It was easy to sound sincere, because she really meant it. He didn’t seem like the prima donna chefs she’d met, although she noticed his kitchen staff didn’t make a move toward her, not even when he handed her his apron to sign. Someone had gotten a special pen to write on the material with and clearly that was brand-new. Emile had made certain he was prepared.

Bijou took the pen and carefully wrote a short note, praising his café and the amazing food, adding that it was wonderful to meet him and then scrawling her name under the message.

“I hope you’ll come back,” Emile said, nearly glowing.

“We need a picture,” Thereze insisted, holding up a camera.

“No, no need. I don’ want to bother you,” Emile said, but he stepped up to Bijou’s side and wrapped a long arm around her shoulders.

Bijou glanced toward the kitchen door. Thankfully no one could see them, and the flood of people asking for pictures wouldn’t come. She looked up at Remy’s face. His eyes had gone from a deep blue to a strange, startling green, almost glowing. His eyes were fixed on Emile, and he looked . . . dangerous. There was no other word for it. He looked as if he might tear Emile limb from limb.

She was suddenly afraid. He looked more animal than man, his face and body utterly still, his entire being focused on Emile. The hair on her neck stood up and something wild deep inside unfurled and stretched. She could feel the languid stretch and that same steady focus on Remy as he had on Emile. She blinked and the strange wildness in her faded, gone as if it had never been. Sometimes she felt she had faulty wiring, that elusive feeling blinking on and off.

Remy’s gaze jumped to her face. His expression softened. His eyes grew warm and he winked at her.

Her heart went into double time. There it was—the perfect reason not to trust Remy or be charmed by him. She didn’t know what just happened, but she knew what she’d seen. She was a great observer of humans, and Remy was extremely dangerous. Hidden beneath that very charming and sexy and—so okay, it had to be said—attractive, magnetic, and every other word for just plain a woman’s fantasy, was something else. She’d had her warning. It couldn’t be denied no matter how much she wanted to do it. Under the surface of her childhood hero was something dark and scary.