“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. Your father won’t buy your perfect gentleman description if he learns I let you walk the streets of Paris alone.”
“Really, I’ll be perfectly safe, and I won’t tell if you don’t.” One arched brow was his only answer. She shrugged and eyed the black, snakeskin boots on his feet. “Suit yourself, but I hope those are comfortable. You’ll be walking for a while.”
His sardonic gaze bounced down to her three-inch heels and back. “You’re not headed to your hotel?”
She shook her head. “I go home tomorrow. I want to say goodbye to the city.”
His hat, riding low on his forehead, shaded his eyes, but a smile curved his lips. “How does one say goodbye to a city?”
“With a smile and a bit of sadness.” She cut him a sidelong glance. “If you’re saying goodbye to a city you love.”
He nodded. “I feel the same way every time I leave Dallas, but though I’ve been to Paris several times, I’ve never had the time to really experience what others claim to love.”
“Then hold on to your hat, cowboy. You’re about to get the nickel tour.”
He chuckled, briefly slowing his steps to give space to a couple heading in the other direction.
They walked in silence for several moments before jittery nerves had her clearing her throat. “Have you always lived in Dallas?”
“Until I left for college.”
“And then?”
“After graduating, I settled in Manhattan to launch the charter service.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you live on the east coast.” Crap. He lived in Manhattan? Relax, Jane. So do ten million others. Her gaze flicked up. “The hat threw me off.”
He grinned. “Have you always been a New Yorker?”
She racked her brain. Shae had moved next door when they were both eight, but had the Austins lived outside the city before then? She couldn’t remember. Evasion seemed the wisest course. “I’m a city girl.” They rounded a corner and Point Neuf came into view. She grabbed hold of the diversion with both hands. “Oh, look. Isn’t it lovely?”
The oldest of Paris’ bridges, Point Neuf was her favorite. She made a point to visit at least once a trip. Like an old friend, the bridge never failed to please her eye, with twinkling lights outlining the aged architecture by night and by the pale brick arches reflecting against the dark water of the Seine by day.
Her nickel tour quickly turned into a private, detailed excursion. To their left, she directed his attention toward the Arc De Triomphe standing strong in the distance. To their right, Notre Dame shone like a beacon calling to the faithful, its stunning reflection dancing on the Seine.
They turned onto Quai de L’Horloge, passing la Conciergerie, the long-ago palace of French kings. In later days, the grand structure became famous as the site where Marie Antoinette and so many others spent their last days before falling to the guillotine.
Humor flickered in his eyes as she plied him with obscure historical facts she’d picked up on her many visits, but there was genuine interest in them as well. They covered a lot of ground, eventually entering the wide pedestrian way of Rue de Lutèce, where she offered a blushing apology for rambling close to two hours.
“Don’t apologize.” His secret weapon dimples fired with his smile. “You promised me the nickel tour, remember?”
She winced. “I have a tendency to get carried away.”
“You know what they say? You get what you pay for.”
She frowned at the implied insult, and he threw back his head on a laugh. Still snickering, he dropped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed her to his side.
“I was joking.” He left his arm where it was, urging her forward. “It’s a pleasure to see the city through the eyes of someone so passionate about it.”
Too flustered to object to being held against his side, she went along without argument.
“You visit often, I take it?”
She smiled. “As often as possible. I came the first time as a child and fell in love. I’ve lost myself in the city’s history many times.”
Despite the hour, Rue de Lutèce teamed with people, eating, shopping, and lingering to enjoy a host of street entertainers. Gabe released her to purchase two steaming hot chocolates.
Jane scowled as he stepped away. She had no business mourning the loss of his arm across her shoulders, his side pressed to hers. They were two people enjoying a fall evening in Paris, nothing more.
He returned to hand her one of the cups, and her heart clenched at the little-boy grin brightening his tanned face as he tapped his cup to hers. Distressed, she dipped her head. He didn’t know her real name, and yet here she was, falling a little in love with a virtual stranger she would never see again after tonight.
“Come on.” He slid a hand to the small of her back, leading her across the pedestrian way.