Leopard's Prey - By Christine Feehan Page 0,115

picture at all. He leaned toward her, his eyes locking with hers. “We’ll be able to handle it, Blue. There’s no more ‘I’ here. If you think you’re walkin’ out on me, you can just think again. In fact, set a damn weddin’ date and let’s just get it over with. Talk to your idiot lawyers, I’ll sign whatever prenup they want signed, but we’re gettin’ it done soon. And when I say soon, I mean no more than a couple of weeks.”

She scowled at him, her eyebrows emphasizing her complete disgust. Both hands went to her hips. She stalked to the door, yanked it open and turned back. “Remy Boudreaux, you don’ have a single romantic bone in your body and I’m ignorin’ everything you just said and might say from now on. In fact, it would be better if you just didn’t speak.”

The entire bull pen turned around, including Mahieu. His brother was the only one who dared to grin.

“Blue . . .” Remy started.

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,

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