And one final photograph of Dan leaning over to kiss Jess, the look on his face so tender and fierce that Jess’s breath caught, and she wondered if Victorine had managed to freeze that moment on film, or whether Jess would only be able to recall the sense of it later, blurred by passing time, but still precious.

At long last, Victorine began to yawn and the sky lost its brilliance, discolored by dusk. Reluctantly, without saying they were leaving, Jess collected their things and Dan picked up Victorine, lying her across the back seat, where she sleepily protested that she wasn’t tired, only to fall instantly into slumber. Before he climbed into the jeep, Dan pulled Jess toward him and began to kiss her with promise, all her senses stirred at the touch of his lips on hers.

“I cannot concentrate on anything, least of all driving, if you do that,” she murmured. “Let’s get back to Paris, drop Victorine at school and then…”

She stopped because the longing in Dan’s eyes was too much.

He leaned his forehead against hers until his breath steadied. “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

A sleepy Victorine kissed Jess goodbye once they reached the school and seemed happy enough to let Dan go, the unexpected joy of spending an entire day with him enough to satisfy her for a time. Jess’s heart ached for the little girl whose life was so far from normal, and to whom the gift of a few hours with the man she now called Papa was all she wished for—not Christmas presents or candy or a puppy or any of the other things a girl her age might ordinarily dream of.

“So, my place or yours?” Jess asked when Dan returned. “Who are the biggest gossips, GIs or journalists?”

“GIs,” they both said at the same time, laughing.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of this,” Jess hastened to add. “I just like that nobody else knows, so they can’t give us their commentary or analysis on what we’re doing and why we’re doing it and—”

“I know,” Dan said, leaning across to kiss her again, even more intensely than before and desire swept through her so fiercely that she could do nothing other than return the kiss and wish they could click their fingers and be alone together in her room at the Scribe.

“I thought I told you to stop that,” she said against his lips. “Perhaps we should talk about how exactly I’m going to get you through the lobby without anyone noticing. That might make you behave for a minute.”

He smiled. “Maybe for a minute. Why don’t we just have a drink at the bar—everyone knows we’re friends so no one will think that’s strange—and then I’ll sneak up to your room first under the pretext of talking to one of the SHAEF PROs and you can come up after me when it’s safe.”

“But that means I have to sit through an entire drink with you when all I want to do is—”