“I thought we could watch the show from here,” Trey said.
“The fireworks won’t start for hours.”
He smiled a little. “That’s why we’re having dinner first.”
As we walked through the bar, I saw other women and more than a few men glancing at Trey, at his lean, elegant body and movie star hair. He didn’t seem to notice. Like he didn’t even realize how gorgeous he was. Or maybe he didn’t care.
My toes curled a little in my cheap, flat sandals. At least I was wearing a sundress—inexpensive but appropriate.
We sat in a green alcove, shielded by banks of boxwood and blooming roses. The ground-level stink of Paris, of pee and diesel, wet limestone and the river, seemed very far away. The air smelled expensive, like jasmine and wine. Our food came, artfully arranged on white plates. I ate chocolate-covered strawberries and drank pink champagne cocktails. Watched as the sun slid down and the lights winked on and the Eiffel Tower lit up, sparkling in the distance.Magic.
I let Trey pay for everything. Did Cinderella insist on split checks with Prince Charming?
We talked easily, without the usual awkward getting-to-know-you crap. He had known me since I was ten. I’d loved him nearly that long. But this was almost the first time we were together as adults, out of Bunyan. Out of school. Away from my family.
“So, what’s next for you?” he asked as the server cleared our plates away.
“After Paris? I don’t know. I don’t want to end up another unemployed design student selling dresses at Nordstrom. I’m hoping to establish my own line somewhere. Atlanta, maybe, or Miami.”
“Why not New York?”
I shook my head. “New York is Jo’s thing.” My sister, after a stint in grad school, was working as a features writer for theEmpire City Weekly. I was tired of following in her footsteps. Of living in her shadow. I met Trey’s eyes. “I am not my sister.”
The air charged between us. I felt its static all over my skin.
When the first burst of fireworks lit the sky, Trey took my hand and led me to the stone balustrade. I shivered a little in happiness and excitement. His arms came around me. I leaned back against him, protected and warm, inhaling the citrusy scent of bergamot and starch.
Another bang. Another flare streaked across the velvet dark, red and gold blazing against the invisible stars.
I turned in his arms.
His eyes were dark and serious. “Amy...”
I didn’t want to hear. I stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
When his lips met mine, showers of sparks rained down behind my closed lids.
I rode the elevator to his room in a glow of fireworks and champagne cocktails.
I wasn’t drunk. I knew exactly what I was doing. What we were about to do. And I couldn’t wait.
The tiny cage descended, starting and stopping like my heart.Ping, ping. The mirror reflected us standing very close together, Trey, dark and intent, and me, pink-faced with sun and anticipation. He stroked the tips of his fingers between my hair and my cheek, his gaze dropping to my mouth. My heart bloomed with happiness.
The elevator jolted to a stop. He pushed open the ironwork gate, and we tumbled into the hall, wrapped in each other, kissing, kissing like we would never stop.
“Prenez une chambre, jeune homme.” Get a room, delivered with finely calibrated scorn.
Trey raised his head. A very well-dressed woman stood waiting for the elevator, thin-plucked brows arched high. He grinned.“Heureusement, j’ai déjà une chambre, madame.”LuckyI already have a room.
Her lips twitched in acknowledgment, scorn dissolving in the face of his charm. I hid my smile against his starched white shirtfront.
He had a room. We were going to his room.
It wasn’t like this was my first time. I wasn’t as slutty—God, I hated that word!—as my high school reputation made me out to be.Easy A. But I’d recognized years ago that the love of my life belonged to my sister. So there had been others. Nice boys, mostly. Just... not Trey.
He tugged me down the hall, opened the door in one smooth move, and pulled me into the room. Everything inside me sparkled like the Eiffel Tower. I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck, ready for him to do me against the wall. On the floor. Anywhere.
He caught my hands, holding them between his own, his gaze dark and seeking. “Is this okay?”
