Pardon My French

Pardon My French

“Look,” he said softly, pointing over and up.

Nicole followed his gaze. There, rising in the air, so close it seemed almost larger than life, was the angular metal skeleton of the Eiffel Tower. White lights picked out its every curve and strut, making it stand out against the dark sky.

“Oh!” she gasped in surprise. “It’s—it’s beautiful!”

She had seen the Eiffel Tower many times, of course—it was difficult to go anywhere in the center of Paris without coming upon yet another view of it. But from this angle it looked like a whole new structure, looming and strangely mysterious, almost alive.

Becoming aware that Luc was watching her rather than the Tower, she turned and met his gaze.

He smiled. “I thought you would appreciate it,” he said. “You, I think, have the ability to see what is special, what is important.”

His face moved closer. Nicole stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the guileless, undemanding appreciation she saw there. So different from the way Nate looked at her most of the time.

She did nothing to stop Luc as he bent down and kissed her. His lips felt soft and warm against her own, and she let her eyes fall shut as she pressed against him.