“Remy never thought you were haughty,” Saria denied. “He always seemed to be your staunchest supporter.”

Bijou tried not to react to Saria’s disclosure, but it was nice to know Remy had remembered her even during her teenage years. She’d felt very much alone during that time. Only Saria had ever really been a friend to her. Saria had no desire to meet Bodrie. She understood the concept of growing up on her own. Her brothers were grown and mostly out of the house and her father had stayed drunk most of the time. It seemed natural for the girls to gravitate toward one another.

It had been the first time in her life that Bijou had experienced true friendship. She’d been leery at first, not trusting Saria’s motives, but Saria had been so laid back, disappearing for days on end into the swamp. She had never pursued the friendship, never tried to push herself on Bijou. Bijou found herself drawn to the girl who seemed the exact opposite of her. Saria was a wild child, defiant and independent. Bijou always tried to fit in and not be noticed. Saria couldn’t care less what others thought of her, while Bijou seemed to be easily hurt by the things her classmates, teachers and the press said.

“You two ladies ready?” Drake asked and then stopped, whistling. “I get to take out the two most beautiful women in New Orleans.”

Saria beamed at him. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “You clean up nice, Drake Donovan.”

Bijou took his other proffered arm. “I have to agree with Saria. You look amazin’, Drake.”

He flashed her a smile. He looked very different than the man who yesterday had been pacing and snarling and raking claws over Robert Lanoux’s face. No one would ever suspect that Drake was anything but a gentleman. When he looked at Saria, his features softened, his eyes held the light of love and there seemed to be no trace of that dangerous, lethal animal.

Bijou was caught spellbound by that look. She recognized it on Drake’s face, in his eyes, his expression, so why hadn’t she recognized it on Remy’s face? She memorized every bone, his strong jaw, all that luxurious dark hair spilling so carelessly into his amazing green eyes. Sometimes just looking at him made her feel as if she was free-falling off a cliff, and too far gone to save herself.

But that look she was seeing on Drake’s face, the intensity when he looked at Saria, was there on Remy’s face when he looked at her. For a moment the breath rushed out of her lungs and she just stood there, frozen, unable to move, shocked at the miracle that had been in front of her all along.

“Bijou?” Saria’s voice sounded far away. “Are you all right?”

Remy really was in new territory. He didn’t have a clue any more than she did—well, that wasn’t strictly true. He had a lot of experience, obviously, in areas she didn’t, but the emotions were as new to him as they were to her.

“I’m fine,” she answered. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years.

“Is Remy going to try to join us tonight?” Drake asked.

There was a hint of laughter in his voice as if he was teasing her. She did her best to look stern. “I doubt it. He’s been swamped at work and he hasn’t been to bed in over twenty-four hours. If he has any time he’ll be sleepin’.”

Drake nudged Saria. “Remy is going to be sleeping while Bijou, dressed in that very flattering formfitting gown, is hanging on the arm of another man. Just out of curiosity, do you want to place a little wager on that?”

Bijou laughed. “I’m not about to put money down on guessing what that man may or may not do. He’s unpredictable.”

Drake escorted the two women down the sweeping staircase and out to the car. “If there’s one thing I know about Remy, it’s his being predictable when it comes to you, Bijou. Don’t ever kid yourself. He’s not leaving you alone with another man.”

“He knows Arnaud is just a friend.”

Drake groaned as he opened the door for her. “Why is it women insist on saying that?”

Bijou slid into the car with great dignity. “Because women have evolved, and they can be friends with men who are not lovers.”

Drake snorted his derision as he opened the door for Saria. “We’re talking leopards, first of all, and we’re very territorial, and secondly, men haven’t evolved and they aren’t going to.”

Saria and Bijou laughed as Drake stalked around the car, looking more leopard than human as he moved with his usual fluid grace. They laughed harder as he slammed the door closed and started the car.

“I hope his temper isn’t quite as bad as yours over the subject of men and women being friends,” Bijou said.

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Poor woman. You have no idea about that man, do you? You probably are suffering from the illusion that he’s sweet.”

“He is sweet,” Bijou professed.

“Remy has the foulest-tempered leopard of any one of us. And when it comes to you, the way he looks at it is, there are no men who want to be your friends. They’re all rivals.”

Bijou shook her head. “I think you both blame all of your nonsense on leopards.”

Saria burst out laughing again. She nudged her husband. “She has a point there. Remy loves to blame his leopard when he gets all snarly.”

Drake shrugged. “Go ahead, you two, but I notice, neither one of you are putting your money against me. Remy’s going to show up.”

The gallery lights sparkled in the light drizzle, spilling out onto the street along with the music and laughter from inside as they drove up to Arnaud’s showing. Bijou was pleased to see the gallery was packed as expected. Arnaud was world-renowned, his sculptures considered some of the greatest in the modern world.