“I don’t think you’re supposed to call it a damn cathedral.” I handed him the book. “How about if you read to me while I look?”
Lucas nodded. “That is acceptable.”
We found an empty bench and sat down. Leaning back, I studied the church while Lucas read to me about buttresses, barrel vaults, and gargoyles. After a few minutes, though, I stopped being fascinated by characteristics of Gothic cathedrals and starting rhapsodizing about the low, fluid sound of Lucas’s voice, the expressive way he read, the charming hint of an accent that sometimes crept beneath his words when he wasn’t paying attention. Hiding a smile, I told myself to quit drifting and pay attention—I’d have a hard enough time remembering any of the information—but his reading was so sweet and soothing, I grew a little drowsy.
When he was done, he closed the book and said, “Want to go inside?”
Actually, I kind of just wanted to sit there with him on that bench, maybe lay my head in his lap. Kiss him. Take a nap or admire the scenery. But instead I got to my feet and stretched. “Yes.”
After we toured the crypts underneath Notre-Dame and admired the soaring ceilings and gorgeous stained glass windows inside, I asked Lucas to climb the tower with me.
“What? No, Mia. I already told you I don’t like heights.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
“No.” I have no idea what made me act so bold but I actually took his hands out of his pockets and held them between us. “Please, Lucas. We won’t stay up there long, and I promise I won’t make you go to the edge.”
“Why do you need me up there?” His expression was pained. “The view’s the same whether you’re alone or not.”
“I know. And it’s not that I won’t enjoy it alone. I just really want you to come up there with me.”
His shoulders sagged a little as he exhaled, closing his eyes.
“Please, Lucas, for me?” I shook his hands.
He opened his eyes and peered at me warily. “You’re gonna make me do this, aren’t you.”
I nodded. “Yep. So you might as well give in sooner rather than later.”
He grimaced. “All right. I’ll do it.”
Three hundred eighty-seven steep, narrow spiral steps later, we emerged at the top. Lucas was a bit pale and skittish, but I took his hand and tugged him forward. “Come on. Show me where you live.”
Reluctantly he moved closer to the edge but remained behind me, speaking into my hair to be heard above the wind. Over my left shoulder, he pointed in the direction of the river. “I have a studio apartment in the sixth, near Saint-Germain-des-Prés. It actually belongs to my mother but I’m the only one who stays there anymore.”
“And where is she? At the vineyard?” I was curious about his family, but mostly I was enjoying having him stand so close behind me.
“No, she’s visiting friends in Nice right now. Are you cold?”
I glanced back to see him looking down my arm, where gooseflesh had blanketed my skin. “A little. It’s breezy up here.”
“Want your sweater?” Before I could answer, he tugged the wrap loose from my waist and held it up for me to slip my arms into.
“Thanks. I’d like to see your apartment sometime.” He went silent and motionless for a moment, and I wondered if the statement been too suggestive. “I mean, if you have time. No big deal. I’m just curious about apartments. I have to find a new one when I get back, and—”
“Mia, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
He wants to have dinner with me! Even my toes tingled. And how cute was the anxious expression on his face, like he was scared I might say no? “Sounds great.”
Smiling, I looked out over the city again and thought how lucky it was that I’d chosen to walk into his bar last night instead of just going home. I turned back to him, an impish grin on my face. “I’m really glad I came in The Beaver last night.”
He burst out laughing. “You know how bad that sounds, right?”
I nodded happily, and my heartbeat quickened—I loved making him laugh. “That’s why I said it that way. But I really do mean it, Lucas. This day would have been a disaster without you. In fact, I probably would have just gone home.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Will you take a picture with me?”
“I’ll take a picture of you. You don’t need me in it.”
“I want you in it. Come on, please ask someone if they’ll take one for us. I want to remember this day with you.” His expression softened and he tapped the shoulder of a woman nearby. She nodded and smiled, and I handed her my camera.
It seemed sort of awkward and military to stand side by side, arms down, so I moved closer to Lucas, hoping he’d put an arm around me. He didn’t, so I moved in front of him.
“You have to stop moving so she can take the picture,” he said.
“Quiet. Just try to look happy, so I can lie and tell my friends I charmed a French man.”
“OK,” said the woman. “Un, deux, trois.”
I smiled as Lucas whispered in my ear, “You won’t have to lie.”
Chapter 7
Lucas wanted a chance to clean up before dinner, and jet lag was starting to catch up with me, so I figured I could use a rest. After we exited the tower, he pointed me in the direction of a less pricey shopping area that was between Notre Dame and the Plaza Athénée and gave me specific directions for getting back. Then he gave me a quick hug and said he’d come for me at eight. I crossed the Seine in the opposite direction from him and found the rue de Rivoli without a problem, but instead of shopping I spent the next hour and a half wandering down the street in a complete daze, unable to take my mind off Lucas and the night ahead.