Placing the phone on the table, I took a gentler sip of my tea. Eyes closed, I savored the sweet flavor with a touch of creaminess from the milk I’d added. The voices of other patrons drifted around me, most speaking French, their voices soft and melodic. I’d always loved the French language and the way native speakers let the words roll off their tongues even when they spoke fast. Until tonight, I’d mostly heard the language in movies and in French pop music, and I hadn’t had a chance to learn much of it before coming here.

A chair scraped on the concrete patio of the cafe.

Sighing, I opened my eyes to gaze at the newcomer who had taken a seat at the table across from mine.

The tall, muscular man seemed to overflow the chair. He fidgeted as if trying to get comfortable, his mouth crimping briefly before he relaxed into the seat. His blond hair framed a face with smooth, elegant features. The glow from the cafe’s lantern-like lights sparkled in his eyes, though I couldn’t make out their color. Thick biceps strained the fabric of his long-sleeve, cobalt-blue shirt. His jeans hugged his powerful thighs.

His attention swung in my direction, and his lips curved into a soft smile. As his gaze swept up and down my body, his smile warmed.

Something about him intrigued me. Maybe it was his smile or angelic good looks or his well-built body—well-hung too, based on the bulge in his pants. Then again, maybe it was something more indefinable.

What had Serena said? Get yourself a hot young Parisian man.

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Ogling him was one thing, but speaking to him…

His smile had turned positively sizzling.

Sitting up straighter, I smoothed my dress, glad I’d worn a sexy one. My inner critic had warned me not to bother with sexiness since I had no interest in men, but I’d suffered an irresistible impulse to wear the dress I’d bought on a whim last week. The deep, lush green fabric complemented my eyes. The backless design featured spaghetti straps, a low neckline with a knot between my breasts, a skirt that flared out around my thighs, and a hem that stopped a good six inches above my knees. When I sat down, the hem rode up a little higher. The strappy stilettos I’d worn gave my ankles a nice curve. I loved the decadent sensation of a breeze caressing my bare back, but going without underwear felt scandalously indecent.

The man sitting across from me could see all of the dress, all of me, thanks to the fact I was positioned sideways to him. His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips. His gaze landed on my face.

My pulse sped up, and every hair on my arms and my nape tingled and stiffened.