She flashed him a smile. No way was she going to tell anyone about her wanton uncharacteristic behavior with Remy. She shrugged. “My manager is really, really angry with me. I can’t really blame him.” That was strictly the truth, so she didn’t feel too bad misleading him. She pushed back the stray strands of hair that had pulled free of her braid and were annoying her by falling into her face. She really should have dried it before she left the Inn. It would be a mess for the show. “I made up my mind not to tour anymore. I want to settle here and just sing in my club and record in the studio. I’ll be makin’ considerably less money.”

“So will he, I take it,” Arnaud summed up the problem quickly. He sat back in his chair, his gaze on her face. “Have I met him? Rob something, right?”

She nodded. “Rob Butterfield. You met him briefly in New York when I went to one of your shows. I feel bad about not touring, but I just don’ want that life anymore. He says I’m selfish and only thinkin’ of myself.” She sighed. “It’s probably true too, but I honestly couldn’t live that life anymore. I’m not cut out for the spotlight. I don’ like it. Don’ get me wrong, I love music and I have to sing, that part makes me happy, but all the rest . . .” She broke off, looking at the artist a little helplessly.

Outsiders looking at her life always thought she had it made. She had a famous father. All the money in the world. She could do anything she wanted. She had a voice that was a blend of smoke and fire according to all the critics, and she could draw thousands to a concert and easily sell over a million albums almost within the first week she put her recordings out. Outsiders would say, what the hell was wrong with her. That was her manager. Keep working. Keep going, no matter how unhappy the lifestyle made her.

Arnaud leaned close and laid his hand on her wrist, smiling at her. “In the end, Bijou, you must do what is right for you. This is a place I come to visit because it inspires me, but I couldn’t live here all year-round. The mosquitoes alone would drive me to drink.”

He laughed at himself, making her smile.

“I enjoy New York. The nightlife, the way the city makes its own music. I feel inspired there. I enjoy Paris, and believe it or not, Istanbul. I like to travel and see the world, but in the end, my studio is where I need to be.”

“Do you have secret places you get rocks everywhere you go?” she teased.

“Of course.” He finished off his coffee. “How about you come rock hunting with me?”