She needed a distraction, and that meant getting away from the Inn and Remy's overwhelming scent. Sliding into her car, she turned up her music and took off driving. She was performing at her club in the evening, but she could do a little exploring and maybe give her body a little reprieve. For some reason even Remy's masculine smell sent her into a sexual meltdown.
The farther from the Inn she got, the more her body seemed to settle down and become her own. After a few miles the air didn't feel as if it was being squeezed out of her lungs, and she could breathe properly again. She heaved a sigh of relief. Even the terrible itch between her legs subsided, giving her a reprieve--hopefully for a very long time.
She found herself relaxing as she drove along the bayous. At night the roads could be spooky. She had grown up with reports of strange sightings and whispers of ghosts and legendary creatures prowling the swamps and bayous.
She almost missed the SUV pulled into the shadow of the cypress grove leading out to the water's edge. She saw it at the last moment and braked quickly, her reaction far faster than she anticipated. She was out on one of the back roads, and if the SUV had gone off the road, whoever it was wouldn't have cell service and might be in trouble. Backing up, she cautiously maneuvered her much smaller car into the grove, but well away from the water.
Again she was cautious as she stepped out of her car, suddenly aware of the absolutely remote area she was in. Edging carefully around the SUV, she immediately saw a man's suit jacket tossed carelessly on the hood. He was bent over, tying a rope to the hitch of his vehicle, using two locking carabiners for one master point to slip the rope through.
"Are you all right?" she greeted, trying not to startle him.
He straightened, swinging around to face her and relief flooded her system instantly. She hadn't realized how tense she'd been. She recognized him instantly. Arnaud Lefevre, the famous sculptor whose work was even shown in the Louvre in France. His work sold for hundreds of thousands and he was grinning at her from the shade of the cypress grove on the edge of the swamp. He was dressed in his immaculate thousand-dollar suit, white shirt and hiking boots. That was Arnaud, an eccentric, but extremely talented and versatile.
"What in the world are you doin'?" Bijou demanded. "Arnaud, you can't just come out here alone. This is a dangerous area."
"I do it all the time." He stepped forward and hugged her in welcome, kissing both cheeks before releasing her. "It's a treasure trove here for me. I discovered it years ago."
She laughed, suddenly feeling carefree. "That's so you, Arnaud. Why are you wearing a suit? This is swamp right here just in case you hadn't noticed."
He raised a black eyebrow. "Woman, I always wear a suit. You should know that. You never know who you'll meet out in the middle of nowhere and you have to look your best to impress." He took ahold of her arm. "You want to tell me what happened here?"
Bijou frowned down at her arm, carefully unwrapping the material she'd tied over the rake marks. "I don' honestly know, Arnaud."
He very gently turned her arm over. "It looks like a very large and angry cat scratched it. Did you get into a fight with another woman?"
She pulled her arm away. "That sounds so like me."
He laughed and went around her to open the passenger door. "I brought food and coffee. You up for something?"
"Sure. But what were you doin' with that rope and your hitch?" Deliberately she looked around and up, as if looking for a cliff. "We don' do a lot of climbin' in Louisiana."
"Every time I see you, I'm surprised again by your accent." He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his gray eyes sparkling with laughter. "And you climb. I'd forgotten that as well. Come with me." He pointed down to the edge of the embankment, a thirty-foot drop, with eroding rock, dirt and root structures. One tree was actually tilted, its weight over time slowly pulling it down.
She moved cautiously to the edge of the trees lining the bank and peered over the side. "Down there? Are you searching for alligators?"
Knobby cypress trees rose out of the water like giant stick figures, branches reaching like arms, moss hanging from them in drapes. The water pooled, dark and forbidding around the barren, misshapen trunks and lapped at the thin strip of a ledge only inches above the surface.
"Rocks," he said, coming up behind her, and handing her a coffee mug over her shoulder. "You take it black, right?"
She took the coffee cup, frowning at him. "Rocks?"
"For my work. I pulverize them and get a variety of subtle color as well as texture. I get them from all over. Contrary to popular belief, Louisiana has some beautiful rocks and crystals, you just have to know where to look. Just below us, along the bank, there's a vein of beautiful agate. That might not sound like much to you, but for me, the colors are perfect for my work. I don't manage to get here that often, so every time I come, I make certain to get a few rocks."
"You aren't kiddin', are you?" Bijou asked. She could hear the ring of truth in his voice, and more, he sounded boyishly enthusiastic.
"No, the rocks are beautiful in color and just the right texture for my sculptures. I don't mine much of it, just a bit each visit, so hopefully I'm not contributing to the bank eroding."
Arnaud pulled out a folding chair one-handed and opened it expertly, putting it under the shade of the cypress trees. "Sit down, drink your coffee." He pulled out a second chair and sat down beside her.
"You do know there's a killer hangin' around, don' you?" Bijou said as gently as possible. She hated to put a damper on his enthusiasm, but he had to take the warning seriously. It had never occurred to her that Arnaud Lefevre haunted the swamps looking for rocks for his sculptures. He was handsome and sophisticated with his thousand-dollar suit and hiking shoes he'd paid a fortune for. She knew he was a bit of an adventurer, but she hadn't ever considered that he might go into the swamp--especially alone.
"I read something about it," he admitted. "But what are the chances? I'm only here a few times a year and come to these places no one else knows about. There's a lot of land out here, Bijou, and I doubt that our paths would ever cross."
She scowled at him over the coffee cup. "Still, you shouldn't come here alone."
"I don't have to worry now that you're here," he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes and laughed in spite of herself. He was good company. He always had been. He was intense when he was working, his mind wholly into his art. He didn't notice anyone or anything when he was creating something new.
He leaned over and pulled at the chain, lifting the pendant--his jewelry. "This is a beautiful piece," he said, impartially, as if he hadn't been the one to create it. "I used chambersite, a rare crystal found here in this state, and ground petrified palm. I made the piece for you and I knew the one place you always called home was Louisiana, so I made certain nearly everything was from your state."
"Sometimes, Arnaud, you're so sweet you make me want to cry," Bijou said honestly. Why couldn't she be attracted to him? He was handsome. He had money in his own right--he certainly wasn't after hers. When they were together, they laughed and talked about everything. Conversations were always interesting and lively. She even relaxed in his company. He loved some of the same things she did--such as climbing. She bet he had a climbing bag with his gear in his SUV just as she had hers locked in the trunk of her car. He traveled far more than she ever would want to, but still . . . Yet there was just no chemistry between them--not on either side.
Bijou sighed. It was Remy who made her wild and crazy. It was Remy she had always trusted, even though she hadn't really known it. After her behavior last night, who knew what he thought of her.
"Tell me," he urged, leaning close. "I can see you're worried about something. I told you about my secret stash of agate and if you insist, I'll trade your worries for the location of chambersite," he teased gently.
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 r
eally, 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.