“Because I know a thing or two about makin’ a public statement.” His hand slipped to her throat, and he lowered his head that scant few millimeters to her mouth.
Time stopped for her. The ground under her feet shifted. His mouth came down on hers, his lips moving, teasing, teeth nipping at her bottom lip so that she gasped. Instantly his tongue swept inside, tangling with hers, taking command. He led her right over a cliff where there was no way back. Lights danced at the back of her eyes and her body seemed to melt against his. He was the one who broke the kiss, slowly easing back, kissing the corners of her mouth before lifting his head.
She blinked rapidly, trying to come back down to earth when she’d been soaring across the sky just moments earlier. Taking a breath, Remy’s hands steadying her, she glanced around, hoping for a rescue. Her body didn’t feel her own anymore. He’d laid claim to her and all he’d done was kiss her.
Blinking again, she focused on the buildings across the street. Two cars were parked close together and both had cameras sticking out of the windows. A man stood in the street with a professional camera. She recognized him as one of the men who often followed her and took candid shots for tabloids. His name was Bob Carson and he often made her life miserable. Ryan Cooper had draped himself against a tree and he glared at her.
“Remy,” she hissed, stiffening. “You’re goin’ to be in the tabloids and on the Internet and everywhere else. Are you crazy?”
“It’s called making a statement, and I think I just did that. In a matter of minutes gossip and rumors will be spreadin’ like wildfire not just through New Orleans, but everywhere. I’m countin’ on those videos going up.”
He looked so self-satisfied she wanted to smack him. “You have no idea what you’ve done. People are goin’ to think . . .” She trailed off, pressing a hand to her mouth. He had no idea the firestorm he just brought down on himself.
“Exactly.” Smug satisfaction and male amusement.
Bijou shook her head. “Remy, you don’ want the tabloids comin’ after you. They’ll follow you everywhere and say horrible things about us—and you. They could put your job in jeopardy. They’ll try hacking your phone and bugging your house. Nothin’ in your life will be sacred or off limits. I don’ want that for you.”
He took her hand, ignoring her. “Let’s go inside.”
“Remy, you aren’t listenin’ to me. I’ve consulted professionals about stalkers and you could have just set yourself up as a target . . .” She trailed off, understanding flooding her chaotic mind. He’d kissed her, not because he’d wanted to, but because he knew the paparazzi was there and would publish a picture of the two of them. He’d deliberately set himself up and made a complete fool of her in the process.
She stiffened. “I’m leavin’.”
“You’re goin’ inside where cameras aren’t going to catch that foul little temper of yours,” Remy said, reaching past her to open the door. He thrust her inside. “We can talk about this when we’re alone.”
Bijou glared at him, waiting until he had closed the door. “I don’ need savin’, Remy. I’m not that eight-year-old child anymore, just in case you hadn’t noticed. You can quit being the white knight chargin’ around trying to save me.”
He grinned at her. “I noticed, Blue. I wouldn’t have been kissing that eight-year-old like I just kissed you.” He looked past her, his smile widening. “Eulalie, so good to see you.”
Bijou let out her breath and turned around to face the owner of the store. Eulalie Chachere was absolutely beautiful with flawless, dark skin and chocolate eyes with feathery lashes. She was tall, with an amazing figure and made Bijou feel like the little kid Remy had just reduced her to.
“Have you come for a love potion, Remy?” Eulalie teased and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on first one cheekbone and then the other.
Bijou’s breath hissed out of her. Her fingers flexed. Ached. Her nail beds hurt. Her jaw felt as if someone had punched her. Eulalie’s form swam in front of her eyes, shimmering like a heat wave, red and yellow images.
Remy kissed Eulalie’s cheek and then firmly put her to one side, keeping his body between Bijou’s and the voodoo priestess. He reached for Bijou’s hand, his fingers soothing the aches running down the back of her hand to her fingers. He rubbed her knuckles gently, although he didn’t look at her, which, she decided, was a good thing. Fury burned through her for no apparent reason. She had a visceral reaction to Eulalie so intimately and blatantly touching Remy as if they were old friends—or lovers.
“I don’ think a love potion will be necessary . . . yet,” Remy said. “We’ll see. I may come beggin’ later.”
Bijou ran her tongue over her teeth. Remy sounded like such a flirt. Clearly he flirted with every woman he came near. Unexpectedly she wanted to claw and rake at him—or Eulalie. She couldn’t decide who would be the best target.
Remy’s hand tightened around Bijou’s and he stepped close to her—so close the heat from his body washed over her. She could feel strength flowing through him. His fingers bit into her hand. She glanced at him. His eyes had gone that strange green, nearly glowing. He shook his head, an almost imperceptible movement as he brought his mouth close to her ear. “Just breathe.”
“I’m glad you called ahead, Remy,” Eulalie continued, clearly unaware of the tension in the room. “I was about to leave for a couple weeks. I put off traveling until tomorrow so I could look at this for you. Is it the same man that was killing a few years ago when you brought me the photographs to look at?”
Bijou was aware of everything in the room. The position of each item. Scents. The windows. She knew someone else lurked in the back room behind the veil of beads—a man, and he was somehow connected to Eulalie. Her scent was all over him. Sounds were acute, so much so that she could hear conversations outside the shop and knew that several fans as well as a couple of paparazzi were outside waiting.
Remy’s pressure on her hand kept her grounded and she forced her lungs to work. In and out. That strange, elusive wildness unfurled, stretched and retreated, leaving her feeling limp and wrung out. What in the hell was wrong with her? She’d always been accused of being moody, but now she really was. Moody. Edgy. In desperate need of sex. Her skin itched, felt too tight on her body, and she could feel the beginnings of a bad headache.
Remy dropped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her close to him. As much as one minute ago she had wanted to claw his eyes out; now she just felt grateful that he was there, holding her up. She was going to have to go back to her therapist. Her emotions were all over the place.
“I believe he’s the same man, Eulalie,” Remy answered the voodoo priestess, keeping her attention centered on him. “Did you take a look at the photographs?”
Eulalie frowned. “If this is the same man, he’s evolved as far as his altar from several years ago, but he is not a true practitioner.”
“Clearly he’s practicing black magic, summoning demons to aid him, right?”
Eulalie smiled at him. Bijou couldn’t help noticing how the rows of long braids emphasized her beautiful cheekbones and the way her smile lit up her dark eyes. “You’ve been reading. I suspect he’s reading as well, but he’s never gone to a practitioner before. He’s mixing things up. His altar is far better than a few years ago, I’ll give him that.”