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the bar, kissed each of my cheeks, and then the first one again. “Nice to meet you, Mia. Welcome to Paris.”
    #
    Despite Lucas’s opinion, I did not feel confident enough to take the Metro for the first time at night, so he put me in a cab and gave the driver directions to the hotel. Lucas raised an eyebrow at my fancy digs but didn’t make any smart comments. We agreed he’d meet me there in the lobby at ten the next morning—he argued for noon, but I insisted on earlier.
    “I have to work until two,” he complained.
    “Better get right home afterward, then. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow if you’re going to sell Paris to me in just one day.”
    He groaned and opened the cab door, and I flashed him a victory smile. I’d sort of been expecting at least a hug or something, but he didn’t go in for one, so I didn’t either. Sliding into the back seat, I lifted a hand in farewell as he shut the door and did the same.
    It was oddly disappointing.
    #
    The next morning I woke at eight, showered, and donned the smaller of the two robes that hung in the bathroom. Humming along with Kate Nash’s “Paris”, one of my favorite songs on the Paris playlist, I let my curls air-dry as I sipped a delicious pot of room-service coffee, nibbled on strawberries and pain au chocolat , and sifted through my clothes for just the right outfit. According to the English-language newspaper that had been waiting at my door, the day would be overcast but not rainy, and the temperature mild.
    Hmmmm. Tapping a finger on my lips, I considered my wardrobe. I wanted to look nice but not like I was trying hard—because I wasn’t—but I needed to be comfortable too. My flats had been OK for walking yesterday, but I thought I might go with sneakers today. I paired them with my favorite jeans, rolled up, and a plain white tank top. In case I got chilly, I tossed a soft little sweater in watermelon pink over my shoulders.
    Once I was dressed, I put on some mascara and fussed a little with my hair, but really, there wasn’t much I could do once it was dry. Kerastase made products I loved, but sometimes my curls had a mind of their own. Today, thankfully, they were behaving properly.
    I finished my coffee and was brushing my teeth when the front desk called up letting me know I had a guest in the lobby. I rinsed, spit, and put on my favorite lip balm before slinging my bag over my shoulder and rushing out the door.
    On the elevator ride down, my stomach was actually jumping—what the hell? I put a hand over it and reminded myself not to expect too much out of this day. Lucas was a nice guy and all, maybe even a little attractive, but there was no guarantee I was going to enjoy his company for hours on end, nor he mine. In fact, this day could be totally awkward if we didn’t have anything in common. I’d have to think of an excuse to cut out early if that was the case.
    After exiting the elevator, I walked into the elegant lobby and scanned the crowd.
    “Looking for someone?” The voice came from behind me, and I turned to find Lucas standing there, hands in his pockets.
    I smiled. “This time, I am.”
    He returned the smile before leaning in and kissing me, once on each cheek. Was it my imagination, or was he cuter this morning than he’d been at the bar last night? Was something different? I took a quick inventory—no, the scruff was still there and the hair was still kind of a mess. Jesus, did the man own a comb?
    But his outfit wasn’t bad. The gray pants from last night were making a repeat performance, but on top he wore a white shirt and a cardigan sweater. It was cute in a sort of nerdy-chic way.
    We exited the hotel and Lucas gestured left. “This way.”
    “Where are we going?” I fell in step beside him.
    “For coffee.”
    A sound of frustration escaped me. “I’ve already had coffee! I want to see something!”
    “Relax, princess. We’re going to stroll up the Champs-Élysées like proper tourists and