Royals Untamed!. Annie West

before turning around to speak to her rescuer. How dared he accuse her of being drunk?

      But the words died in her throat. Bright blue eyes and a broad chest obstructed her view.

      Even on a dark Paris night those blue eyes would have attracted her attention. He was tall, dark-haired, with a broad chest, wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans with a dark wool coat on top. Trust her to find the best-looking guy in Paris and have no reliable witnesses. No one would believe her.

      She automatically lifted her hands. ‘No. No, I’m not drunk. I just got stuck in a crowd going in the opposite direction from me.’

      His demeanour changed. The skin around his eyes creased as he smiled. ‘What? You’re going home already? You don’t want to see the fireworks?’

      His accent sent tingles across her skin. He sounded French, with a little something else.

      He was teasing her, and now she could actually breathe she could take a little teasing.

      She sighed. ‘No. I’m not going home. Not tonight anyway. Of course I want to see the fireworks.’ She held out her hands to the bodies pressed below. ‘Just not like this.’ The crowd had ground to a halt. She stared across at the sea of people. ‘I was supposed to be meeting my friends.’

      ‘You are lost?’ He sounded concerned.

      ‘Not exactly.’ She turned back to face him, getting a whiff of woody aftershave. ‘We were meeting at a sign near the Eiffel Tower.’ She shook her head. ‘I have absolutely no chance of getting there now.’

      She had no intention of leaving the safety of this wall any time soon. She only hoped his friends weren’t all about to join them and there’d be no room for her to stay here.

      He smiled as he looked down at all the people below. ‘You could be right. I’m sorry if I startled you but you looked frightened. I thought you were beginning to panic in the crowd.’

      Her heart had stopped fluttering in her chest and her breathing was settling down. It had been an odd feeling, and so not like her. Ruby Wetherspoon didn’t tend to panic.

      ‘I was. Thank you. I’ve never really been in a crowd like that before.

      It had definitely been a bit claustrophobic.’ She shook her coat free, letting some air circulate around her, and pulled her red hat from her hair.

      ‘There—that’s much better.’

      ‘It certainly is.’

      He was smiling appreciatively at her and for a second she was unnerved. But, no. There was nothing predatory about her rescuer. He had kind eyes, even if the man exuded sex appeal from twenty paces. If her up-close-and-personal alarm was going off it wasn’t because she was scared—it was because it had been jolted back into life. About time too.

      He nodded slowly. ‘Crowds can be...difficult.’

      It was an odd choice of words, but then again her hesitant French would sound much poorer than his English.

      ‘And you’d know?’ She was curious.

      His face crinkled. It seemed her half-inquisitive, half-sarcastic question was lost on him.

      She held out her hand towards him. ‘Ruby. Ruby Wetherspoon from England.’

      His warm hand closed around hers. ‘Alex,’ he said simply.

      Her eyes glanced up and down his body. White T-shirt, blue jeans and black boots. But the dark wool coat seemed a little strange for a young guy—a little formal.

      ‘Are you from here?’

      The corners of his lips turned upwards. ‘Close enough.’

      Mystery. She liked it. Perfect for New Year’s Eve.

      Under normal circumstances she might have felt a little nervous, a little wary around a mysterious stranger. But Alex didn’t give her those kind of vibes.

      Trust your instincts. That was what her gran had always told her. And she should have. Because if she had she probably wouldn’t have found her boyfriend in bed with her ex-best friend. Truth was, she couldn’t wait to see the end of this stinker of a year.

      She glanced around. For the moment they were the only two people perched on this precarious wall. ‘Well, Alex from “close enough”, where are your friends? Am I about to get trampled and thrown back to the crowd when they all want a place on this wall?’

      She sent a silent prayer upwards. What was the betting they were all gorgeous and female?

      He shrugged. ‘I lost them too. I climbed up here to look for them. Then I decided I liked the view.’

      She turned to face where he was looking. Of course. A perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. For now it had a row of white lights running up the outside of its edges. The sun had set a few hours ago and it stood out like a beacon in the dark sky.

      She’d been so busy fighting her way through the crowd that she hadn’t really had time to stop and take in the sight.

      ‘Wow. I just remembered why I came here,’ she breathed.

      A few people shouldered past beneath them, knocking into her feet, and she wobbled again. His arm rested around her waist to steady her, and he didn’t move it once she’d regained her balance.

      ‘So, why is an English girl in Paris for New Year’s Eve?’

      Why, indeed? She was still asking herself that question. And Mr Gorgeous Mysterious Stranger didn’t really need the whole truth. Maybe just a tiny part.

      ‘Visiting a boyfriend?’ he added.

      It was a loaded question. Was he really testing to see if she was taken?

      She sucked in a deep breath and tried not to let the idiot smile that was whooping and dancing around in her brain actually appear. ‘My flatmate Polly persuaded me it was time to try something new. We usually spend every New Year’s in London. We did try a Scottish lodge once, but that was a disaster. Snowed in with no power and no booze.’

      He was laughing at her now.

      She held out her hands. ‘What girl would say no to Paris on New Year’s? This place is just amazing...’ Her voice tailed off. ‘And, to be honest, I’m not sorry to see this year go.’

      ‘You’ve had a bad year?’

      ‘Somewhere between a wrecking ball and a demolition derby.’

      She could almost see his brain trying to make sense of her words.

      ‘Ahh. You sound sad. But surely not everything about this year can have been bad?’

      Perfect. Her own Pollyanna.

      He was right. Of course he was right. She’d just needed someone to remind her.

      She gave a little nod. ‘Of course not. There have been a few good things. I qualified this year.’

      ‘As what?’

      ‘A speech and language therapist.’

      ‘Well, that sounds great. Congratulations.’

      She nodded. ‘Yeah. Yes, it is.’

      Three years doing a course she’d absolutely loved. Her placements had been fabulous, letting her practice all her skills and making her realise exactly what she wanted to do.

      ‘So why aren’t you jumping for joy? You’ll get to do the job that you want. Some people would give anything for that.’

      His voice sounded a little wistful.

      Wow. She must sound an ungrateful misery-guts. But there was something easy about talking to a perfect stranger. Someone who didn’t know all the people or personalities involved. Someone completely independent.

      ‘I should be. I know. It’s just that I