Page 32 of Meet Me in Paris

The sound of the boat’s engine and the gentle, artistic, clear sound of a French soprano filled the night air as we enjoyed the view—a bright city guiding us on a black river that glistened with gold when it caught the light. Despite the windows, a slight breeze rustled my hair as it traveled from one open end of the boat to the other.

The Frenchman sat so close our knees touched. Every time I looked at him, he watched me with a tiny smile.

It felt like a dream.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said.

“Thank you. You look very nice too.” Claude wore a suit coat over a black collared shirt that hung open to expose a bare, tanned chest. His mustache and beard were meticulously trimmed as always. It seemed he took great care in every aspect of his life. Whoever married this man would be a lucky girl indeed.

Stop it,I told myself as I took another sip of champagne. Could I possibly be more obvious?

Yet he’d been nothing but a gentleman again tonight. His gaze was respectable and his conversation more so—exactly what I would have expected from a wealthy Parisian man.

Claude’s hand curled around mine. “I love it when you smile.”

I stiffened for the briefest of seconds at the sudden contact but didn’t pull away.Holding someone’s hand isn’t a marriage proposal,I reminded myself. A confirmation of attraction, perhaps, but I already knew that existed on his part. He wouldn’t have asked me on a date otherwise.

Sure, Claude watched me carefully, as if putting together the pieces of a puzzle. He asked questions as if he wanted to know me and what I wanted out of life, like any good date should. He admired my curves like any man would. So far, Claude responded exactly as I would expect a date to respond to a woman.

As for me?

His hand felt warm and pleasant in the night air. He’d been thoughtful in putting all this together for me, likely spending hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on this meal,the champagne, the entertainment, and the boat. His dress fit my ideal exactly, as did his mannerisms. I felt as if we both existed in some kind of play—he knowing his part and I knowing mine.

He lifted his glass. “A toast to you, my dear. We’ll make you a Parisian yet.”

I tipped my glass against his and took another sip. Was this the romance Mom wanted for me? A dreamlike state in which my consciousness felt a little buzz from the alcohol and the company? A night I would never forget, feeling feminine and beautiful and cherished? Because I rather liked it.

“Tell me of your childhood,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in America.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. “I grew up in a small town in the desert, where everyone knows each other. It gets so hot you spend the summer indoors or in the pool simply to survive. So I spent a lot of time in my neighbor’s pool. Hunter, the one you met.”

“That’s right. Grumpy fellow.”

“He’s fine once he gets over his hero complex,” I said, the words spilling over each other. “In second grade, he duct-taped himself to his desk in protest. Said he wouldn’t go to recess until they installed that wheelchair ramp they kept promising but never delivered on because Cassie Stevens needed it. When it came time to go home, he couldn’t get out to leave. His teacher didn’t want to encourage this behavior, so she picked him up, desk and all, and set him outside so she could go home. The janitor took pity on him and cut him loose an hour later.” I chuckled. “But the next day, there was a temporary ramp down those steps. That’s Hunter for you.”

He stared at me in confusion, and I realized I’d beenrambling on about Hunter. Why would he care about a story like that?

I took a quick sip, playing it cool.Smart, Kennedy. Drive him away as quickly as possible.

Then the server set a plate in front of me, and my stomach dropped to the bottom of the Seine.

Frog legs.

“Since you favor them, I had them brought in from my favorite restaurant,” Claude explained with a wide smile. “Far better than the atrocious ones you enjoyed last night. I think you’ll find everything better at my side.”

My contentment fled like I wanted to right now. “Wonderful. Thank you.” Inside, my stomach shouted with all the force it could muster that it would not be allowing admittance this time. “Um, I need to make room for these first. Can we dance?”

“Of course,” Claude said smoothly. He stood, still holding my hand, and pulled me gently upward.

As I stood, I immediately knew I’d had too much champagne. The world tilted a little more than it should, even on a moving boat.

Claude’s hand snaked around my lower back, steadying me. “There. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear. It sent pleasant shivers down my neck and shoulders.

He whirled me around and pulled me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder. Not out of attraction, per se, but simply because the combination of champagne and a moving boat made dancing difficult. His hands remained firmly on my waist, the world smelling like heavy cologne and soap.

Please don’t let the champagne settle,I prayed. Not tonight, of all nights.

“You are enchanting, my dear,” Claude said, turning his head to speak directly into my ear. “How lucky I was to meet you at the bottom of those steps.”

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