Page 59 of Say Yes to the Death

Luke slid onto the bench next to her and pulled her close. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?”

He eased back from her and held her at arm’s length. “Like I said last night, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You can’t promise that. And besides, you’re going to be in California soon anyway.” Anger flared inside her. Why was the idea of him leaving so upsetting? She had never needed anyone before. Not even her ex-fiancé.

“I’m not going.”

She shrugged his arm off. “Luke, you have to. This is your career, your livelihood. I won’t keep you from it. I’ll be fine. In case you forgot, I was all alone when Barney kidnapped me. He stabbed me and tortured me, and I still lived. Whatever this copycat weirdo throws at me, I can handle it. I don’t need a keeper. Just…don’t tell my mom.”

He was silent for a long minute. “I should have been there.” He wasn’t talking about breakfast.

She reached for his hand. The anger fizzled. “You were.”

“No. I was too late. You would be dead if Sawyer hadn’t shown up, and I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, I was handling myself just fine. Sawyer even said so. Sure, he tased him. But I was like fifty yards from the highway. I could have made it.” She had also passed out from blood loss and hallucinated a taco order, but still. “Are they finished up there?”

“Almost. Want to day drink and look at some fine art?”

Claire stood and offered one shaky hand to Luke. The smell of ammonia still burned in her nostrils, and her stomach churned like she was on a ship at sea. But this was Paris. This international creep would not ruin the first vacation she’d taken in years. She needed to compartmentalize what just happened and get on with the trip. There was a partially stale baguette to eat and activities to cross off the To Do list.

The note had undeniably stolen some of her enjoyment of Paris. It seemed to have affected Luke too. Even as they viewed some of the most precious works of art in the world, there was a pallor over the day. The rich brush strokes of Gustav Klimt seemed less remarkable after the threat. The Mona Lisa smiled mockingly at them. At least the wine was still good.

Claire shivered and drew her shawl around her as they stepped onto the gangway of a dinner cruise boat, one of Luke’s last surprises for the weekend. As much as she appreciated the change of scenery, she was ready to be back home and in control of her life and her daily activities again. Her ankle wobbled on the slick surface, and he steadied her. Candlelight flickered through a long row of glass windows. The stars were out again, though not as clear as the night before.

A waiter led them to a small candlelit table. Champagne bubbled in glasses. The boat hadn’t even left the dock before they both downed their first glass.

“Your phone’s ringing again.” Claire plonked her empty glass onto the table. She bristled. It must have been the fifteenth time today. Something was up, but getting information from Luke was like beating a stone wall with a dandelion.

“Sorry. Let me just turn it off.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to talk to him?” He was definitely hiding something. Again.

“It can wait.” He lifted their glasses as a waiter passed by. The dinner was already shaping up to be their second-most tense. Right after the Rachel incident.

“Really? He’s called like a thousand times.” A backlit monument slid by them, but she missed what the tour guide had named the structure.

A waiter passed by with hot hors d’oeuvres. She had no idea what she grabbed—a crab puff maybe?—but it melted in her mouth.

They sat in silence as the boat passed half a dozen landmarks. Tension radiated between them like a collapsing star. They ate their salad course wordlessly.

“Okay, this is ridiculous.” Claire slammed her fork down on the table as they approached Notre Dame. “Tell me what’s going on. I know it’s not just the note that has you so uptight.”

Luke rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I have to ask you something.”

It was about freaking time. “Okay, shoot.”

“I hate to ask you this.”

Uh-oh. What could it be? Was he going to work with Wendy on a project? Was his mother moving in with him? “We’re not having a threesome with Pete. I don’t care what he promised you.”

“It’s not that. The reason why I’ve been getting so many calls from the producers is because they want me to have one more interview before they’ll approve the funding for production, advertising, soundtrack, everything that will make a difference in how many people this will reach. It’s a big interview. You.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. She gripped her butter knife so tightly that her knuckle cracked.

“Me?” she croaked.

---