Chapter 17

Claude procured an entire dinner boat tour just for us. Not even a small one—a full-sized fifty-seater complete with two dozen other empty tables. We sat alone next to the windows on the main level, not far from the stairs leading to the open deck.

Even more amazing, a woman in a red, off-the-shoulder dress sang songs in French with a white-bearded man on an electric guitar accompanying her from his plastic chair. A server stood behind Claude’s shoulder, leaning over as they discussed something in French. This huge production probably felt a little cheesy for a Paris citizen annoyed by the constant barrage of foreign tourists. But he’d put it together because he knew I would like it, and I found it utterly and completely charming. Maybe even romantic.

Claude ordered for us and even poured the champagne while we enjoyed course after course. I reminded myself to sip the champagne slowly, feeling drunk with happiness.

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 been rambling 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.”

I lifted my head so I could look at him. “I was the lucky one.” If only Mom could see me now, swaying in the arms of some handsome, rich Frenchman on the Seine. She would say I deserved this, that I shouldn’t run from it. So would Jillian. Heck, even Alexis would be jealous right now.

Really, the only person who would remotely think I shouldn’t be here was Hunter, and, strangely, he was the one I wanted to see this most of all.

Claude rested his face against mine and breathed in deeply. “I fear you have me under a spell, madame. Yet I’ve no wish to free myself from it.”

“Me either.”

So articulate, Kennedy, I chided myself. Simply agreeing with everything he said made me feel like an airhead, yet I couldn’t think straight enough to be witty. I could only stand here, leaning on him, shifting my weight back and forth and grinning like an idiot. I should be making conversation, hooking him so our relationship lasted beyond tonight. Getting to know him more deeply. Ensuring there would be a second—third?—date tomorrow that checked another item off the romance list.

Were two days with Claude enough time to finish the list in its entirety? Or would I have to put it on hold until I returned?

And then what ? my annoying, too-logical brain shot back. Once you finish the list, will you stay in Claude’s arms ?

The thought made me frown. Did I mean to use this man to fulfill a number of surface-level romantic fantasies and then dump him? Yet somehow, I couldn’t imagine staying with him forever. He didn’t seem like the forever type. He felt like “here today, gone tomorrow.” Like Dad. A whirlwind romance followed by a romantic hangover. A river full of rapids that ended at a waterfall, to use Jillian’s metaphor.

The thought bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Claude stopped swaying and lifted a hand to gently brush aside my hair, which had gotten a little messy from resting my head on his shoulder. He softly trailed a finger along the side of my face and beneath my chin to lift it. Suddenly our faces were inches apart.

“I wish to taste your lips,” he whispered.

Taste your lips ? I practically giggled. Was this really happening?

“I wish you would,” I said in my deepest, huskiest voice. Jillian would be proud.

He swept me deeper into his arms and planted his mouth on mine. His lips felt wetter than I expected, and our rhythm felt off, but I was kissing a Parisian. On the Seine. In a pretty dress. It couldn’t get more romantic.

Though his breath didn’t smell as good as I’d hoped after the onion soup we’d just consumed. Which meant mine didn’t either. Should I have brought some minty gum?

“Enchanting,” Claude said again, giving me another quick kiss. “Our tour is almost over. I don’t wish our night to end.”

The pain in my stomach intensified, and now my chest burned.

Oh, no. This was not the time for my body to betray me. I ordered my stomach to wait until I got home.

“Perhaps we can find somewhere else to go, where we can be alone,” he whispered in my ear.

My stomach seemed to have its own ideas despite my orders. “Does this boat have a restroom?” I blurted out. “I need to use it really quick.”

Clearly not the response he expected. “I’m afraid the restroom is being renovated.”

I looked around but didn’t see anything but stairs and an upper level with chairs.

“Are you all right?” Claude asked, looking concerned.

Fire in my chest flared.

Oh no.

I pulled away and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I have to?—”

Too late.

A massive belch ripped from my throat.

And it did more than rip. It exploded from my belly and very soul like a train slamming into another train and then getting hit by a falling airplane.

As kids, Hunter and I held belching contests, and I managed to win the last few times before he became a poor sport and nixed them completely. But none of those burps compared to this. With the offending air finally gone, I felt withered like a raisin.

Claude looked at me in disbelief.

