Page 55 of Say Yes to the Death

“No, not that. I think we should go star spinning.”

“Star spinning?” What the hell was that? She was not in any condition to be launched into space.

“Surely you’ve heard of it,” Luke said, eyebrows raised. Maybe it was a rich person thing.

“Is that some kind of euphemism for recreational drug use?” she probed.

He laughed. “No, it’s something I used to do when I was a kid. My brother and I did it a couple of times when we were here on vacation. I had almost forgotten about that.”

He led her out into a patch of grass and bent down on one knee.

Claire’s heart leapt into her throat. Her mind raced a mile a minute. There was no way Luke was proposing. They had only known each other for two months. This wasn’t the Middle Ages. But they were in Paris. In front of the Eiffel Tower. After sharing a borderline sexual dance. And they had already been through more than some couples go through in a lifetime together.

Was this seriously happening?

“Don’t get excited.” He threw up his hands as if to proclaim he was innocent.

Her heart dropped a centimeter. So, he wasn’t proposing. Of course he wasn’t. That would have been insane. Wouldn’t it?

“Here.” He slid his hands down the length of her shin to the buckle of her shoes.

She bit her lip. If he got any closer, the heat emanating from her neither regions was going to scorch his eyebrows off. Could he tell she was half an inch away from tackling him? She gripped his shoulders for stability. God, they were solid. What would the buttons on his shirt sound like if they were ripped from the cloth?

He fought with her shoe for a moment before tugging it free. He removed the other one and stood. Claire had shrunk several inches.

“So, how do we do this?” She tucked her shoes into her oversized purse.

“Pick a star. Any star.”

She turned her gaze upward. “Got one,” she said, zeroing in on one that was twinkling. Or was that a helicopter?

Luke walked several feet away from her, also looking up. “When I say go, keep your eyes fixed on that star. You have to spin in place for fifteen seconds, and then we’re going to try to run the rest of the way to the Eiffel Tower.”

“You want me to spin around and then run to the Eiffel Tower? What if there’s broken glass or rusty nails or cigarette butts?—”

“Claire Aurora Hartley. Where is your sense of adventure?”

A thrill ran through her at the sound of her full name on his lips. She bit her tongue. He was right. She needed this.

“Okay. Ready when you are.”

“Go!” Luke yelled. He spun clockwise like a well-dressed top.

Claire kept her eyes fixed on her star and started rotating, taking tiny steps. The hem of her dress lifted as she twirled, skirt flaring out in a wide circle. She raised her arms out to her sides, too, spinning for the sake of spinning. Her world blurred gently at the edges, trapped in a kaleidoscope of stars.

Somewhere around the count of eight, she stumbled. Her foot fell more heavily behind her, and suddenly she was staggering more than spinning.

“Luke—”

“Keep going, just a few more seconds! Aaaand run!”

Luke stopped mid-spin and took off in the direction of the Eiffel Tower.

“Oh no,” Claire said. She had stopped spinning, but the world hadn’t. She ran forward at a drunken tilt, arms flailing out to either side of her. All she had to do was aim for the giant, glowing steel structure. But one side of her body seemed heavier than the other, and it was dragging her straight for a fountain.

“Luke!”

She tripped over something in the grass and came down hard onto her knees. She rolled over and lay still, staring up at the stars that had betrayed her. They spun stubbornly above her. The fountain tinkled pleasantly in the background. Partially dead grass poked at her legs.

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