She stepped forward—into his space. His leopard ripped at him. His body tightened until he almost felt sick with need. He actually flexed his fingers, his palms itching to run over all that glorious skin. Lavender engulfed him, nearly drove him out of his mind. She extended her hand.

“Bijou Breaux.”

Self-preservation or white knight? He detested hurting her. She’d been hurt by enough people. Silently he cursed. He couldn’t stand seeing that small flash of hurt, not associated with him. He was going to race to the rescue and let her know he hadn’t forgotten her.

“I don’ forget faces, Bijou,” he admitted. Or eyes like hers. What the hell had happened to her in the growing phase? Her mouth should be outlawed. “Of course I remember you.” He took her outstretched hand and knew instantly it was a mistake to make physical contact. “It’s nice to see you again.” Damn. How absolutely mundane was that? He couldn’t take a step, his body hurting like hell, his leopard roaring at him.

Her hand was small, fingers slender, slightly trembling as she shook his hand—or attempted to. He placed his other hand over hers, holding her still, locking her to him while his eyes searched hers. Her lashes came down immediately, hiding her thoughts from him. She definitely had trust issues.

“Are you visitin’, or back with us?” He didn’t let go of her hand, waiting for her answer. His body went still, watchful, his cat coiled, every muscle locked and ready.

“I bought a club in the French Quarter. I’m home for good.” She smiled at him, a brief flash of perfect white teeth. “It’s difficult to stay away. I think the bayou gets in our blood and just doesn’t let go.”

Her voice stroked his body with caressing fingers. He felt her touch right through his veins so that his blood surged hotly and his cock jerked hard. He let her go to keep from pressing her palm on that throbbing, burning hard-on that wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“But you’re not stayin’ at the Breaux estate?” Hell. He had to keep the conversation going because he couldn’t move. He was grateful there were no lights on.

“I’d rather burn that place down then ever set foot in it again.”

That smoky velvet tone didn’t go with the words at all. It took him a moment to assimilate what she’d actually said, he was too busy trying to tame his wild craving for her. He told himself she was a baby. A kid. He was a damned pervert even thinking about her, let alone losing control and nearly throwing her up against a wall.