“We are mature adults who are fully capable of not tearing each other’s clothes off in public. We’ll be fine,” she said primly, more to convince herself than him.

They walked along the sidewalk with their hands grazing against each other’s. Each barely there touch sent a shiver down her back. It was the most contact they could have since they couldn’t hold hands in public, but it was more than enough to keep her heart racing.

It was a lovely sunny day with a cool morning breeze. They walked in silence for a few blocks enjoying their surroundings and allowing their desire to simmer down.

“How come you never told me about living in Paris?” Seth glanced at her, then looked forward again.

Why? He was leaving soon. She didn’t want to be reminded of it by mentioning Paris. “I don’t know. It never came up, I guess.”

“I see.” His brows were still furrowed. It was obvious he didn’t see.

She sighed. There was no use burying her head in the sand anymore. “It was the summer after my freshman year. I was so in love with wines that I wanted to learn more about it during vacation. But I didn’t want to do something boring like summer school, so I signed up for a summer wine program in Paris. It was such a place of romance and history. Learning about their wine and winemaking process seemed like a treat.”

“And was it?” Seth asked.

“It really was. I loved it there and made some great friends. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“You should look me up if you decide to visit Paris again,” he said lightly.

Her heart fell to her stomach, then lodged itself in her solar plexus. What is that supposed to mean? Was he suggesting a vacation fling after this one? He was so casual about reminding her that he would be gone soon. Was it going to be that easy for him to say goodbye to her? She couldn’t even think about him leaving without anxiety squeezing at her heart. But that was her. It wasn’t fair for her to expect more from Seth.

“Yeah, sure.” She hoped her tone matched his nonchalance. “If you promise to buy me a triple cone from Berthillon.”

“It’s a deal,” Seth said with a crooked smile.

“I wasn’t finished,” she admonished. “I also want a sugar and butter crepe from a street vendor, and to eat it sitting on the grassy hill at Sacré-Cœur.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

“Only because I’m worth it.” She arched her brow and dared him to contradict her.

“You certainly are,” he said, his appreciative glance traveling over her body. “Anything else? Do you want to ride on the carousel at Trocadéro?”

“Oh, please no. That carousel is ridiculously fast. I hung on for dear life the one time I rode it. The view of the Eiffel Tower became a giant blur.” She hugged her stomach. “I couldn’t look at the Eiffel Tower without getting nauseous for weeks.”