right.” She experimented with moving her wrist subtly, hoping he’d get the hint and release her so she wasn’t so aware of him physically.
“No, it isn’t,” he contradicted. “We both can’t be hotheads, Blue. You’re goin’ to have to mellow out and learn to stay calm. Stalkers and anyone puttin’ you in danger are always goin’ to be a trigger for me.”
The way he looked at her with those deep blue eyes, so focused on her, mesmerizing her, the way his thumb moved over her bare skin, sent her tumbling straight off a cliff. There was that note of humor combined with his lazy drawl that added somersaults and dizzy spins to her fall. How could she possibly ever hope to be sensible when he was so sexy without even trying?
“I refuse to believe I’m a hothead,” she said. “Now you, on the other hand, have a certain reputation.”
He nodded. “I’ve earned it, so believe it, chere. Tell me the rest.”
“Then don’ be interruptin’ me,” she said.
Bijou had the feeling the only way to save herself from her reaction to his Cajun charm was to run for her life. She must have unconsciously started to pull away from him because his fingers tightened like a shackle around her wrist, holding her still.
“Then don’ be distractin’ me,” he admonished.
It was impossible not to laugh. “I can see why Saria says you always get your way. You’re very persistent and charming at the same time.”
“Thank you.”
She shook her head. “That was not a compliment.”
He tapped the letters.
Bijou sighed. “It was the progression more than anythin’ else that scared me. I was in LA when I found the first one. Then when I moved to be closer to the university I was attendin’, I found the same thing in my underwear drawer.”
Remy sat up straighter. “He was in your house? In your bedroom?”
She nodded. It was rather humiliating to have to admit any of it. “On my underwear. The eye was drawn on a pair of lacy boy shorts with spray paint.” She felt the color creeping up her neck. There was no way to stop it.
“And you didn’t go to the police?”
His voice had gone very soft. She went still, the hair on the back of her neck raising in response to his tone. Her body recognized danger.
“The point is,” she said hastily, “in the beginning, whoever was stalkin’ me just left his silly eye in spray paint and that was the end of it. About a year ago he started addin’ messages about me sinnin’ and how I was goin’ to pay for it.”
When he started to say something she held up her hand. “This is difficult for me, Remy, so let me just get on with it. He started breakin’ into Bodrie’s properties and then those last three letters were sent by the same man, I’m certain of it. They aren’t very nice. This has been goin’ on for years with no sight of him, just that stupid eye starin’ at me. But those letters . . .” She trailed off, glancing at his set jaw.
She was trembling and knew he could feel it because his hand was wrapped around her wrist. There was nowhere to hide. “Hopefully when you read them, you’ll understand. They’re fairly graphic, and he’s definitely been watchin’ me. Everywhere I go, even in my own home. He has to be gettin’ in the house and finding a way to watch me.”
Remy’s gaze moved past her to the street and then back to her. “I want you to turn slightly to your left and look across the street. There’s a man standing on the grass over there, back behind the tree. He’s watchin’ us and has been since we entered the café. Tell me if you’ve seen him before.”
Remy had sat there, all calm and composed, never letting on, yet he’d noticed someone outside the café watching them. She’d been so wrapped up in Remy, she wouldn’t have noticed if the man had stood over her. Even now, she could barely pull her gaze from his. His eyes and voice were hypnotic. There was something feral about his unblinking stare, and she was trapped in his dangerous spell and her own hero worship.
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