He made her sound like a little rabbit. "Your sister said you have a one track mind and it's most annoyin'. I'm beginnin' to believe her."
He leaned across the table, his cobalt blue eyes holding her gaze captive. He was absolutely mesmerizing. "No, you don'. You find me charmin'."
Her heart stuttered. A million butterflies took flight in her stomach. She had been so certain she could come back to New Orleans and find that her childhood hero was really a figment of her imagination. The real Remy was far more potent and sexy than she had ever conceived. He was larger than life. Protective. Funny. Intelligent. Everything she could ever want in a man, and that was totally unexpected.
"I suppose one could call you charmin'," she agreed in a slow, grudging voice. All the while laughter bubbled close to the surface. She liked spending time in his company. More, he made her feel safe, and she hadn't felt safe in a long time. It occurred to her that she was in over her head.
"Blue." Remy's voice went very low, a stroke of velvet over skin. "I do enjoy the way you're lookin' at me, but I want an answer. What has you scared?"
She forced her mind to focus on his question rather than his sexy tone. That meant not looking directly at him. She found she really loved his face, the strong jaw with the darker shadow and his strange, almost cat eyes. Bijou pulled herself up short. She felt a little like a teenager with her first crush. She hadn't really experienced that stage of development and it was disconcerting to find she was entering into it at this late date.
"Twice, when I was a teenager, living in the mansion with Bodrie, I had a huge fight with him. A giant eye was sprayed on my bedroom wall with a can of red spray paint. A few months after Bodrie died, I found that eye drawn on the ground in my front yard with the same red spray paint. It was disturbing, but not at all frightening." She shoved both hands through her hair and sat back in her chair.
How did one explain to those probing eyes why she hadn't been more proactive about death threats? She'd grown up around them. Stalkers were part of her childhood. As a teenager and while she attended college, she'd dealt with both threats and stalkers on a regular basis. Nine times out of ten, the threats ended up being someone trying to scare her because she'd turned them down when they'd asked her out on a date.
"Threats and stalkers are commonplace with bein' Bodrie's only child. I wanted to live a normal life . . ."
Remy growled. There was no other word for it. The sound was frightening. Her gaze jumped to his.
"How the hell did you expect to live a normal life, Blue? You're worth a fuckin' fortune. You're the daughter of one of the most infamous men on the planet and you sing for a living. A little protection might have been an intelligent decision."
She pressed a hand to her suddenly churning stomach. "If you're goin' to insist on insultin' me, Remy, then screw this. I'm not tellin' you a thing." She'd never discussed her life with anyone. It wasn't easy, especially with him. Damn him anyway. She was all caught up in his good looks and dark sensual nature, and forgot he thought of her as twelve. "Thanks for lunch, but I've got a few things to do." She reached for the packet of letters.
His fingers shackled her wrist, pinning her hand to the table. "I'm sure you're very aware I have no problem with public confrontation. I don' mind throwin' you over my shoulder and takin' you somewhere more private to discuss this. Can you imagine the number of videos and pictures that will be put up on YouTube?"
She glared at him, afraid to say anything. They stared at one another for a long while. He didn't blink once. Not once. She became aware of his thumb sliding back and forth over her wrist. It felt like a caress to her and after a couple of minutes, she couldn't think of anything else she was so aware of that small motion. His touch sent a rush of heat through her entire body.
"I shouldn't have implied you aren't intelligent," he relented. "I read the newspapers and more than once your name has come up for the business decisions you've made. It's just that I know a lot more about human nature than you do. I've seen just about everythin' ugly one human can do to another. I don' want to take chances with your life."
She was in way over her head. For all of her money and sophistication, the life she'd led, she'd never been really attracted to a man before and she was falling fast for Remy. She kept reminding herself the attraction was leftover hero worship of a man who had cared enough to be angry at her. He clearly still thought of her as a child.
"It's all right." She experimented with moving her wrist subtly, hoping he'd get the hint and release her so she wasn't so aware of him physically.
"No, it isn't," he contradicted. "We both can't be hotheads, Blue. You're goin' to have to mellow out and learn to stay calm. Stalkers and anyone puttin' you in danger are always goin' to be a trigger for me."
