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Deacon studied her for a moment as if he were making some type of decision. Then he tossed his napkin on the table and got to his feet. “Okay, you’re right. He would’ve welcomed us like long-lost relatives.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her so deeply that she felt it all the way down to the marrow of her bones. When he pulled back, he was smiling. “Now what are you going to do to make it up to me?”
They stayed awake until close to two in the morning so she could make it up to him—although it wasn’t much of a chore. Deacon could be as tender at lovemaking as he was tough at business. In the morning they had breakfast in bed before heading out to see the sights.
They spent most of their time at the Louvre. Olivia couldn’t seem to get her fill of the priceless paintings and sculptures. Her mind worked overtime as she imagined how she could use the different colors and textures of the art in her designs. That evening they had dinner at a little café. The same café that had been in the painting in Michael’s office.
“How did you know where to find it?” she asked.
“The name was in the painting,” he said absently.
Olivia looked at him, noticing for the first time how intently he was studying the shop across the street. It was a touristy shop that sold souvenirs, but there was something so familiar about the bay window and the purple door—
“Oh my gosh. Do you think that could be the shop that inspired French Kiss?” she asked.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
The woman working behind the counter of the shop confirmed that it had indeed sold lingerie at one time. She pulled out a picture that was almost identical to Michael’s painting. Olivia was thrilled and took numerous pictures of the shop.
“It’s just like fate wanted us to find it,” she said as she stood in front clicking her phone camera.
Deacon waited for her to finish before he took her hand and led her away from the quaint shop. “Yes,” he said. “It must be fate.”
