A group of tourists strolled by, blocking her view of Quentin. She stood on tiptoe, wishing, not for the first time, that she were taller. Her height, topping out at five-two, had been the bane of her existence for as long as she could remember.
Which was why she hated supermodels.
Like Giselle.
Moments later Quentin reappeared, his arms tucked behind his back.
Lexi shook her head at him. “I don’t care how pretty—”
He handed her a beautiful bouquet of fresh-cut flowers, and she gasped with shocked pleasure. Roses and anemones, from her favorite van Gogh print that he’d given her years ago!
“Oh, Quentin… Damn.”
He smiled down at her. “Truce?”
She buried her nose in the fragrant flowers and sighed. “Truce.”
His smile widened.
“You are very lucky woman!” the street vendor called out to Lexi.
“Merci beaucoup!”she called back, not bothering to correct the woman’s assumption that she and Quentin were a couple.
Quentin glanced at his watch, then took her hand and started purposefully down the cobbled street.
“Where are we going?” Lexi asked curiously.
“We have an appointment.”
“To do what?”
“You’ll see.”
Something in his enigmatic tone sent off warning bells in her head. She pulled up short, tugging her hand free of his. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me where we’re going.”
He scowled at her. “Damn, baby girl. Why can’t you just go with the flow?”
“Quentin,” she said warningly.
He heaved a short, frustrated breath. “I’m taking you on a hot-air balloon ride.”
“What?” The blood drained from Lexi’s head. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’ll be fun. Flying over the region, getting an aerial view.”
She swallowed dryly. “It’s too cold.”
He gave her a knowing look. “We’ve been walking around for hours, and you haven’t complained about the weather once.”
“Yeah, but going thousands of feet into the air—”
“Ever heard of heat rising?”
“Actually, that’s a myth. Nice try, though.”
