slid the overnight case from him. “Consider me impressed. Please give your friend my deepest thank you.”
“He’s out of the country for a couple of weeks. But he assured me he’d alerted the staff to take good care of us. Do you want to rest for a bit?” He took the backpack off and Angela began walking him around the room, making sure he knew where the furniture and any tripping hazards were.
“Rest? No. No way! I slept on the plane, and I know you did too because I could hear you snoring.”
“What? I did not snore.” But Ryan grinned.
“Like a freight train,” she teased.
“I’m surprised you heard me. What with all the mumbling and moaning you were doing. What were you dreaming about, Angela?”
She was glad he couldn’t see the red stain on her face. “Which room is mine?”
He reached out for her. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Angela took his hand and found it deliciously scandalous to be following a handsome man into a bedroom in a foreign city known as a place for falling in love. She pushed those devilish thoughts from her mind and concentrated on her surroundings. They left the living room, and she glanced into the kitchen—galley styled, stone countertops, all black and white with cranberry accents. Very elegant and very French.
The rich four poster bed made her heart sigh. This was a place for a queen. Not for her.
Ryan was beside her. Her shoulder grazing his bicep. “What’s wrong, Angela?” he whispered.
Gah. Her nose tingled. “Wrong? Nothing. Everything is perfect.”
He slipped an arm around her and hugged her shoulders. It wasn’t intimate. Just brotherly. And she was suddenly thankful for Ryan, for his kindness, his friendship. “While you unpack, decide what you want to see first.”
“Everything!” She’d burst if she didn’t get outside and begin exploring.
Ryan laughed. “Okay, okay. We’ll see everything. But what do you want to see first?”
Angela gave a half shrug. “Everything.”
“We’ll start at Notre Dame. We can’t tour inside right now—it’s closed due to the fire, but it’s such an amazing structure. For the best view, we’ll visit the Brasserie Le Notre Dame for an espresso or a café au lait. Their croissants are delicious. They melt in your mouth, and we’ll need the fuel. Although, I’m not sure you need the caffeine.”
He was correct. She was bouncing like Tigger on the inside. One little push and she’d be springing up and down on the fine Egyptian rug beneath her sensible shoes.
Angela unpacked in record time after showing Ryan to his room and alerting him where the hazards were. Since he’d stayed here before, he appeared to be at ease, so she rushed back to her royal quarters and tossed her things in the armoire. She arranged her toiletries in neat rows on the bathroom counter, and then she stared out her bedroom window at the city beneath, scarcely believing she was there. Less than a dozen hours ago she was on Wishing Beach Island. Now, she was in Paris. When Ryan hollered to ask if she was ready, she bounded from her room.
They walked arm in arm, and Ryan used his cane—something he didn’t do often back home. “Is it easier to navigate here with your cane?”
“It’s more about feeling confident. It keeps my mind from wondering if there’s suddenly something that might trip me up. Even the sidewalks date back hundreds of years. Level they are not. Plus, it frees you up to look around instead of constantly making sure the path is clear.”
While staying in step with the other early morning travelers, they walked until she saw the cathedral. As they neared the massive structure, she noticed how much grander it was than any photos or movies could ever portray, even with the various tell-tale signs of renovation, the cathedral was breathtaking. For a few moments, she could only pause and stare. “Stunning.”
“I used to come here in the early morning hours with an espresso and a laptop. “The inspiration is pretty intense. In the fall, fog rolls up over the cathedral and it looks like something from another time and another world. Ethereal.”
Angela glanced over. He was wearing sunglasses, as he so often did, but she could see his profile and had to wonder if Paris was as inspiring for him now. Now that he was mostly sightless. She squeezed his arm a little tighter. Her gaze trailed across the street. “I’m so aware I’m no longer stateside.”
“Well, the French signs will do that.”
“Not just that.