Page 9 of Meet Me in Paris

Jillian cocked her head. “Are you sure? Because you look ready to fall over. This is unusually spontaneous for you.”

“I’m sure. Alexis is hard to crack. If this is important to her, I’m doing it.” I gave my shoulder bag a tug to make sure it was secure. I’d packed it to the brim with our passports and files with printouts of addresses and schedules. If anything went wrong on this trip, it wouldn’t be for lack of planning.

Jillian examined me for a long moment. Then she pulled me in for a quick hug. “Thank you,” she whispered into myear. “I appreciate that you’re trying. I know how you feel about what she did.”

HowIfelt? I thought we both felt the same. Was the trip changing her already?

“Of course,” I finally said, and forced a smile. “Sisters forever.”

Three flights down, I remembered how much I hated the wordspontaneous.

The stairs swam in my vision, blurring into each other in my sleep-deprived exhaustion. It took all my mental power to put one foot in front of the other. Perspiration dripped down my chest, and I found myself breathing hard, trying to keep up with my athletic sister who somehow always seemed a flight ahead. Good thing we weren’t racing. Or did she think we were? Hard to tell with Alexis.

I hurried to catch up, sliding sideways to pass a couple descending leisurely like I should be doing.

“Excuse me, sorry,” I said to an older woman I accidentally bumped into and who muttered some French I didn’t understand. So much for my four years of high-school French.

The flights seemed to go on forever. And ever. Every time I turned a corner, I hoped it would be the last. But no. The elevator passed us several times, and I knew Jillian would be waiting at the bottom. They both would. Why hadI agreed to this again? I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of Alexis now.

My brain felt dizzy, and my legs shook. I knew better than to do physical things like this after so little sleep. But the ground did seem closer, so I must be making progress. These metal steps couldn’t last forever. If my brain and legs could work together just a little longer, I’d be golden.

I made one last turn and saw the exit below. Finally. Almost there. If I could . . . just . . .

My foot didn’t quite clear the previous step, and I tripped. Suddenly, the world spun. Pain exploded in my knee as I landed, and I tried to catch myself as I tumbled, step after step.

All at once, everything came to a stop.

I found myself lying on the ground, looking up at a mass of gray metal with yellow accents . . . and a handsome Frenchman with a trimmed goatee, earnest brown eyes, and a brown shirt beneath his gray suit jacket. An interesting color combination, but it totally worked for him. I must have landed right at his feet.

He said something in French, then saw my confusion and switched to English. “Are you all right?”

An existential question, really. Were any of us all right?

You hit your head, Kennedy. Get it together.

With a groan, I managed to push myself into a sitting position. The man knelt in front of me, lowering his head to gaze into my eyes. I suddenly realized I was splayed across the base of the steps, skirt and all.

Oh no. Had he seen my underwear? This was my worst nightmare come true.

“I think I’m okay,” I managed.

The stranger grabbed my arms and lifted me to my feet.As he did, the world snapped into sharp focus. This was no dream. The handsome Frenchman looked me up and down, searching for injuries.

Maybe not such a nightmare after all.

Then he smiled, satisfied I wasn’t seriously hurt. “Every man hopes a beautiful woman will land at his feet, but that was a more dramatic entrance than most. May I escort you to get medical help?”

I looked up the flight of stairs I’d just tumbled down and rubbed my backside. I’d have quite the colorful collection of bruises tomorrow, but everything seemed to be working. “My pride is the only thing truly injured. Thank you, though.”

“You’re most welcome. Before I take my leave, may I help you find your companions? I hesitate to leave you alone.”

Then don’t,I wanted to tell him.Just stay here and talk to me forever, you beautiful French hero.

“My sisters are around here somewhere, but I’ll find them soon enough.” I smiled, hoping I looked somewhat presentable. “I’m Kennedy Travell, from Arizona.”

“Claude Boucher.” He pulled out a business card and placed it in my hand. “At your service as long as you grace our beautiful city.”

Aww. The guy certainly knew how to talk to a girl. I looked at the card, grateful it was in English, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re a real estate agent? Actually, I’ve been thinking of moving here.”

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