Royally Seduced. Marie Donovan

years to finish.”

      She concentrated on keeping her footing and only looked up when they emerged onto a long, narrow suspension bridge. It was as if they were in a misty watercolor illustration of a fantasy novel heavy with wizards and princesses. She couldn’t resist taking more photos, this time one-handed.

      The bridge towered over a serene lake that reflected up the greens, yellows and reds of the surrounding trees. She realized they were still holding hands, but didn’t let go. She’d enjoyed Paris, but missed Sarah badly. Sightseeing by herself wasn’t as much fun as with someone else. A travel buddy gave her the chance to say, Wow, look at that, or even spotting something funny and giving a nudge to share in the joke.

      Lily looked sideways at Jack and was surprised to see how much he had relaxed. “You’re not much of a city boy, are you?” They started to cross the wooden planks of the bridge, the steel railings making decorative geometric patterns of triangles and rectangles.

      He smiled, his white teeth showing through his thick beard. She wondered what he looked like under all that hair. Just her luck, he would have no chin or a weird facial tattoo. “No, I would rather be in the country. Once I have finished in Paris, I am going south, to Provence.”

      “Provence,” she tested the name on her tongue. “You’re from there.”

      “My family is. I don’t get there as often as I like.” He cleared his throat. “But enough about me. What do you do when you are not traveling?”

      Hmm. She didn’t want to tell him she was writing travel articles because he might worry she was writing down everything he said. “I’m a freelance writer. I write magazine and newspaper articles on anything I can get paid for—history, local sights—I’ve even covered school-board meetings and supermarket grand openings.”

      “Ah.” He nodded thoughtfully.

      “What, ah?”

      “That is why you want to learn about the real Paris, the real France. People interest you as much as the places.”

      “Hmm. I’ve never thought of it that way. I just wanted to keep busy and keep getting jobs.” They came to the end of the bridge and Lily pulled her hand free from his, pointing up to the Roman temple-looking thing on the hill in front of them. “Wow, look at that.” She supposed she could have used her other hand to point, but she was starting to like holding his hand a little too much.

      Her danger signals were flashing: romantic park setting in Paris—check. Hand-holding with a well-spoken, seemingly decent guy—check. Not remembering the last time she held any male body part—check.

      Jack pulled a water bottle from his small backpack and drank. “One more thing to see before we climb.” He took a deep breath and headed down the trail toward the lake.

      Lily fought a pang of irrational disappointment that he didn’t take her hand again, but the man obviously could read mixed signals as fast as she sent them. She followed Jack and stopped next to a weeping willow tree, its yellowish branches and silvery green leaves drooping over the path. “Sing willow, willow, willow. Sing all a green willow will be my garland.” She couldn’t help grabbing a handful of branches and clutching them to her in pure dramatic fashion. She was such an English major geek.

      Jack stopped. “Othello, right?”

      Her jaw fell. He wasn’t even a native English speaker and he knew enough Shakespeare to understand her obscure reference? “Very good.” She sounded like Sarah at her most teacher-ish.

      “Shakespeare in the Park.” Central Park, NYC, that is. He started walking again.

      “I went to that once! But they did one of the comedies, not a tragedy. Which do you like better?”

      “The comedies, of course. Real life has enough sadness already.”

      “True. And I never liked the character of Othello. He had everything he ever wanted and tossed it away because Iago preyed on his insecurities. Weak.” She shook her head. “And strangling his wife, Desdemona—what a creep.”

      “The man did die by his own hand in the end,” Jack pointed out.

      “He should have done everyone a favor and done that first. Or maybe he could have even believed his wife was telling the truth about being faithful to him and then gone and kicked Iago’s ass for making trouble.”

      “Unfortunately, marital fidelity and ass-kicking make for dull theater.”

      “Not if they have a good fight choreographer for the ass-kicking scene. Those guys can make thumb-wrestling look fascinating.”

      “Thumb-wrestling?”

      Aha, so there was at least one American tradition he didn’t know about. She was about to lift her hand to show him but realized they’d be holding hands again, albeit in a combative manner. “I’ll show you later.” She dropped the willow branches and turned toward the sound of rushing water.

      Jack stood there gazing up at the tree. “Aspirin is derived from willow bark—the scientific name salicylic acid comes from the willow genus Salix.”

      She turned slowly to stare at him. “How do you know that?”

      “Science class.”

      Lily raised her eyebrows. “You must have paid better attention in science class than I did.” She was lucky to recall that the scientific name for humans was Homo sapiens.

      “I know you have your own strengths.” He moved close and for a second, she thought he would kiss her under the umbrella of the bowing branches. But he must have picked up her hesitation again and withdrew, the gleam in his brown eyes shuttered. “Allons! Let’s go see the waterfall.”

      “Okay.” She followed him, expecting to see a stream burbling over a shallow drop, but instead they stepped into another grotto, with a high waterfall thundering down to a pool at their feet. “Holy cow, look at that. And this is part of that same quarry?”

      He nodded and tipped his face up to the water, little droplets condensing on his cheeks. She closed her eyes and did the same, exhaling deeply as some of her tension flowed away.

      Traveling without Sarah had been more stressful than she realized. She had to be constantly alert to where she was and who she was near. And the language barrier—well, that wasn’t so bad. Sarah had been right that there were plenty of English speakers roaming Paris.

      Like Jack. He was a bit of a puzzle—scruffy-looking but clean and obviously well-educated with a variety of knowledge. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with an enigmatic expression.

      “You rarely find places like this in any city.”

      “No.” She shook her head in agreement. “There’s nothing like it in Philadelphia or New York.”

      “That is a replica of the Roman temple of Daphne.” He pointed up to the round Grecian-looking building. “It’s the highest point in the park and you can see all the way across Paris to the Sacre-Coeur Cathedral.”

      “Great!” Lily checked her camera to make sure she had plenty of space on her memory card and set off after him. The stairs were cut into the rock as before and twisted around as they ascended. She was so excited that she didn’t realize Jack had fallen behind. He waved her on when she stopped. “Just getting a drink—I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”

      She was too excited to drink and quickly got to the top. “Oh,” she gasped. It was just as Jack had said, the best view in the city. She looked down on all the cute neighborhoods and across northeast Paris to the white dome of Sacre-Coeur Cathedral. She grabbed her camera and took shots from every angle, zooming in on the cathedral and the houses below. The bridge made a cool composition with the surrounding trees reflecting in the water. “‘A favorite of local Parisians, Parc Butts-Something-Or-Other is a hidden treasure of greenery amidst the noisy city.’” Yes, that introductory