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She stopped only long enough to take a breath.
The Eiffel Tower turned red.
“What on earth?”
“Light show,” Julien said. “They do it every night. But we can pretend it’s just for us if you want.”
“I want. God, I want.”
She wanted to kiss him again and so she did. Or perhaps he kissed her this time. What did it matter who kissed whom as long as the kiss never ever ended? For four years they’d had this unfinished business hanging between them. Maybe they should finish it.
“I missed you,” Julien said against her lips. “I kept trying to forget you, and I couldn’t.”
“I think of you every Christmas,” she whispered back. “Christmas hasn’t been the same since that night. No matter what I get it’s never what I want.”
“What do you want?” Julien asked and she knew he wasn’t asking about Christmas gifts.
“Another Christmas with you,” she whispered.
“You can have that,” he said. “And me if you want.”
She rested her forehead against his. One minute. That’s all she needed was one minute of not kissing to clear her head so she could think straight.
“Julien, if we get involved, our parents are going to kill us,” she said. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t get involved. I’m just saying there will be consequences.”
“My mother thinks it’s shameful Arden Farms has a female manager. My father routinely calls you a slut. And your family and my family are somehow making millions of dollars off a staged horse rivalry. You think I care what they think?”
“Yes,” she said. “Same way I care about what my parents think, because they love me and I love them even if they are pissing me the hell off right now.”
“I care too,” he admitted. “But not enough to stop kissing you.”
“No more kissing until we get back to your bedroom. You kiss me again like that, and we’ll never make it back.”
“Kiss you like what?” he asked as he half-dragged her off of the bench.
“Kiss me like you haven’t kissed anybody in a really long time and you need to make up for lost time.”
“Would it completely freak you out if I told you that was true?”
“No, of course not. We all have dry spells.”
“This is a little more than a dry spell,” Julien said, looking sheepish. She knew that look. Julien had worn that same expression right before confessing he was only seventeen.
“What is it, Julien? You can tell me.”
“That’s kind of a long story.”
“You have a lot of long stories. You ran away from Kentucky and moved to Paris to get away from your parents who were mean to me. You have an assistant who isn’t your assistant but who lives with you. And you’ve had more than a dry spell? What’s going on? Tell me.”
“Dry spell is an understatement,” he said.
“Oh shit.” Remi covered her mouth with her hand.
“Don’t ask,” he said, a look of quiet desperation in his eyes. “Please.”
“Oh my God.”
“I have a good excuse, I swear.”
