“Hi,” Luke replied still staring at this girl with almond shaped eyes of dark espresso. Her skin shimmered like the finest rose-gold jewelry in the sun, as if copper and gold vied for dominance and settled on an enchanting harmony. She stared, startled, as if in awe of him as he was of her. He wondered at the change in his personal life force as he felt watching pink slowly darkened her cheeks from cheekbone to jaw line. His heart sped with this luxurious thickness. He could feel the moisture in the air, as if it gathered around her to create this flashing, glow around her. When he glanced at her lips, she’d just said, “hi,” her nose had does this interesting little flex thing that pulled on a small mole just above the right side of her lips.

Jeanine had several consecutive thoughts. She immediately wondered if he was staring between her eyes; she couldn’t recall ever having her gaze captured so completely. But then, his gaze strayed for just a moment. They hadn’t strayed to her ample chest, her birthmark on her neck. She licked her lips when he focused on them just before returning to her unblinking eyes. Another thought had her thanking her good sense to have put on her make-up before leaving the hotel in spite of the heat. She also questioned what had forced her to wear the very telling American jean overall shorts when there was always a possibility of needing to make a good first impression. Then, she wondered what she was supposed to remember as her eyes finally dropped to his broadening grin. He had nice lips; upon that assessment her gaze jumped to meet his.

His eyes twinkled with a tell-tale, knowing, masculine arrogance and humor. Dark olive-green irises were rimmed with a thick set of long, black lashes. He was happy about the affect he had on her, she surmised. His teeth showed now, in sheer pleasure, with his languorous inhalation.

“Uh… ummm, excuse me,” she whispered, stepping back. A small crowd of people passed them. Checking from beneath her fake eyelashes, she examined him. She saw that he had stepped back as well and courteously nodded a greeting to the keenly observant, older couple ambling leisurely behind the tween-cursed family.

“I was just-,” and then she remembered what she’d thought she’d forgotten, “in awe.” She motioned a hand toward the tree with a slowly flapping arm and limp wrist toward the Eiffel Tower’s leg. She eyed his brownish-red hair that fell just past his shoulders; it had highlights of sunset red.

“Wait ‘til you’re at the top. It’s pretty awesome.” He turned to really gaze at her view awesome engineering through the tree branches just to stop rudely staring at her. “It’s enclosed, but still…”

She turned to stand beside him. She swallowed; then explained, “I wanted to take my time and savor the ambience, but I’m kinda lost, I think. I’m obviously really close.” Standing next to him, she simultaneously couldn’t breathe and yet, could breathe more easily. She didn’t recognize the tension loosening down her back for what it was. But this new feeling was linked to this man who stood next to her.

“I’m sorry to say that you’re not really close. You still have quite a walk ahead of you. You don’t know where you’re going?” He checked for the map with his peripheral vision and had caught it sticking out of her rear pocket. He lingered on the view a moment longer. The voice in his head told him that it was just to be sure that it was a map sticking out of her back pocket. He knew better.

“I figured that with something that big, it would be pretty easy find.” She said stopping herself from shuffling her feet. She was fidgeting and needed to still herself. She took a breath and assured herself that she wasn’t openly second guessing herself. So, she stuck her chin out a little and smiled a huge smile, not knowing that her defiant and adventurous spirit flashed from her dark brown eyes. “Besides, if I used a map, I’d be looking for the names of streets and not seeing what is here.” She meant to motion to the buildings surrounding them but probably looked like a goose getting ready to take off.

He noted her awkwardness and his grin changed to one of indulgence. “I don’t want to get in the way but I could show you?” He offered and put his hand in his pocket while the other used its thumb to point the direction she was headed.

She didn’t hide her suspicion as reality truly started to intrude bringing with it its constant companion: caution. Her arched eyebrows angled down more sharply with her narrowed eyes.

“If you want, you can take a picture of me and send it to someone. I just need to call my friends to tell’em not to wait for me.” He motioned open-handed to his phone. “By the way, smiling like that cuts and looks like a challenge.” His expression provided the subtext “and really sexy.”

