Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,88

out okay, and even if it didn’t, he could manage it. This was the complete and total opposite of how I lived my life, but for once, just this once, I was going to chill out and turn my penchant for punctuality over to the universe. If we were meant to go up in the tower, we would, and if we weren’t, we wouldn’t.

When our cab driver pulled to a stop near the tower, Jason settled up with him while I climbed out of the car. The night had gotten cold, and I wished I’d thought to bring a coat. I was going to freeze my butt off at the top. Oh well, what did the French say? C’est la vie. It was totally worth it.

“Come on.” Jason grabbed my hand again. “We have to run for it!”

I was not exactly in running footwear, but at least I wasn’t in stilettos. I let him pull me through the crowd, past the carousel, and across the street, toward the entrance. Dashing into the park, we hurried through the darkness and passed the tchotchke sellers with their blankets spread on the ground displaying tiny Eiffel Towers flashing in all colors.

Our time-stamped tickets put us in the fast lane, and we blitzed through security and the metal detectors. Up the stairs we went, pausing to show our tickets to a man at a desk. He gestured for us to go on, and we crossed a small room and got in line with a bunch of other overdressed people for the elevator that would take us to the second floor. The elevator came swiftly, and Jason hustled me into the car. Although we were level, the car moved on a slant up the leg and into the belly of the tower. I noticed that Jason was still holding my hand. I would have pulled away, but my fingers were cold and his were warm.

We climbed out at the second floor, but there was no time to look at the view, as we had to catch the lift to the summit. Up some more stairs and into the queue, which snaked around the platform. The line moved swiftly, as it was near the end of the evening, and we stepped into the narrow hallway to catch the elevator.

There were four elevators in operation, two red and two yellow, and they worked in pairs as a counterweight for each other. When one elevator emptied, Jason hustled me inside. I was pressed up against the glass with him standing behind me, making a cage out of his body to protect me from the swarm of people who pushed into the lift with us.

They could have crushed me, and I wouldn’t have cared. Now, after all this time, I understood why Paris was called the City of Light. It wasn’t just because of its prominence during the Age of Enlightenment. As we rose up into the sky in a slow glide, I stared out the glass, past the intricate ironwork, at the beautiful golden lights of the city laid out before me. It was breathtaking.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Jason whispered in my ear.

I turned my head and found him staring at me, our faces just inches apart. I studied his long-lashed, pretty eyes and square jaw with just the right amount of scruff and said, “Yes, it is.”

An awareness passed between us, and he smiled at me before he looked back out at the city. “When we reach the top, we’ll have just a few minutes to wait before the light show. I read that they only illuminate the tower with sparkling lights for five minutes at the top of every hour.”

“Good timing,” I said. The words were stilted, as I was now excruciatingly aware of the man standing at my back. I wanted to lean into his warmth, but that would be weird, right? I’d started the night on a date with one man, and now I was here, at the most romantic place in the world, with a guy that up until quite recently I had loathed with every molecule I possessed. The whole situation was most definitely bad form, or was it Paris? I had no idea.

The lift stopped and we stepped out. We were in the glassed-in part of the tower. It was crowded, but Jason took my hand and led me up the narrow stairs to outside. The wind hit me right in the face, and I shivered. My wrap was utterly useless. Without