Page 47 of Say Yes to the Death

“Yes, but that’s not all. This means that you trust me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She cracked one eye open to stare up at Luke.

“It does, though. You, Claire the Great, independent, and sassy, have handed me the reins. This might be the first time it has happened.” He looked around as if this was new territory for him.

“I have merely accepted the fact that you know more about this city than I do, and I don’t want to step on your male ego by suggesting your planned activities aren’t a good enough use of our time.” She peeled herself away from him and attempted to smooth her hair, which had gone all wonky during the flight.

“You did plan activities, didn’t you?” she asked, regarding him sternly. “We’re not just going to wing it like backpacking college students taking a gap year, are we?”

“Please. It’s going to be a great day.” He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth.

She flushed in pleasure, then drew back. Did she have red-eye breath? But his warmth and presence filled and energized her. Maybe, just this once, red-eye breath didn’t matter.

“You know, you can’t just take me to Paris every time we have an argument,” she said, adjusting her backpack.

“Of course not. This is just stop number one on our apology world tour.”

“I believe what you meant to say was ‘Claire, I understand how important honesty is to you. I will not lie to you ever again, and I will make you a PowerPoint with a complete list of my family tree going back at least three generations, including footnotes that denote whether or not I am estranged from them.’”

“Honesty, got it. I’ll add it to my to do list,” he said as a taxi finally pulled up. “By the way, what did you tell your mom about the note?”

Claire frowned in silence. She had only told Alice that she was taking a trip and had omitted the reason why.

“That’s what I thought. I am sorry, though, you know. For not telling you about George. I’ll do better.”

“Family is tough,” she conceded as Luke took her bag. “I’m sorry for not being more up front about my bio-dad.”

“You’re forgiven.” He kissed her hard and fast on the mouth and tugged her into the taxi.

Claire perked up as they wound through the city. She plastered herself to the window, pointing every few moments when she saw something she recognized.

“Luke! There’s the Louvre.” She gestured at the glass pyramid. “Are we going to go there? I’ve always wanted to see the Mona Lisa.”

He smiled mysteriously. “Maybe.”

Endless storefronts flashed by, windows full of colorful macarons and fashionable clothing. Her stomach audibly growled.

Minutes later, they pulled up in front of their hotel.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as she stepped onto the cobblestone street. The tip of the Eiffel Tower was visible behind Hotel Lemont.

“I love it,” she said. Maybe it was just the little pink cylinder in her luggage, but she was practically vibrating from head to toe.

Luke tipped the taxi driver and carried their suitcases inside. She listened in wonder as he checked them in, French pouring from his mouth as naturally as English.

God, that’s sexy.

“Where did you learn to speak French?” Claire inquired as they loaded into an elevator.

It was rickety at best, and it lurched upward inch by inch. Just like the nightmare shaft in her apartment building. She instinctively tightened her wrist to draw Rosie close before remembering that she wasn’t here.

“I had a buddy in the Navy whose family had emigrated from France. We had a lot of boring, late nights together in the hospital.”

Luke put his arm around her again. His eyelashes were thick and dark, and he looked insanely sexy in his black leather jacket and jeans. Something in Claire stirred despite her near-starvation and jet lag.

“What floor is our room on?”

“Fourteen.” He glanced at the old-school arrow that currently pointed at the number 3.

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