I looked at him in horror.

We stood there, staring at one another for a long moment. The musicians behind us stopped their music and froze. I could only imagine their bewilderment at this American who’d gotten a little drunk and burped like a cowboy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they threw me overboard, dress and all.

Claude’s mouth spread into a smile, and he laughed .

I looked at the musicians in confusion, but they followed his lead and laughed as well. At me, the silly American .

My face flamed.

“I apologize,” I said again. I could barely stand, the boat danced about so much. Yet the city outside didn’t seem to move at all. The moment was long gone, and I doubted it would be returning anytime soon. The burps, however, would. “I wonder if you could take me home, Claude.”

“Are you ill? We may be able to find a pharmacy open this late.”

How could I explain I’d forgotten about my, um, tiny little issue with champagne? “No, I’m fine. I just need to go home.”

“Are you certain? Your trip is so short, and we don’t have much time together.”

I’d just belched like the world was ending, yet he kept making comments about spending more time with me? Either he was deeply and truly in love, which I doubted after having a total of three conversations with him, or . . .

Oh.

I examined the guy, his resistance finally raising suspicion in my overtired and slightly buzzed mind. “Why were you at the Eiffel Tower that day?”

There was a slight pause. “I was there to meet someone.”

I barely knew the guy, yet I could spot the lie immediately. “That’s how you get clients. You hover around tourist hotspots.”

He blinked. “I can sense this offends you, but it is completely normal when you work with international clients.”

“And international girlfriends?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip the way Mom always did. “Do you meet them there too? Or are they one and the same? ”

He gave a big, overdone shrug. His voice held a healthy dose of defensiveness. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

At once, I put it all together. His hints about not wanting the night to end and going somewhere to be alone. I wasn’t the type to “see how far this could go” on the first date, but it seemed he was.

I wasn’t even surprised. This entire operation felt too practiced, too contrived to be spontaneous. Too fake to be real. Just like the man himself.

“Claude,” I said firmly. “I want you to take me home right now.”

He hesitated, then said, “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

His smile still held amusement as he guided me to the exit, but I detected a hint of irritation in his eyes.

Yep. I’d nailed him exactly.

As we descended the gangplank, I saw his car waiting at the curb. The ground felt comforting and stable as I made my way toward it. But as Claude opened the door, I reconsidered. “Actually, my hotel is pretty far out of your way, so I’ll just find a taxi. Text me tomorrow?” I walked past the car and started striding down the sidewalk.

“There are no taxis this late!” Claude protested, but I kept walking. I didn’t want to sit next to the guy, much less trust him to take me home. For all the practice he had, he wasn’t even a good kisser.

Just then, a car sped toward us and slammed to a stop at the curb next to me.

A hundred possibilities flashed through my mind, none of them good in a dark city this time of night. I took a few steps back even as Claude hurried after me, still sputtering about the lateness of the hour .

Great. Had Claude hired a backup car? Would I need to fight my way free of this guy?

The driver’s side door swung open, and I took yet another step back, zipping my purse open. I had no keys to stab anyone with, and obviously I had no pepper spray. I imagined myself wielding my four-inch heels like a weapon and winced. How much damage could a pair of safety pins, a hairband, and my driver’s license do? I’d taken a short karate class my sophomore year. At least the slit of my dress was high enough that I had the freedom to kick.

But to my amazement, out of the car slid Hunter.

He stalked over to his passenger side and yanked the door open. “Get in.” He looked furious.

I gaped at him. Where had he even come from?

Claude, scowling, seemed less surprised. “I will take her home, monsieur .”

“No, I will take her home.” Hunter stared Claude down as if hoping the man would put up a fight so he could deck him. I’d only seen this side of Hunter a few times, and I knew he wouldn’t be standing down tonight. If I resisted, he would throw me over his shoulder and shove me into the car like we were twelve years old again.

I gave Claude a wry smile. “Thanks for the fun night. I don’t think things will work out between us, but if you find another apartment in that area we talked about, let me know.” Then I climbed in and fumbled for the seat belt.

Hunter’s hand brushed my waist as he grabbed the belt, clicked it into place, and slammed the door. He muttered something to Claude in French as he strode around the car, and Claude’s smile tightened. A second later, we were off.

“I think you just insulted my date,” I told him.

