Page 54 of Say Yes to the Death

“Luke, let’s go to the Eiffel Tower. Please? It’s nighttime now. You promised.”

“To be honest, it’s a little overrated.” He grabbed her hand and hustled her to the sidewalk. “But everyone should see it once.”

“Mister hipster not impressed by what was once the tallest building on earth.” She smiled. The wine danced through her system and lifted her spirits. She was in freakin’ Paris. Her heels no longer bothered her. She could probably twirl the entire way to the Tower.

They passed more trees and fewer buildings. The smell of urine was undeniable, but it was at least partially masked by the delicate smells floating out of nearby patisseries.

“This bun is too tight.” One by one, she plucked bobby pins from her hair and allowed the curls to fall, wild and unbridled, down to her mid-back. Her flying elbow nearly made contact with a stranger’s chin, and Luke pulled her into his side, laying his arm around her shoulders.

“Whoops.” She giggled. “Luke, your phone is ringing.”

He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Just work again,” he said, silencing it and tucking it away.

“It’s okay for you to answer it. I know how important it is.”

“No need. Nothing is more important than what’s going on right here, right now.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head.

Warmth rushed from the tips of her fingers and toes directly to her lady parts. “What does Pete expect you to accomplish from Paris?”

A crack in the sidewalk nearly sent her sprawling.

Luke pulled her in tighter. “I’m not sure. He probably just wants to confirm my arrival date.”

“Holy crap.” Claire jolted to a halt. They had rounded a corner and entered the Trocadero Gardens. Fountains danced all around them, splashing rhythmically. The Eiffel Tower rose magnificently in front of them.

“Pete can suck it.” She grasped his arm as they walked slowly down the sidewalk, growing ever closer to the mammoth structure.

A gentleman on a park bench nearby was playing a soulful melody on a saxophone. The notes bounced off the nearby trees and benches, filling the gardens with sound.

Luke stopped and she turned to face him. One calloused hand extended to her, and she took it. He pulled her close and snaked his other hand around to the small of her back, leading her through the same dance they had practiced countless times for Nicole’s proposal in his ballroom at home.It wasn’t a perfect fit with the saxophone’s rhythm, but it was close enough.

People on the sidewalks gave them a wide berth, stepping onto the grass to avoid the dancing couple and clearly muttering Americans under their breath.

Claire laughed as Luke spun her out. She thrust her hand out to the side. He stood still for a moment, and she strutted around him, sliding her hands over his lapel and coming within a hair’s breadth of a kiss.

He pulled her in again and dipped her low, raising her back up tantalizingly slow. They widened their steps, covering the entire sidewalk. The saxophone player picked up his speed. Claire leaned into Luke with one leg cocked, and he dragged her several feet. Had she scuffed her shoes? Oh, well. She had just bought a half dozen more pairs.

Luke spun her again, gripping both her hands and locking them over her head, bringing his hands slowly, sensually, from her wrists, to her elbows, thumbs spreading to cup the sides of her body, desperately close to the curve of her breasts.

She locked eyes with him as he tugged her close. Heat radiated from him, and a longing she had never known burned in her belly.

He leaned in, tantalizingly close like the first time they’d kissed. Claire’s lips parted, begging for sweet release. This time, there wasn’t a battered copy of War and Peace waiting to smash into her skull and send her to the hospital. There were only stars above them, and if one of them plummeted to the earth, they would have a whole different problem.

Abruptly, the song ended. The saxophone hung loosely by its neck strap as the gentleman opened his instrument case. Rude.

A man with a handlebar mustache cleared his throat uncomfortably as he passed. Claire and Luke pulled apart. The spell was broken.

They were standing in grass, and one of Claire’s heels had sunk into the ground after their last dance move.

“So,” she said, attempting to wipe the dirt from her heel. “The Eiffel Tower.”

“Yeah.” He turned to look at it, buttoning the front of his suit jacket. Hopefully, he was concealing something interesting in his pants.

“These people are judging us so hard,” Claire whispered loudly to him as they continued to walk along.

“Definitely. Maybe we should really give them something to talk about.”

“Right here?” Her gaze wandered to the flash of his belt buckle. “We might get arrested.”

---