a word, Jason shrugged out of his jacket and put it around my shoulders, pulling me close and keeping me protected within the circle of his arm. Well, how about that. Knightley was a gentleman.
We took in the view: the blue beam shining from the top, the bright city lights rolling all the way to the horizon, and just below, the tour boats and dinner cruises on the Seine. It was stunning. Jason excused himself and went to the small window of the Bar à Champagne to fetch our drinks. He returned with two glasses and a big smile.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t Aidan be proud of us spending time together like this? We haven’t even argued.”
“I think shock would be a more likely reaction,” I said.
“To Aidan,” Jason said. He lifted his glass, and I tapped mine against his.
“To Aidan.”
We took hearty sips. I wasn’t sure whether it was to calm my nerves at being over nine hundred feet in the air with the wind whipping around me or in the hope that the alcohol would warm me up. I just knew that this champagne was the best I’d ever tasted. Maybe it was the altitude; possibly it was the company. All I knew for certain was that I felt, quite literally, on top of the world. People moved around us, but we didn’t give up our little patch of real estate.
Jason shivered. He was obviously getting cold in just his dress shirt. I moved close to him and put my arm around his back, pressing myself into his side. When he glanced down in surprise, I said, “Body heat.”
He grunted and pulled me in closer. “You keep surprising me, Martin.”
“Do I?” I asked. I knew I probably shouldn’t be pleased by this, but I found that I liked that I could surprise him. Honestly, it was nice to surprise myself as well.
“Yeah, in the best possible way.” His voice sounded gruff, and he finished his champagne and waited for me to do the same. When I did, he returned our glasses to the bar. Then he took his cell phone and his wireless AirPods out of his pocket. “Tell me, Martin, have you ever danced on the top of the Eiffel Tower?”
“Nope, I can’t say that I have,” I said.
“Cool.”
He handed me one of the earpieces, and I tucked it into my ear. He did the same and then tapped the display on his phone before putting it back into his pants pocket. He held out his arms, and as the distinctive orchestral opening to “La vie en rose” began to play, I slipped into his embrace, and Edith Piaf began to belt out the lyrics, casting a spell around us with her voice singing about her special man whose love made her see life as rosy.
There wasn’t much room to move, but that didn’t stop Jason from leading me around in a tight circle and then twirling me within his arms, making my dress flare out. I felt like a 1940s film star, beautiful, glamorous, and oh so sexy. It was a balm to my battered soul.
Together we moved as the wind tugged at our clothes and the conversations of the people around us fell away. Jason pulled me in close, and I could feel the heat of him wrap around me as strongly as his arms. I felt my heart soar up in my chest as the scent of him, a low note of amber dusted with cardamom and mint, filled my senses. I wanted to curl up in the smell of him, as if he were my favorite cow pajamas. It was a comforting scent that made me feel . . . at home.
Edith hit a sweet high note just as I pulled back to glance up at his face. My heels gave me an extra two inches of height, making my gaze level with his mouth, and I couldn’t help but notice the generous curve of his lips.
“Hey, eyes up here, Martin,” he teased.
I glanced up, and the laughter in his gaze made me smile, but the heat in his eyes caused my breath to stutter stop in my lungs. That look. It was the sort that went to a girl’s head, making her think a man was consumed by her. It was an impossible look to resist. Throwing common sense and caution off the tower like confetti, I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him down so that I could kiss