She cut him off. “Don’t say another word to me right now.” She actually held up her hand to stop him. “For your information, lookin’ hot and relyin’ on your charm only carries you so far. Bein’ good-lookin’ doesn’t give you a free pass to be a . . . a . . .”
“Jackass,” Mahieu supplied helpfully.
Bijou nodded her head. “Thank you, Mahieu. That fits perfectly.”
Several of the detectives coughed hard, turning their backs on their boss. Mahieu bowed. Bijou marched toward his brother, turning her back completely to him. She had a really nice sway to her hips that caught his eye.
“Mahieu would you mind givin’ me a lift back to the Inn?”
That was enough. “If you value your life and don’ want me spendin’ the rest of mine behind bars, Mahieu, you’ll politely decline,” Remy warned. He’d already grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it, as he trailed behind Bijou.
Mahieu held up both hands in surrender. “When he’s like this, it’s best to just give him whatever he wants, Bijou.”
She gave a little delicate sniff, but didn’t turn around and didn’t protest. Deliberately, Remy put his hand possessively on her back, down low, close to the curve of her buttocks. She glanced at him over her shoulder, but she kept walking. He heard the wave of laughter rippling behind him as they walked out.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he demanded, moving up beside her, sliding her beneath his shoulder, one arm wrapping around her waist.
“A little bit, yes,” she admitted, a hint of laughter in her voice. “But you deserved it.” The amusement faded from her voice. “Never talk to me like that again. I don’ like to be ordered around. Even if I’m pregnant, doesn’t mean I want to run off and marry a man who just likes havin’ me around for great sex.”
“At least you admit it is great sex,” he muttered.
Clearly she found him attractive and even amusing, that was true, but she wasn’t conceding an inch. Bijou Breaux was not as easily charmed as he’d first thought she would be. He was older. More experienced. She definitely looked up to him and yet, she was elusive, just out of reach. Every time he thought he had her wrapped up, she found a way to elude him. Quite frankly, it was maddening.
Bijou didn’t respond but went with him to his car. He opened the door and she slid inside. For a moment his heart pounded hard just looking at her sitting there. Composed. Beautiful. His. He had never really considered that he’d find the woman. She stared straight ahead, her little nose in the air. Damned if he didn’t even find that cute. He’d never admit it to Gage, but maybe he really did have “it” bad. He just wasn’t going to define what “it” was, not now. Not yet. He needed time to figure a few things out.
Like what the hell he was going to do with her when they weren’t having sex. Maybe lock her up somewhere where he knew she’d be safe, because as it was, it seemed like every person he met was bent on causing her harm in some way.
He stalked around to the driver’s side door, noting Bob Carson was down the street with a camera, clearly using a lens that would bring Bijou close. He considered how many years he might get in prison for “accidentally” running the fool over with his car. He slammed his door with unnecessary violence, earning him a look from Bijou.
He started the engine and indicated Carson with his chin. “You know, you do need rescuin’ whether you want to believe it or not.”
She made a face at him. “I’m not a wimp, Remy, no matter what you believe.”
“I believe half of New Orleans is tryin’ to kill you and the other half wants to go to bed with you.”
Her mouth twitched and she covered her lips with her palm, coughing delicately and then clearing her throat several times.
Remy glared at her. “Woman, you’d better not be laughin’ at me.”
“Just a little. I think you take your job far too seriously. Bein’ a homicide detective has made you a little bit paranoid, Remy. Yes, this situation with these murders is bizarre, but you said yourself if he wanted me dead, he would have already gone after me.”
A growl rumbled through his chest. Usually that was more than sufficient to stop any arguing from his siblings or fellow detectives. She simply raised an eyebrow, not looking very intimidated.
“The serial killer is probably the only one not out to get you,” he groused.
“Don’ sound so happy about it,” Bijou said.
He reached out and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. It seemed a small victory when she didn’t pull away from the contact. He took the gesture a step further and locked her hand against his heart. “Is that what you think, Blue? I’m in it just for the sex?”
She turned her head then and looked at him, hunching a little, as if he’d struck a body blow. Her amazing blue eyes always sent an electrical charge sizzling through his body. She blinked, drawing his attention to her impossibly long lashes. Before he drove straight into the bayou, he forced his gaze back onto the road.
“You jump around in the conversation, Remy. I’m havin’ trouble keepin’ up.”
“No, you aren’t. Now you’re just stallin’. I told you a long time ago, chere, you’re no coward, and it’s time you just told me what was upsetting you. I’m gettin’ the feelin’ you think our relationship is about sex and nothing else.”
He glanced at her again and just before her long lashes veiled her expression, he caught a flash of pain in her eyes. Instantly he felt as if a giant hand squeezed his heart hard. Upsetting her was one thing, but genuine pain was another. He didn’t like ever being the cause of that. She’d had enough pain in her life and he would bet his last dollar she was facing more.
He was positive her agent and his murky friend were up to no good. And he knew Bob Carson was. The man followed her everywhere taking photographs and selling out her privacy. He couldn’t yet prove that Carson was stalking her and destroying her property, even frightening her, but he would find the proof. She knew all three men, had known two of them for years, and it would hurt to find out that they really cared nothing for her . . .