Leopard's Prey (Leopard People 5)

"It isn't about fallin' in love," Bijou said. She looked up at him. "At least, that's not what it says to me. All the drops are individual until they hit halfway down the waterfall and then they blend together, revealin' all the faces pourin' over the cliff and flowin' to the bottom into the pool. When I look at it, I see the life in the universe--the way each form of life is on an individual journey as we take that free fall. We come together back in the universe . . ." She bit her lip. "I'm not sayin' this very well, Arnaud, but for me it's a statement on the universe and life and death. That's what I see when I look at this piece."

A slow smile lit up his face for one brief moment and then faded away. "You always 'get' me, Bijou. I believe we all free-fall through the world and then the universe absorbs us back into it one way or another and we give back to it."

"No matter what it means to others, Arnaud, and that's the true beauty of art, everyone sees what they need to see, this sculpture is truly wonderful."

"It's my favorite of all of them."

"You didn't just do faces like everyone would expect," she observed. There was the curve of hair, a perfect mouth, animals and plants, bits and pieces of various living things captured in his sculpture.

"Our life-form shares the planet with millions of other life-forms," he said. "And then all of us go back to dust to feed the Earth."

"I don' know if that's beautiful or terrifyin'," Bijou said.

"Of course it's beautiful. Our life-form is beautiful, but not always those that inhabit the form are. You happen to be very rare, Bijou." He looked around the crowded room, the people in dozens of conversations, sipping on expensive wine and champagne and eating from the hors d'oeuvres trays the waiters passed around. "I think you've found a few friends who seem to be very much like you."

He paused, forced a smile and waved at several people greeting him. Bijou immediately took over for him, making the conversation, easing him into it occasionally. She tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm, a small way of using code between them. When Arnaud needed a little space from the crowd grouped around them, he pressed his palm tightly over her hand and she would find an excuse to graciously move on, giving him breathing space.

The next two hours were spent talking to couples, groups and individual fans of Arnaud's work, all eager to purchase one of his famous sculptures or a smaller item from his rare jewelry section. They worked the room together, Bijou making certain that no one felt slighted. They were all potential customers, and many were repeat buyers, millionaires and even two billionaires perusing the art. Not only did they get to talk to Arnaud, but they were more than delighted to chat with the celebrity on his arm.

The music turned dreamy and the small dance floor became crowded. Men in tuxedos and women in long, glittering gowns moved together to sway and twirl. Bijou caught sight of Saria and Drake dancing, steps perfectly matching.

"Is Drake your bodyguard?" Arnaud asked as they distanced themselves from the latest crowd of admirers.

"No, why?"

"He carries himself like a bodyguard, and he's very aware of everyone in the room and where you are. He isn't the only one either," Arnaud added.

Bijou had forgotten just how much Arnaud, as an artist, took in. He was very observant, even if he really wasn't all that social. She inclined her head, respecting him too much to lie to him. "Remy's worried that someone is tryin' to hurt me. And you know I've always had to have bodyguards. I'm tryin' to make it so that won't be necessary, but I'm not quite there yet."

"You'll get there," he assured. "Although, I like the idea that someone's looking out for you. Is this thing with Remy serious?"

"I've always been serious about him," she admitted. In some ways it seemed a relief that she could say it out loud. "He helped me when no one else would. He stood up for me and risked his job to do it. I always thought he was everythin' a man should be." She shrugged. "I guess I came home to find out if the real thing was as good or better than my fantasy."

"I hope he is," Arnaud said. "You deserve to be happy, Bijou. I hope he keeps bodyguards around you for a long time." He took her hand and brought it absently to his lips, bowing slightly, very old world.

Bijou turned her head as a series of flashes went off. Bob Carson stood only a few feet away, snapping pictures, one right after the other. Involuntarily and in a slight panic, she tightened her fingers on Arnaud's arm. She hadn't expected to see Carson after the incident in the swamp, but smelling him there wasn't the same as proving that he'd been there.

Arnaud put up a hand to shield her from the camera, turning her quickly and walking her toward the back. He glanced over his shoulder. "You definitely have bodyguards looking out for you; they're escorting him out. That's got to be the one who destroyed my car and wrote all over yours. Your stalker."

"There's no proof, but he does scare me a little bit," she admitted. "Who's escorting him out? I can't imagine him going quietly."

She stopped to watch as Gage and Remy came up on either side of Carson. Drake stood in front of him, relieving him of the camera. When he started to protest, Remy leaned in and whispered something very softly to the man. Carson went absolutely pale. He backed up, both hands going up in the air in surrender. Drake handed Carson back his camera as he and Gage walked the photographer outside. Remy turned and looked straight at her.

