Arnaud continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “One of the most intriguing things I noticed about the large cats was their stare. They would suddenly seem to drop into a hunting zone, and once they fixed that stare on something, they never looked away.”

Remy was nearly to them. She could smell him—his wild, masculine scent. He looked so good she wanted to fling herself into his arms, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at Arnaud. Not that Arnaud appeared to be intimidated in any way. He didn’t seem to notice the danger in the stare, saw only as an artist wanting to capture the look.

The tension heightened as Remy got right up to them, his gaze locked with Arnaud’s. Bijou wasn’t certain how to act, how to break the near hostility emanating from Remy. Few people could understand Arnaud’s obsession. Clearly he was a genius with his art, but he wasn’t interested in much else.

“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.

When the dance was over, several people clapped and Arnaud dipped her with a small smile that never quite reached his eyes. When he pulled her back up, he put his mouth next to her ear. “I have to get out of here. I need to work. I have to get to New York in a few days, so I’m running out of time and everything has set me back. This is such a waste of my time.”

“A few more minutes and I’ll give you a clear exit,” Bijou promised. She’d managed to extricate him from shows early before. “And it isn’t a waste. These people love your art and they purchase it, which enables you to make more art. Think of it that way.”

“Thanks.” Arnaud allowed her to guide him toward two men in suits. Both had very young actresses hanging on their arms. “Tell me their names again. I always forget.”

Bijou laughed and obliged. Arnaud rarely cared enough to remember someone’s name, although he had amazing business sense. He was a mixture of a dreamy child, a moody, driven, obsessed genius of an artist and a man who seemed to care nothing for the social world he had to maneuver and did so with aplomb.

They spent the next fifteen minutes talking and laughing with the two customers who were two of Arnaud’s biggest advocates and had purchased several of his most expensive and biggest sculptures. Bijou did most of the talking, but they were flattered to meet her and flirted outrageously with her. She made a show of glancing at her watch.

“I’m so sorry, but, Arnaud, you have to leave right now if you’re going to get the right light you need for your work. If you miss this opportunity, you’ll have to wait an entire month before the moon is in the right position again.”

She’d used that absurd excuse on three occasions and it always worked. If someone had heard it before, well, genius took time, and if he could only work when the moon was in a specific position, they all wanted to see his next creation so they indulged his obsessive behavior.

Arnaud brushed a light kiss along her cheek and hastily waved to the crowd, disappearing through the back to make his exit fast.

Remy swept Bijou into his arms and onto the dance floor. “You are gettin’ harder and harder to keep track of. It takes an army now.”