Lucie’s head swam, and she fumbled for the desktop to brace herself. He was a résistant? How could that be?
His gaze continued in unflinching strength—and those eyebrows pinched again, pleading for her trust.
He was a résistant. Paul Aubrey was a résistant.
Her voice—where was it? “You—you don’t seem like the sort of man to read Gibbon.”
At the junction of his lip and his cheek, a smile flickered. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
Her own lips twitched with a smile desperate for release. That sense of goodness and integrity—she’d been correct all along.
“May I?” He slid a masculine hand across the desk. “May I have the book, please?”
Her eyes, her ears, her heart, her soul—all sang in harmony. She retrieved the book and set it before him. “For you.”
“Thank you.” He paid her.
She could barely see to ring up the purchase and make change. Paul Aubrey—résistant. She didn’t know him at all. And yet she’d known him well from the very start.
Paul held the book. There was a lightness and clarity about him, as if a veil had lifted that had weighed him down, that had concealed him from view.
“The store closes at seven, right?” he said. “Are you free tonight? Will you meet me—”
She was already nodding. “When? Where?”
He smiled, quick and gone. “I’d like to take you out, but a restaurant won’t do.”
“No.” They needed to speak in private.
“Pont Royal at seven thirty? We won’t have time to eat dinner beforehand, but we need to get home before curfew.”
“I’ll eat afterward.” How could she eat anyway?
Paul slipped on his hat and bowed his head with delicious intensity in his eyes. “Until then.”
She could only nod. After he left, she sank back against the wall, making the frames of the author photographs rattle. “Until then.”
At 19:25 she crossed Pont Royal from the Left Bank of the Seine, her step light and eager. The sun hovered above the horizon, casting golden light on the river.
As she neared the center of the bridge, Paul came toward her from the Right Bank with a glow of anticipation.
They met in the middle. “Hello.” It was all she could say.
“Hello.” He stood close, filling her view, not moving for the longest moment.
All she wanted was to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. She no longer needed words to know the truth about this man. And yet words seemed wise.
“Shall we walk?” He gestured north toward the Louvre and the Tuileries.
She fell in step beside him. “I have so much I want to ask you, so much to tell you, but I don’t know where to start.”
Paul glanced at the passersby, the men in business suits and ladies in colorful dresses. “Right now we shouldn’t say anything.”
“No.” She stepped closer to him to let a bicycle pass. Her shoulder brushed his arm, and warmth surged through her.
Paul’s hat shadowed his eyes, but his mouth bent in an appealing smile. He’d felt it too.
Lucie dipped her chin to conceal the admiration flooding her face. She needed answers first. Just a few.
