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by here any minute. We can’t take any chances that they will see your hair or this bright red dress. You need to get closer to me.”
    Julien wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed my back firmly into the tree, completely covering me with his body. “Don’t move,” he whispered as his warm, scruffy cheek pressed into mine. I closed my eyes and prayed that the police wouldn’t see us. The cool scent of Julien’s cologne calmed my nerves but also made me remember his kiss from earlier this morning. I squeezed my eyes tighter and tried to conjure up Paul’s standard scent—the same Tommy Hilfiger aftershave he’d been wearing since we first met in college—but I couldn’t.
    Julien gripped my waist a little tighter. “It’s okay, they are almost gone.”
    I opened my eyes, only then realizing that I was shaking.
    “ Allez, viens . We must go the other way.” Julien slid his hand from my waist and intertwined his fingers with mine.
    I guiltily swiped the image of Paul’s face from my mind, comforting myself with the hope that I would be flying home to him the next day, and that I would never again be in such close quarters with another man.
    But as Julien gripped my hand and led me the opposite way around the lush, flowery pathway, my stomach remained unsettled, my heart still flickering inside my chest.
    We rounded the pond, and it was only when I noticed the green arched bridge stretching across the water lily-covered water that I realized where we were. This was the famous water lily pond in Monet’s paintings.
    “It is beautiful, is it not?” Julien said, leading me past a group of Italian high-schoolers and further away from the police officers.
    “It’s gorgeous. Too bad I’m not here on vacation to really enjoy it.”
    Julien’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a nervous laugh, the skin around his eyes crinkling the slightest bit. “You will never forget your trip to Giverny though, will you?”
    I slipped my hand underneath my hair, shaking it free from the red dress. “No, I will never forget this.”
    After making it through the swarms of tourists who were shooting their tiny digital cameras at the blossoming gardens behind Monet’s house, Julien led me toward a massive black tour bus parked at the end of the dirt road.
    “Where are you going?” I asked him. “This isn’t the way to your car.”
    “We have to leave the car here. The police have the license plate number, remember?” Julien took a step onto the bus and turned to face me. “You coming?”
    “What other choice do I have?” I filed onto the air-conditioned bus behind him, hoping again that the man I was following was really worth my trust.

 
    Five
     
    Julien sauntered down the aisle toward the back of the empty bus, not seeming the least bit concerned with the fact that we were now on a random tour bus and had no clue where it was headed.
    I’d no more than taken my seat and wiped a bead of sweat off my brow when a large group of men and women bounded onto the bus and filled up the rows, laughing and chatting as they coupled up and sat down.
    “What if the bus is full?” I whispered to Julien. “And what if someone notices that we weren’t on the bus before? And what if we have to pay for a spot? I don’t exactly have any money on me, you know. And, just a side note, where in the hell is this bus going?”
    Julien sighed, and I could’ve sworn he was holding in a laugh. “Relax. The bus is going to Paris, and we will take a train from there down to Annecy. Besides, even if they find out we are imposters, do you really believe they are going to kick us off the bus in the middle of nowhere?”
    “Um . . . yeah, actually. I think that’s exactly what is going to happen.”
    “I promise you, if that happens, I will find another way to get to Paris. If you haven’t noticed yet, I am quite resourceful.”
    “How are you so sure this bus is going to Paris anyway?”
    Just as Julien opened his mouth to speak, a