It Happened in Paris.... Robin Gianna
want. To immerse myself in French culture for a while. And soon, because I need a cup of coffee more than I need oxygen right now.”
Those amazing eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, sparkled as her smile grew wider. “Caffeine is definitely the number one survival requirement. Come on.”
Leaving barely a second for him to thank the unhelpful maître d’, she wrapped her hand around his biceps and tugged him toward the door and out into the chilly January streets of Paris. “Just down the street is the perfect café. We can get coffee and a baguette, then we’ll be good to go.”
We? Jack had to grin at the way she’d taken over. Not that he minded. Being grabbed and herded down the street by a beautiful woman who obviously knew a little about Paris was a pleasure he hadn’t expected, but was more than happy about.
“I’m Avery, by the way.”
“Jack.” He looked at her and realized her unusual name went well with a very unusual woman. A woman who took a perfect stranger down the street to a coffee shop as though she’d known him for days instead of seconds. A red wool hat was pulled onto her head, covering lush dark brown hair that spilled from beneath it. A scarf of orange, red and yellow was wrapped around her neck and tucked inside a short black coat, and tight-fitting black pants hugged her shapely legs. On her feet she wore yellow rain boots with red ducks all over them, and a purple umbrella was tucked under her arm. Dull she most definitely was not.
“Nice to meet you, Jack.” Her smile was downright dazzling. The morning looked a whole lot brighter than it had a few moments ago, despite the sky being as gray as pencil lead. “How do you like your coffee? American style? If you really want to be French, you’ll have to drink espresso. But I won’t judge you either way.”
Her green eyes, filled with a teasing look, were so mesmerizing he nearly stumbled off the curb when they crossed the street. “Somehow I think that’s a lie. And while I can handle being judged, I like espresso.”
“I knew you were a man after my own heart.”
He’d be willing to bet a lot of men were after her heart and a whole lot more.
The little coffee shop smelled great, and he followed Avery to the counter. She ordered in French, and the way the words slipped from her tongue, it sounded to him like she spoke the language nearly like a native.
“You ordered, so I’m paying,” he said.
“That’s what I was hoping for. Why else did you think I brought you along?”
“And here I thought it was my good looks and sophistication.”
“I did find that, combined with your little-boy-lost look, irresistible, I must admit.”
He chuckled. Damned if she wasn’t about the cutest woman he’d been around in a long time. They took their baguettes and tiny cups of espresso to a nearby tall table and stood. Jack nearly downed his cup of hot, strong coffee in one gulp. “This is good. Just what I needed. Except there isn’t nearly enough of it.”
“I know. And I even ordered us double shots. I always have to get used to the tiny amounts of espresso they serve when I’m in Europe. We Americans are used to our bottomless cups of coffee.”
“Are you here as a tourist? With friends?” Jack couldn’t imagine she was traveling alone, but hoped she was. Maybe they could spend some time together, since he’d be in Paris for an entire month. With any luck, she was living here.
“I’m in Paris to work, and I’m alone. How about you?”
“Me, too. Working and alone. But I do have a few hours to kill today. Any chance you’ll show me around a little in exchange for me buying lunch?”
“We’re eating breakfast, and you’re already thinking about lunch?” More of that teasing look, and he found himself leaning closer to her. Drawn to her. “I’ve already proved I plan my friendships around who’ll buy. So the answer is yes.”
He smiled. Maybe this great start to his trip to Paris was a good omen. “Where to first? I know nothing about Paris except the Eiffel Tower, which I know is close because I saw it from the hotel.”
“Paris is a wonderful city for walking. Even though it’s cold today and may well rain. Or even snow. Let’s walk toward the Seine and go from there. If we hit the tower early, we’ll avoid some of the crazy lines.”
“There are lines this time of year? I didn’t think there would be many tourists.”
“There are always tourists. Not as many in January and February as in spring and summer, but still plenty. Lots come to celebrate Valentine’s Day in Paris. Romantic, you know?”
He didn’t, really. Sure, he’d had women in his life, some briefly and some for a little longer. But, like his father in the past and his brother now, his life was about work. Working to help patients. Working to save people like his grandfather, who’d had so much to live for but whose heart had given out on him far too soon.
Avery finished her last bite of bread and gathered up her purse and umbrella, clearly ready to move on.
“I don’t suppose they give little to-go cups of espresso, do they?” he asked.
“You suppose right,” she said with a grin. “The French don’t believe in multitasking to quite the same degree we do. They’d shake their heads at crazy Americans who eat and drink while walking around the city.”
“I’ll have to get a triple shot at lunch, then,” he said as they stood. He resisted the urge to lick the last drop from his cup, figuring Avery wouldn’t be too impressed. Might even come up with an excuse not to take him to the Eiffel Tower, and one drop of coffee wasn’t anywhere near worth that risk.
They strolled down cobbled streets and wide walks toward the tower, Avery’s melodic voice giving him a rundown of various sights as they strolled. Not overly chatty, just the perfect combination of information and quiet enjoyment. Jack’s chest felt light. Spending this time with her had leeched away all the stress he’d been feeling, all the intense focus on getting this study off the ground, to the exclusion of everything. How had he gotten so lucky as to have her step into his first day in France exactly when he’d needed it?
“That’s L’Hôtel des Invalides,” she said, pointing at a golden building not too far away. “Napoleon is buried there. I read that they regilded the dome on the anniversary of the French Revolution with something like twenty pounds of gold. And I have to wonder. Wouldn’t all that gold have been better used to drape women in jewelry?”
“So you like being draped in gold?” He looked at the silver hoops in her ears and silver bangles on her wrist. Sexy, but not gold, and not over the top in any way.
“Not really. Though if a man feels compelled to do that, who am I to argue?” She grinned and grasped his arm again. “Let’s get to the tower before the crowds.”
She picked up the pace as they walked the paths crisscrossing a green expanse in front of the tower. Considering how cold it was, a surprising number of people were there snapping pictures and standing in line as they approached. “Are you afraid of heights?”
“Who, me? I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Everyone’s afraid of something.” Her smiling expression faded briefly into seriousness before lightening again. “Obviously, the Eiffel Tower is super tall, and the elevators can be claustrophobic even while you’re thinking how scary it is to be going so high. I’ll hold your hand, though, if you need me to.”
“You know, I just might be afraid after all.”
She laughed, and her small hand slid into his. Naturally. Just like it belonged there.
“Truth? I get a little weirded out on the elevator,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “So if I squeeze your hand too tight, I’m sorry.”
“I’m tough, don’t worry.”