“I’ve always been serious about him,” she admitted. In some ways it seemed a relief that she could say it out loud. “He helped me when no one else would. He stood up for me and risked his job to do it. I always thought he was everythin’ a man should be.” She shrugged. “I guess I came home to find out if the real thing was as good or better than my fantasy.”

“I hope he is,” Arnaud said. “You deserve to be happy, Bijou. I hope he keeps bodyguards around you for a long time.” He took her hand and brought it absently to his lips, bowing slightly, very old world.

Bijou turned her head as a series of flashes went off. Bob Carson stood only a few feet away, snapping pictures, one right after the other. Involuntarily and in a slight panic, she tightened her fingers on Arnaud’s arm. She hadn’t expected to see Carson after the incident in the swamp, but smelling him there wasn’t the same as proving that he’d been there.

Arnaud put up a hand to shield her from the camera, turning her quickly and walking her toward the back. He glanced over his shoulder. “You definitely have bodyguards looking out for you; they’re escorting him out. That’s got to be the one who destroyed my car and wrote all over yours. Your stalker.”

“There’s no proof, but he does scare me a little bit,” she admitted. “Who’s escorting him out? I can’t imagine him going quietly.”

She stopped to watch as Gage and Remy came up on either side of Carson. Drake stood in front of him, relieving him of the camera. When he started to protest, Remy leaned in and whispered something very softly to the man. Carson went absolutely pale. He backed up, both hands going up in the air in surrender. Drake handed Carson back his camera as he and Gage walked the photographer outside. Remy turned and looked straight at her.

Her eyes met his. All that intense glittering green. Her heart gave a jump and began to pound hard. He looked extremely handsome in a black suit and tie. His shoes were a little scuffed and his tie had already been loosened, but his jacket emphasized his wide shoulders, and to her, no one could hold a candle to him.

“Have you ever noticed he has cat’s eyes?” Arnaud asked. “Very unusual. Very focused. He doesn’t blink. He even moves like a cat. Fluid. Graceful. I wish I could capture that particular motion.”