Her eyes met his. All that intense glittering green. Her heart gave a jump and began to pound hard. He looked extremely handsome in a black suit and tie. His shoes were a little scuffed and his tie had already been loosened, but his jacket emphasized his wide shoulders, and to her, no one could hold a candle to him.

"Have you ever noticed he has cat's eyes?" Arnaud asked. "Very unusual. Very focused. He doesn't blink. He even moves like a cat. Fluid. Graceful. I wish I could capture that particular motion."

With a sinking heart, Bijou recognized Arnaud's tone had already gone to that place she had come to recognize. He was all about the muse and was in work mode, completely forgetting where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. He studied Remy as the detective made his way across the floor, weaving in and out of the crowd easily.

There would be no distracting him, Bijou knew. He was as focused on Remy as Remy was on him. Remy's gaze had shifted to the artist and then dropped to her hand tucked so comfortably in the crook of Arnaud's arm. Faint color stole up her neck to her cheeks. Arnaud wasn't paying any attention to her at all, his artist's focus completely on Remy.

"I went to a big cat sanctuary once and sat on a bench all day just watching the various cats. Look at the way he moves. The crowd actually gets out of his way. He doesn't maneuver around them so much as they move for him, almost instinctively as if they recognized danger, someone higher on the food chain."

"That's probably the cop in him," Bijou said, a little shocked at how perceptive Arnaud was. She should have realized an artist of his caliber would notice things others didn't. "And he was in the military as well. He can handle himself." She tried to distract him.

Arnaud continued as if she hadn't spoken. "One of the most intriguing things I noticed about the large cats was their stare. They would suddenly seem to drop into a hunting zone, and once they fixed that stare on something, they never looked away."

Remy was nearly to them. She could smell him--his wild, masculine scent. He looked so good she wanted to fling herself into his arms, but he wasn't looking at her, he was staring at Arnaud. Not that Arnaud appeared to be intimidated in any way. He didn't seem to notice the danger in the stare, saw only as an artist wanting to capture the look.

The tension heightened as Remy got right up to them, his gaze locked with Arnaud's. Bijou wasn't certain how to act, how to break the near hostility emanating from Remy. Few people could understand Arnaud's obsession. Clearly he was a genius with his art, but he wasn't interested in much else.

"Look at his eyes, Bijou. They're perfection." Arnaud didn't have the least idea he might upset anyone with his comments either. He acted as tho

ugh Remy couldn't hear him, that he and Bijou were having a private conversation. "Tiger eyes? What do you think? Leopard? Lion? Not lion. Amazing. And his bone structure is nearly as perfect as yours, although male, of course." The words tumbled over one another. "I don't know how I could have missed this the other day when he rescued us." He looked around almost helplessly. "I need my pad and pencils." He scowled. "There are too many people in here, Bijou. Can you get rid of them? I need to sketch him."

She caught both of Arnaud's shoulders in a tight grip. She'd seen him like this before, and it took a lot to bring him out of his nearly mesmerized state. "Arnaud. Look at me. Look at me right now."

His eyebrows came together and it took a moment for him to acknowledge her. He blinked rapidly and then looked around him as if coming out of a trance.

"We're goin' to dance now and then we'll talk to a few more people. After that, I'll get you out of here," she promised. "You can sketch Remy's face and eyes later if you still want to."

She sent Remy a quick look from under the sweep of her lashes hoping he would understand and cooperate. Arnaud could not walk out on his own show. He would not be nice to his customers if he forgot what he was supposed to be doing and disappeared back into his world of art. Arnaud was capable of simply retreating from reality, living in his art and what he was creating. These showings were important to his career, but they took a terrible toll on him.

"I'm just goin' to get a drink," Remy said. "I'll be dancin' with you before we go home, Blue. Nice to see you again, Mr. Lefevre."

Arnaud, still a little distracted, inclined his head as Bijou led him away. Arnaud was a wonderful dancer. He was good at anything he did when he decided it was something he wanted done. She slipped into his arms, smiling a little at the absolute correctness of his dancing style. He knew ballroom and his frame was always exact. He never held her too close or rubbed his body against hers. He danced beautifully, moving her with absolute confidence from one step to the next, so perfectly others stepped back to watch them. He always made her feel as if they were floating through the clouds, he was that light on his feet. He rarely talked when they danced, but he did manage to make her feel like a princess in a fairy tale as he moved her over the floor to the symphony of music.

When the dance was over, several people clapped and Arnaud dipped her with a small smile that never quite reached his eyes. When he pulled her back up, he put his mouth next to her ear. "I have to get out of here. I need to work. I have to get to New York in a few days, so I'm running out of time and everything has set me back. This is such a waste of my time."