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actually. I’m a French teacher back home in DC, so I do speak the language.”
    “Maybe next time. I need to practice my English, and what better way zan to practice with a teacher from zee United States?”
    “Very true.” I smiled at my new-found French cutie. “Thanks for bringing me along . . . it’s nice not to be alone on my first night here.”
    “Well . . .” he paused for a few seconds and then looked me intently in the eye. “A woman as beauteeful as you should not be alone in your apartment tonight.”
    Luc was so handsome and sweet that I didn’t mind hearing the typical French man “you are so beautiful” comments so soon after we met. I needed a nice guy, who was nothing like Jeff, to dote on me that night. And what better way to get my research started for my blog than to go out with a cute French guy?
    Which reminded me, under no circumstances was I allowed to fall for this guy just because he was hot, charming and happened to live two doors down from me.
    After buying me a ticket and running with me to catch the train, Luc pushed through the car to get me the only seat left and shielded me from all of the greasy men, who, if he hadn't been there with me, would've undoubtedly been bursting through their tight, tapered pants while trying to catch shameless glimpses of my cleavage. I definitely caught Luc gazing down there a few times, but oh well. I just wished Jeff could've been there to see another guy checking me out. Humph.
    Only a few short stops later, I followed Luc through the underground labyrinth of the Notre Dame metro stop, and we emerged to the bustling Place St. Michel.
    The sweet aroma of hot Nutella crêpes wafted past me and made my stomach growl as I took in my surroundings. Bright yellow awnings of Gibert Jeune bookstores lined the busy square which held the towering St. Michel fountain at its center. The elegant sound of the French language flowed from the sidewalk cafés as Parisians sipped red wine and laughed with their friends. Chatty groups of tourists speaking every language possible weaved in and out of the cobblestone streets toward the Seine.
    The excitement was contagious, and before I knew it, I found myself thinking that there was no other place in the world that could possibly be as thrilling or as beautiful as this.
    This was the Paris I’d remembered.
    How had I managed to stay away for so long? And what reason would I ever have to go back to the States?
    Luc placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me across the scooter-filled streets to the Seine. We strolled along the deep blue, sparkling river together in a comfortable silence until Luc led me down a flight of stairs to the river bank. Adjacent to the gothic Notre Dame cathedral, a dinner boat floated calmly on the quiet waters. We climbed on board, and, with his warm hand still firmly pressed into my back, Luc took me to the rear of the boat where a couple was sitting, their arms and legs draped all over each other, seductive whispers passing back and forth between them.
    “Zose are my friends,” he said, pointing in their direction.
    He introduced me to Benoît, one of his close friends, and Lexi, Benoît’s date. Benoît was taller and thinner than Luc, but strikingly handsome. Likewise, Lexi was absolutely gorgeous. Taller than me, she had perfect, thin legs, long, wavy black hair, iridescent amber eyes with neatly waxed eyebrows, a naturally dark complexion, and enormous breasts. I mean enormous. The two of them—Benoît and Lexi that is—were quite a sight. They could’ve easily been a pair of sexy models on some high fashion Parisian billboard.
    Bisous were exchanged around the table, and before I knew it, I was enjoying a tall glass of Merlot and was chatting up a storm with Luc’s friends.
    “So how do all of you know each other?” I asked the group.
    “Luc and I grew up in Paris together, and then studied finance together in college. And Lexi and I just met about a month ago,”