“Look at his eyes, Bijou. They’re perfection.” Arnaud didn’t have the least idea he might upset anyone with his comments either. He acted as though Remy couldn’t hear him, that he and Bijou were having a private conversation. “Tiger eyes? What do you think? Leopard? Lion? Not lion. Amazing. And his bone structure is nearly as perfect as yours, although male, of course.” The words tumbled over one another. “I don’t know how I could have missed this the other day when he rescued us.” He looked around almost helplessly. “I need my pad and pencils.” He scowled. “There are too many people in here, Bijou. Can you get rid of them? I need to sketch him.”

She caught both of Arnaud’s shoulders in a tight grip. She’d seen him like this before, and it took a lot to bring him out of his nearly mesmerized state. “Arnaud. Look at me. Look at me right now.”

His eyebrows came together and it took a moment for him to acknowledge her. He blinked rapidly and then looked around him as if coming out of a trance.

“We’re goin’ to dance now and then we’ll talk to a few more people. After that, I’ll get you out of here,” she promised. “You can sketch Remy’s face and eyes later if you still want to.”

She sent Remy a quick look from under the sweep of her lashes hoping he would understand and cooperate. Arnaud could not walk out on his own show. He would not be nice to his customers if he forgot what he was supposed to be doing and disappeared back into his world of art. Arnaud was capable of simply retreating from reality, living in his art and what he was creating. These showings were important to his career, but they took a terrible toll on him.

“I’m just goin’ to get a drink,” Remy said. “I’ll be dancin’ with you before we go home, Blue. Nice to see you again, Mr. Lefevre.”

Arnaud, still a little distracted, inclined his head as Bijou led him away. Arnaud was a wonderful dancer. He was good at anything he did when he decided it was something he wanted done. She slipped into his arms, smiling a little at the absolute correctness of his dancing style. He knew ballroom and his frame was always exact. He never held her too close or rubbed his body against hers. He danced beautifully, moving her with absolute confidence from one step to the next, so perfectly others stepped back to watch them. He always made her feel as if they were floating through the clouds, he was that light on his feet. He rarely talked when they danced, but he did manage to make her feel like a princess in a fairy tale as he moved her over the floor to the symphony of music.