right now. I'm hangin' on by a thread, Remy, and I've got a show to do tonight."
"We're goin' to talk."
"Fine. But not now. Go away, and don' be thinkin' you have the right to come into my personal space anytime you like. I mean it, Remy. Just because we . . . We . . . Whatever you call what happened last night, doesn't mean it's goin' to happen again. Go away."
"It's goin' to happen again."
She wasn't going to argue that point. If he kept sitting there, all arrogant and hot-looking it might happen again and she needed him gone. Now. This instant. Her body was already coming alive, that terrible craving starting. He had to go.
"Please go, Remy. Please."
He sighed and straightened up. "But we're talkin' after your show tonight. I know you're goin' to be tired, chere, but it's important."
She didn't answer, but turned away from him, mostly out of self-preservation. She was truly in trouble around Remy. Her body seemed to rule her head, not the other way around, and she had to find a way to conquer her need of him.
10
REMY stood in the back of the packed club, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze moving over the crowd restlessly. His leopard had never liked being indoors, let alone in the midst of a throng as big as this one. He was surprised the fire marshal, who was sitting in the crowd, hadn't complained.
He spotted Arnaud at a table up front, clearly a welcome guest. Just the sight of the man set his teeth on edge and if Bijou smiled at him one more time, he just might have to go drag the sculptor right out of the club and throw him in the bayou again. What the hell was she thinking? Leopards weren't nice about sharing mates. They were jealous and bad tempered, and his leopard was one of the worst. Remy disliked Arnaud on principle, but his leopard despised him.
Basically, he despised any man who came near Bijou, but especially the ones she smiled at--or sang to. Remy's gaze went back to Bijou. She always astonished him when she sang. Her voice was such a blend of smoke and sex. There was a husky, sinful quality to her vocals, rich and beautiful, the tone unique. She had some of the gravel her father was famous for, and the wide, wide range, but the soft, sensual quality was all her own.
She looked beautiful. There was no other word for it. She was in a long gown that hugged her phenomenal figure, emphasizing her small waist and drawing attention to her full breasts and rounded hips. She was breathtaking as far as Remy was concerned and he had the feeling that a good number of the men in the audience felt the same.
Each set seemed better than the last. He knew she'd suffered trauma, and yet she was totally relaxed, genuinely smiling and very friendly to her audience--completely different while performing than when she was simply Bijou. Bijou was shy and withdrawn, but as a singer, she was confident and smooth, and very sexy.
Her voice burned through his skin to sink into his bones. It sounded like a cliche to him but she took his breath away standing up there, belting out her soulful, bluesy song so effortlessly, the