The way he looked at her with those deep blue eyes, so focused on her, mesmerizing her, the way his thumb moved over her bare skin, sent her tumbling straight off a cliff. There was that note of humor combined with his lazy drawl that added somersaults and dizzy spins to her fall. How could she possibly ever hope to be sensible when he was so sexy without even trying?
"I refuse to believe I'm a hothead," she said. "Now you, on the other hand, have a certain reputation."
He nodded. "I've earned it, so believe it, chere. Tell me the rest."
"Then don' be interruptin' me," she said.
Bijou had the feeling the only way to save herself from her reaction to his Cajun charm was to run for her life. She must have unconsciously started to pull away from him because his fingers tightened like a shackle around her wrist, holding her still.
"Then don' be distractin' me," he admonished.
It was impossible not to laugh. "I can see why Saria says you always get your way. You're very persistent and charming at the same time."
"Thank you."
She shook her head. "That was not a compliment."
He tapped the letters.
Bijou sighed. "It was the progression more than anythin' else that scared me. I was in LA when I found the first one. Then when I moved to be closer to the university I was attendin', I found the same thing in my underwear drawer."
Remy sat up straighter. "He was in your house? In your bedroom?"
She nodded. It was rather humiliating to have to admit any of it. "On my underwear. The eye was drawn on a pair of lacy boy shorts with spray paint." She felt the color creeping up her neck. There was no way to stop it.
"And you didn't go to the police?"
His voice had gone very soft. She went still, the hair on the back of her neck raising in response to his tone. Her body recognized danger.
"The point is," she said hastily, "in the beginning, whoever was stalkin' me just left his silly eye in spray paint and that was the end of it. About a year ago he started addin' messages about me sinnin' and how I was goin' to pay for it."
When he started to say something she held up her hand. "This is difficult for me, Remy, so let me just get on with it. He started breakin' into Bodrie's properties and then those last three letters were sent by the same man, I'm certain of it. They aren't very nice. This has been goin' on for years with no sight of him, just that stupid eye starin' at me. But those letters . . ." She trailed off, glancing at his set jaw.
She was trembling and knew he could feel it because his hand was wrapped around her wrist. There was nowhere to hide. "Hopefully when you read them, you'll understand. They're fairly graphic, and he's definitely been watchin' me. Everywhere I go, even in my own home. He has to be gettin' in the house and finding a way to watch me."
Remy's gaze moved past her to the street and then back to her. "I want you to turn slightly to your left and look across the street. There's a man standing on the grass over there, back behind the tree. He's watchin' us and has been since we entered the cafe. Tell me if you've seen him before."
Remy had sat there, all calm and composed, never letting on, yet he'd noticed someone outside the cafe watching them. She'd been so wrapped up in Remy, she wouldn't have noticed if the man had stood over her. Even now, she could barely pull her gaze from his. His eyes and voice were hypnotic. There was something feral about his unblinking stare, and she was trapped in his dangerous spell and her own hero worship.
Her heart kicked into high gear in anticipation of the possibility of uncovering the identity of her stalker. Her mouth went dry. Remy's fingers stroked comfort along her wrist. "If he sees me looking, won't he run?"
"I have the advantage of havin' a cell phone and four brothers. Take a look. If he notices and takes off, the boys will shadow him."
Remy and his brothers were always an impressive sight when they were together. She had always wanted to be part of a big, noisy family. Not waiting, Bijou turned her head and looked straight across the street.
The man looked to be about forty, with shaggy hair and a beard. He was a good distance away, but he was definitely looking through the window at her. Their eyes met. He looked away quickly and turned on his heel and walked briskly away.
Bijou frowned. "I've seen him around, Remy. I've been in so many clubs and given so many concerts, it's impossible to tell for certain, but I think Rob knows him, Rob Butterfield, my manager."
"He's not the only one watching you, Blue. That idiot Ryan Cooper is hangin' out by his car, but his attention is on you."
"I didn't actually autograph anything for him," Bijou reminded. "He got ugly and you read him the riot act. He probably wants an autograph and is waitin' for me to leave without you."