“What?” he exclaimed, coming to a complete stop.
“My sister and I saw you rescue that girl.”
Vincent stared at me blankly.
“The girl who jumped off the Carrousel Bridge during that gang fight. Your friend escorted us away and told us it was a police procedure.”
“Oh, he did?” Vincent muttered, his expression assuming the hardened look it’d had the first time I met him. He thrust his hands back into his pockets and continued walking. We were getting closer to the Métro stop. I slowed my pace to buy a little more time.
“So what are you guys, undercover cops?” I didn’t believe it for a second, but tried to sound sincere. His sudden change in mood had intrigued me.
“Something like that.”
“What, kind of like a SWAT team?”
He didn’t respond.
“That was really brave, by the way,” I insisted. “Your diving into the river. What did the girl have to do with the gang fighting under the bridge, anyhow?” I asked, digging further.
“Um, I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Vincent said, studying the concrete a few inches in front of his feet.
“Oh yeah. Of course,” I said lightly. “You just look really young to be a cop.” I couldn’t stop a facetious smile from spreading across my lips.
“I told you . . . I’m a student,” he said, giving me an uncertain grin. He could tell I didn’t buy it.
“Yeah. Okay. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything,” I said dramatically.
Vincent laughed, his good mood returning. “So . . . Kate, what are you doing this weekend?”
“Um . . . no plans,” I said, silently cursing my reddening cheeks.
“Do you want to do something?” he asked, with a smile so charming that my heart forgot to beat.
I nodded, since I couldn’t speak.
Taking my silence as hesitation, he added quickly, “Not like a formal date or anything. Just hanging out. We can . . . take a walk. Wander around the Marais.”
I nodded again, and then managed to get out, “That would be great.”
“Okay, how about Saturday afternoon? Daylight. In public. A perfectly safe thing to do with a guy you barely know.” He held up his hands as if showing he wasn’t hiding anything.
I laughed. “Don’t worry. Even if you are on a SWAT team, I’m not afraid of you.” As soon as it was out of my mouth I realized that I was afraid. Just a little bit. I wondered once more if that was his pull on me. Maybe my parents’ deaths had left me with a lack of self-preservation and it was the hint of danger that I was going for. Or maybe I was attracted to the vague aura of untouchable aloofness that he exuded. Maybe all he was to me was a challenge. Whatever the reason, it was effective. I really liked this guy. And I wanted to see him again. Night, day, I didn’t care. I’d be there.
He lifted an eyebrow and chuckled. “Not afraid of me. How . . . amusing.” I couldn’t help myself from laughing along.
Nodding the other direction down the boulevard, he said, “Jules is probably waiting for me. See you Saturday. Meet you outside the rue du Bac Métro station at three?”
“Saturday, three o’clock,” I confirmed as he turned and walked away. I don’t think it would be exaggerating much to say that my feet didn’t touch the ground the whole way home.
Chapter Six
VINCENT WAS WAITING FOR ME BY THE MÉTRO entrance. My heart caught in my throat as I wondered (not for the first time) why this too-gorgeous-to-be-true guy had any interest whatsoever in plain old . . . okay, maybe slightly pretty, but by no means beautiful on his level . . . me. My insecurity crumbled when I saw his face light up as I approached.
“You came,” he said as he leaned in to give me the bises, those double-cheeked air-kisses that Europeans are famous for. Though I shivered when his skin touched mine, my cheeks were warm for a good five minutes afterward.
“Of course,” I said, drawing on every drop of my “cool and confident” reserve, since, to tell the truth, I was feeling a bit nervous. “So, where are we off to?”
We began walking down the steps to the subway tracks. “Have you been to the Village Saint-Paul?” he asked.