Hunter gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white. “Making Claude happy is not my priority right now, and it should never have been yours.”

I looked around. “I thought you didn’t own a car.”

“It belongs to a friend. It’s all I could find on short notice.”

Short notice? What did that mean? I folded my arms. “I’d like an explanation, please.”

“Jillian told me about your date. Most of the locals here are incredibly kind people, but like everywhere, there are players. Jillian didn’t remember his name, but she found his business card in your belongings, and I did some research. You should have seen all the photos of women on his social media. I’m sure the guy’s broken some kind of world record. He must have four girlfriends at any given time.”

“I know.”

He looked braced for a fight, but my words disarmed him. “You know?”

“I figured it out. I was leaving when you pulled up.”

The streetlights painted lines across his face as he turned onto a deserted road. “Then I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Hunter, I’m an adult. I don’t need a big brother.”

He stared at me in the darkness. “Is that what I am to you?”

The memory of us together under the hot sun on a country road four years ago returned in full force. That kiss injected liquid fire into my veins just thinking about it. I hadn’t experienced anything that intense before or since. Not even tonight.

The full impact of tonight’s events slammed into me, and I shuddered at the thought of kissing Claude. Creeper or not, one thing I knew for sure. If it had been Hunter and me dancing on that boat, having a romantic moment, and he’d leaned in to kiss me, the experience would have been completely different.

Anger lit a torch inside. Would every date be like this forever? Comparing Hunter to men who could never measure up while he held another woman in his arms at home?

It took us a few minutes to find an empty parking spot. As he parked tightly against the curb, I blurted, “Where is Collette?”

Hunter turned off the car and said nothing.

“Your mom told everyone about her,” I continued. “Said she was beautiful and educated and you were head over heels in love. She’s why you wouldn’t come to my mom’s funeral.”

“You’re right about some of it,” he said quietly.

Enough with the games. “She’s out of town, isn’t she? That’s the only reason you’re showing us around the city. Once she comes back, you’ll be together and I won’t see you again.”

His knuckles on the steering wheel turned white again, even in the dim light. “Kennedy, you’re missing the boat here.”

With a growl, I flung the car door open and stomped up to the double doors. At least as much stomping as my high heels allowed. My feet would be permanently deformed from these shoes after tonight.

Hunter followed, a silent shadow in the night.

“What are you protecting me from now?” I hissed. “Swiss models wanting to sweep me off my feet?”

He looked away. “Paris isn’t safe for women at night, even in this part of town. ”

I whirled on him. “You’re taking this overprotective thing to a whole new level. I can’t believe you stalked me on a date.”

“I can’t believe you even thought about going home with that scumbag. You didn’t even know him.”

“I would never have done that, Hunter. But even if I had, it was my choice. Mine. ” I grabbed the hotel door handle and yanked on it.

It didn’t budge.

With a blink, I realized all the windows were dark, even the guest ones above. I pulled again, harder this time. No luck.

Hunter pointed at a black device on the door. “You’ll have to use your key.”

My key. Right. The one I’d left in my purse upstairs, assuming my sisters would let me into the room. It didn’t occur to me that the reception area wouldn’t be open twenty-four hours like in the States.

I pulled my phone from my purse and called Jillian. No answer. A quick text got no response. I groaned internally and resorted to calling Alexis, but it went straight to voicemail. A quick scan of the door revealed no phone number to call. I pounded for a minute, but no lights turned on.

I checked my phone again. No texts, and it was after midnight now.

Hunter watched me with unreadable eyes. “I’m taking you to my place.”

Leaning against the stubborn door, I gritted my teeth. And sleep in an apartment belonging to the woman he loved, surrounded by their memories? “Not a chance.”

“I know you’re angry, but it’s the one place I know you’ll be safe. I doubt there are any open hotels within miles of here this time of night.”

“Then I’ll sit on the doorstep and wait until morning.”

Hunter stared at me in disbelief. “Fine by me. I’ll be watching you from the car.” He walked back to his vehicle and leaned against the side, arms folded.

Seriously? “Go home. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving without you.” He pretended to examine the streetlamp overhead.

After a minute, I groaned and stomped back down the steps. “You are such a child sometimes.”

He opened the door and held it. “And you are a perfectly mature adult at all times. It amazes me, really.”