She had already taken a picture by the time he’d finished speaking.

The only people nearby that would care if she was with a stranger were the people with whom she was staying: Stephanie and her family. She noticed the phone in his hand, and so, forwarded his picture to Stephanie, one of her best friends since their participation in a high school exchange program. She texted: “I just met this guy and he’s showing me to the Eiffel Tower.” The text sounded really dumb in her head, but what is an adventure if not for stupid decisions. “Can I see your ID?” She blinked, wide-eyed, “So, I can get your name right.” Looking up to talk to him after her text, she saw that he was on his cell phone.

She heard Luke say into the phone, “Yeah, I’ll catch up later.” Then he turned to respond to her request. He’d taken the opportunity to call the friends, he’d mentioned while she’d been on her phone, texting. She’d caught the end of his conversation. How could she not have paid attention and maybe have listened in? Was it a real conversation? With whom? Another kidnap/murderer? He met her gaze without guile and extended one hand to her as if in greeting, “Hi, I’m Luke Summers.” The other hand was reaching for the side pocket of the cargo shorts.

Who made jean cargo shorts? Instead of asking this question out loud, she answered, “Jeanine. Jeanine Prisby.” She shook the offered hand and couldn’t miss how densely packed and defined the muscles were it. Part of her brain was screaming, “I get it. He’s muscular. Big deal. We like artists with BRAINS and not guys that could man-handle us into the Seine.” The other half that seemed to be in charge was focused on her revving blood-flow in blissful indifference to her judgmental and cautious self.

The ID he pulled from his pocket was a license from Maine that said he was Luke Summers, an image of which she also texted to Stephanie. She allowed him to maneuver her down the sidewalk once he’d placed the ID back into his wallet. She surveyed their surroundings and noted he was alone. It occurred to her that she might avoid a lot of headache if she were to have a blunt conversation and as usual she’d have to start it, “So, you’re single?”

“Yeah, I am.” He didn’t miss a beat in responding to her. “You?” he asked absent of any indication of being offended at the direct question. His broad smile made her think that he rather appreciated it. Or maybe, he just thought it was funny.

She suppressed any joy she might have demonstrated at his answer before she answered his question, “Yup.” She tried for nonchalance as she turned quickly to set off. “Who did you call?”

“The friends I’m on vacation with, who slept in. Wynonna, Wick’s girlfriendwas in charge of our vacation, but Paris, France; I don’t think it should’ve been a first choice for this crew.”

She felt a little disappointed that he’d rather not be in Paris. She had to ask, “Is it sucking?” For her, it was an incredible city full of history, beauty, and enignuity.

“I like it more now that I’m actually going out to see some things I’m interested in. I’m more interested in the buildings and bridges than the fashion, music, or clubs. I was hopeful after a couple said they were interested in going to see the museums. But we’re all interested in very different things. The gardens in Versailles were really high on my “to do” list.” He shrugged as if a realization was pleasant and inescapable. “As a whole right now, we’re more of a nightlife kind of people, though. And Paris has some pretty awesome clubs.”

She hadn’t visited the major tourist stops yet. The Eiffel Tower was to be her first stop. And no one in her host family was exactly nightlife kinds of people. “I bet.” She encouraged him noting his meandering commentary. “You’re at the Eiffel Tower,” she noted, “by yourself, too.”

“The guys needed to sleep in after last night.” He had an inward smile. “I took advantage of it.”

“The nightlife,” Jeanine confirmed.

Luke studied her and recalled the note on the floor and the woman who wrote it. Angel was going to kick his butt, not only for going out but for actively trying to pick up a girl, who happened to be an American. But he suspected this could be a pretty decent, vacation hook-up; she should be proud he was moving on. Everyone in the community of Green, Maine knew to not ignore Angel’s warnings. It just felt wrong, right at that moment.

