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.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’m headin’ down to the voodoo shop to talk to Eulalie Chachere. You can go with me.”

She blinked, sitting up straight. He almost sounded as if he was giving her an order instead of an invitation, but maybe she was just being sensitive. She had fallen too far under his spell and needed to pull back. “I have a few things to do this afternoon.” She had planned to walk around and get reacquainted with the French Quarter before returning to the Inn. It wasn’t pressing but it was self-preservation. If she spent too much more time in Remy’s company she would be well and truly lost.

He smiled at her and her heart nearly stopped. His mouth curved, bringing his lips to her instant attention. His teeth flashed white and strong. The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

“I’m askin’ you to accompany me. I like your company even if you are a bit of a hothead.” The humor faded from his eyes. “I am going to be talkin’ to her about the altar the killer left behind and that might be upsetting to you.”

Her temper kicked into high gear. He did think she was a baby. He would never have even considered that Saria would be upset by the discussion of the details of a murder. Again color swept up her face. She’d thrown up. The evidence had been left behind, messing up the crime scene.

“I wouldn’t mind comin’ along and hearing what the voodoo lady has to say,” Bijou snapped. “Let’s go right now.” She knew she sounded annoyed and challenging, but she couldn’t help it. Lately she’d been restless and moody. She’d always been edgy anyway, and now it seemed so much worse. She was driven, but didn’t know to what. Sometimes she spent nights just pacing, trying to get rid of the edgy darkness that seemed to be spreading through her.

His slow grin sent a million butterflies winging their way through her stomach. “You are a little hothead, Blue.” He gave a mock sigh that made her heart skip a few beats. “I guess I’ll be the one to rein in the temper.”

She deliberately rolled her eyes. “I have way more control.”

His gaze jumped to hers, held her captive. There was something very hot and sexy in his eyes. “I’m takin’ that as a challenge, chere. I’m certain, if I put my mind to it, I’ll find a way to make you lose control.”

His drawl was quite frankly sinful, his voice implying things she didn’t dare think about. Lately she’d had too many nights when being celibate seemed impossible. Her body out of the blue would suddenly grow hot and tight and needy. She knew the moment that happened again, she would be thinking of Remy Boudreaux and fantasizing like crazy. If she wasn’t already, she was going to turn into a lobster, terrified he could read her mind.

“Let’s go before those people in that booth over there work up their courage and come ask for your autograph,” Remy suggested.

“I promised your friend I’d sign something and have my picture taken with her husband,” Bijou said. “I need to do that before we go.”

“We’re goin’ out of here through the kitchen,” Remy decided. “And you’re goin’ to get it done fast or you’ll be starting another riot.”

She frowned at him. It was that or throw herself at him. He was so darned mesmerizing. “I certainly didn’t start a riot. But you’re right,” she had to concede with a quick, nervous glance toward the little group in the booth eyeing her. “If we don’ get movin’, we’re goin’ to be here for a long while.”

Remy threw money on the table, glided to his feet as silent and as fluid as any cat she’d ever seen. There was something feral about the way he moved, muscles playing subtly beneath his clothes. Every movement was graceful, and yet masculine.

Bijou knew she was falling further under his spell. He’d been the only man in her life that had ever counted for anything and she’d allowed him to grow into a fantasy hero. He was sixteen years older than she was and he saw her as that broken child. He had no way of knowing she’d always been too old for her age—she’d had to grow up fast and learn to be responsible.