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She gave me a withering look. “You don’t have to try this hard.”

“And what, exactly, am I trying to do?”

“You’re trying…” She stopped herself, then rolled her eyes. “You know what you’re doing.”

I did, and I didn’t at the same time. Meanwhile, the festival-goers began crowding in, forcing us to stand closer and closer, until we were touching each other. Lost in a sea of faces. I pointed to the sky and whispered in her ear. “The show is about to begin.”

“Show?”

Overhead, the first of the fireworks cracked open against the dark sky, sending gold and red sparks raining down over the harbor. Unprepared for the explosion, she jumped into my arms, wrapping hers around my waist, nails digging in, cheek pressed against my chest.

I closed my eyes, relishing the feeling, then slowly put my arm around her.

Wake up, I told myself. This can’t be real.

But when I opened my eyes again, she was still there, looking at me. I struggled to tear my attention away from her face. She was beautiful. Fierce. So, so wet.

Another firecracker exploded, and the sky illuminated once again. She jumped, and I held her tighter. We watched the fireworks as they fell from the heavens, or rather, I was trying to keep my eyes on the sky and not her. Because even though I was awake, this was just a dream. And all dreams came to an end.

I drew a breath I didn’t need, just beside her hair, and caught the unmistakable scent of pheromones. I’d been around pity for so long; a woman’s desire was a welcome change.

“This might sound out of place, but…” She turned to look at me with those extraordinary eyes.

I leaned in closer, holding her gaze. She ran her tongue over her lips. I waited. Transfixed. Until the unmistakable sound of my son’s voice broke whatever spell had fallen over me.

“Papa!” Adrien shouted as he came racing down the quay. Her gaze flicked past me and toward the small boy barreling toward us.

“Papa?” she whispered, glancing back at me—a question in her eyes.

I nodded. “Yes. I am Papa.”

I didn’t have the words to tell her I was a widower, because how did you explain all of that to a perfect stranger in a handful of seconds?

Adrien skidded to a halt beside us. “Well done! You caught her!”

The woman turned slowly to look at me. “Caught her?”

An awkwardness I’d never experienced before seized hold of me. I looked from my son to this woman, trying to find an explanation. “Well,” I started, but it was Adrien who finished the sentence.

“We were watching you through my telescope,” he explained unhelpfully, pointing to my balcony at Château du Mer. “Papa saw you running toward that dinghy.”

Her eyes widened. “You were watching me through a telescope?”

“We weren’t watching you like that,” I said quickly. “It was more casual stargazing. Then we heard you scream, and—well…” I didn’t know what else to say that would help this situation.

“Papa said you looked like a figurehead,” Adrien added.

She lifted a brow. “A figurehead?”

I closed my eyes and gripped the bridge of my nose. “A passing comment on…” I stopped short of finishing that sentence.

“He said sailors carve women like you on ships,” Adrien continued proudly. “Because of your⁠—”

“Adrien!” I snapped in warning.

“What?”

Smiling politely, but wanting to strangle him, I reverted. “I told you that is not a gentlemanly thing to say.”