He was tempted to use his true sight, an innate, family talent that sees auras and other stuff. Doing so could provide intimate information about her like her response to him as well as any malicious agenda she might have. However, he’d been taught that using one’s psychic talents on people without permission or relevant indicators triggering survival instincts was unethical. Personal information for intimate relationships should be volunteered or discovered in a mundane and verifiable manner. Angel’s condemnation of any relationship he might develop on vacation was pre-emptive sabotage rooted in good-intentioned but unethical use of her talents. He should proceed as if she hadn’t said anything, he decided. In following this logic, he also couldn’t violate his behavior ethics either. So, for now, he was going to just let the conversation flow and see where things led. A little paranormal risk was worth a little real world, aka the material dimension, reward. Besides, Jeanine was hot and in need of a little help.

“You didn’t?” She asked bringing him back from his inner discourse into their conversation.

“Nah, I’m usually up earlier than this. I’m a landscape architect. So, I’m usually up bright and early.” Inwardly, he grimaced. Landscape architect translated to gardener to most people, when it was so much more than pulling weeds and trimming hedges. It was an art resulting from the analysis of the local geology and habitat, the research necessary in developing a landscape design that complimented the personalities and desires of the client as well as the ability of the environment to support a garden. He wondered if she knew that or if he should point it out. How much did any of it matter?

“Where?” In her preoccupation, considering how he dropped his employment and thus earning potential, she almost tripped on a chalkboard sign in the middle of the sidewalk. Her resentful gaze landed the advertising of a three-course meal and an aperitif with a cost that translated to $30 USD.

He didn’t pause or shuffle as he easily navigated the sign and steered her clear of it. “Greene, Maine. You?”

“Colorado.” She blushed as she realized she’d forgotten she’d seen his license and should’ve known the answer to her question.

“I’ve some relatives up in Denver, I think.” They’d reached another corner when he suddenly stopped her. “Alright, take a deep breath.” He stepped into the sunlight just past the building and blocked her progress. “We’re here.” He got out his phone and held it up to take a photo of her. “I’ll text you the picture.”

She arched an eyebrow and mockingly grinned at him as she considered the fact that she’d have to give him her number, “Smooth.” And then she stepped forward from the shadow of the building and into the direct sunlight.

How many times could a heart jump in just a few minutes? The Eiffel Tower, an eyesore to most Frenchmen, was breathtaking to her. And the French government didn’t skimp on presentation. She immediately took photos though they were still quite far away at the end of a mall and still could only get the broad base into the frame. The people beneath it looked so tiny and slow moving as they ebbed to and fro. Flowers were an eruption of color at the foot of each leg. Then, she looked to Luke and heard what had to be the third click. The pictures would have the tower in the background. She then proceeded to take a 360 degree panoramic picture.

“So, I’m e-mailing and texting them all to you. Are you going up?”

She vigorously shook her head. “Nope, I’ve a few churches I need to visit and I really want to take a picture of Joan of Arc.” She answered inching forward to get a closer look at the structure.

He took larger steps to increase their pace toward the huge tourist attraction. He remembered that she’d avoided the question a few hundred feet back and had to ask, “Scared of heights?” Angel’s boyfriend, Marcus, hadn’t been keen on visiting the Eifel Tower at all for that very reason.

She took in people hanging out on the mall or going towards the icon before she cast studious eyes upon him again, “Did you go up?” She countered. She turned to take in the surrounding buildings and gardens.

“Oh yeah, but I got hungry and had to come back down.” Excitement colored his voice when he added, “I really liked the view and the sensation of standing so high up. It moves just a little. The top floor is enclosed though.” He found his observational skills accurate, when she paled a bit at the mention of the moving peak of the Tower. He felt a little sad that a girl, who’d wander such a vast city alone, let fear prevent her from such an awesome experience as climbing to the top of such a history rich structure.

Jeanine felt her eyes round in horror at the idea of being so high on an intricate metal frame that moves in the breeze. Yet she managed to distract Luke and herself. “Did I interrupt your forage for food?”

Mischief lit his eyes as he locked his gaze with hers, “Yes, you did. What are you going to do about it?”

“Suggest that little café that belonged to the sign I almost tripped over,” she answered sassily.