One Summer in Paris

The crowd had thinned by the time Philippe appeared.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, ignoring everyone around them. “Well? Did you enjoy it?”

“You have to ask? Didn’t you hear the applause?”

“I’m not talking about the audience,” he murmured against her lips, “I’m talking about you. I was playing for you.”

“It was exquisite. You were brilliant.” They slid into the car that was waiting. Philippe shrugged out of his jacket and tugged at his bow tie. Without shifting his gaze from hers, he pushed it into his pocket.

“You look beautiful. And you wore the dress.”

“You asked me to.”

And why not? She couldn’t imagine ever wearing it again once she arrived home.

She could imagine Clemmie’s face if she walked into the store wearing the blue dress and gold strappy sandals.

Here in Paris, she was New Grace. She liked being New Grace. New Grace didn’t feel intimidated about walking around Paris alone. New Grace was happy not to plan every second of her day. New Grace occasionally left shoes on the floor where she’d kicked them off, and tonight New Grace was on a date with a man.

New Grace had punched Old Grace in the jaw and knocked her unconscious.

And she had Audrey to thank for it. Who would have thought that an eighteen-year-old girl would have been her inspiration to challenge herself?

The car prowled silently through the streets, and she gazed out of the window.

Paris at night sparkled like a woman all dressed up for a night out. She thought how pretty it was and how much she was going to miss it when she returned home.

Finally, they pulled in near the river.

“Are we going to another of your favorite restaurants?”

“No restaurant.”

“I thought we were eating?”

“We are, but I wanted something a little more intimate. How do you feel about picnics?”

She started to laugh. “It’s late. It’s dark—”

“And there is no view like this one.”

His driver produced a hamper of food, and they ate by the river with their legs dangling over the edge, enjoying a perfect view of Notre Dame. Here in the heart of the city, they were surrounded by both tourists and locals.

And a picnic with Philippe turned out not to be a few slices of packaged ham from the supermarket, but food bought fresh from the finest shops in Paris.

“I’m guessing you didn’t put this together yourself.”

“I might have had a little help.” He opened the basket and unwrapped the food. “I was playing the piano, so I delegated.”

She wasn’t about to complain, because the food was delicious.

They ate savory tarts, charcuterie, cheese and plump olives. The bread was crusty and fresh and the view was unbeatable.

It was more romantic than any dinner she’d eaten in a restaurant.

Or maybe it was the way she was feeling.

It was a perfect night for seduction, and Grace was ready to be seduced. She was also ready to do the seducing.