They walked all the way up rue Lafayette and turned on avenue Secrétan, until they reached a large park. Adrien took her hand and led her up a soft hill.

“You know where we are?” he asked.

“Buttes Chaumont?”

He nodded. “This is my favorite park in Paris.”

“It’s beautiful.”

As they walked up the slope, she drank in the colors, shapes, and smells around her. Her parents had brought her here as a child, but she had never come back. Too far, too busy, too many other places to be and things to do.

As she rediscovered the vista, she marveled at how completely different it was from all the other primly formal Parisian parks. With no geometric patterns, impeccable flower arrangements, or rows of square bushes, the park wasn’t French; it was a wildly romantic English garden. It had grottos and cascades, artificial lakes and bridges leading to a rocky island with a fake Roman temple. It had too much relief for any self-respecting French landscaper. It was an unlikely—and magical—oddity in the City of Light.

“And this is my favorite spot,” Adrien said as they reached a small plateau with a vista of the temple extravaganza and, in the distance, Paris.

“Great view,” she said. “And so quiet. I guess Parisians are too lazy to climb all the way up here.”

He pulled her to him. “Lucky me.”

He cupped her nape and kissed her gently, tentative in his touch. His fingers went into in her hair, massaging, combing through the silky strands. She groaned into his mouth and melted into him. Her breasts ached for his touch, their taut peaks thrusting against her clothes. As if sensing her plight, he cupped one breast. She let out a long, throaty sigh. Ooh, this was so good . . .

He placed his thumb against the tip of her breast and rubbed it through the thin layers of her lingerie and blouse. She gasped as a pleasure shock jolted through her nerves. Her nipples had always been sensitive, but now they were on speed dial to her core. She was on fire, spurred by the exquisitely sweet torture his thumb inflicted while he kissed her, by the way his other hand—now flattened against her lower back—pressed her to him, and by her awareness of his arousal that left no doubt as to how much he desired her. Sweet Lord, she would have said yes to anything he fancied doing in that moment.

A moan escaped her lips. He tightened his grip on her waist. His mouth descended on the side of her neck and covered it with hot kisses, branding her skin. She arched her neck and opened her eyes to the immense blueness of the sky. When her gaze fell on the tips of the trees, she remembered they were in a public park, even if it was a secluded corner of it. She should be ashamed of herself—a nursery school teacher making out in the park like some hapless teenage girl. What if someone saw them? What if someone recognized them?

She placed a hand on his chest and pulled back a little. “This is crazy. We must stop.”

“Must we? Are you uncomfortable? Look around—there’s no one else here,” he said in a raspy voice.

When he moved his hand from her breast to her hip, she felt bereft. They stood like that for a few moments, gazing into each other’s eyes. In the silence of the park she could hear the sparrows, his ragged breathing, and her own pulse. She could feel the thumping beat of his heart against her hand. But what made her mouth dry and her knees wobbly was the stark want in his darkened eyes. Knowing she held the power to unleash the restrained fierceness of it—right now, right here, if she wanted to—was like having a bag of her favorite candy in her pocket when she was a kid. The pinnacle of sweetness.

Adrien closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. This was becoming unbearable. He wanted to kiss her until she’d abandoned herself and then peel off her clothes, feast his eyes on her body, and taste her skin—every inch of it. But they were in a park. He had already gone too far. Had he shocked her? Did she think he was a manwhore unable to control his lust? Oh God, did she feel about him the way he’d felt about Louise a few weeks ago?

Release her now. Go explore the park with her, like a decent man would do on a first date.

Instead, his hands began to explore her back. He reveled in learning her curves and dips, in the silky feel of her blouse against his fingertips.

She sighed and leaned into him ever so slightly.

“Natalie,” he said, his voice low with emotion.

He repeated her name again and again, caressing her with his voice, making love to her with it. He made unspoken promises.

With superhuman effort, he let go of her and walked over to the large chestnut tree. He pulled off the sweater he’d had over of his T-shirt and spread it on the ground.

Then he sat on it with his back against the tree trunk and patted the space between his open knees. “Come here.”

Natalie couldn’t stop staring at his V-shaped torso as she walked toward him. He wrapped his arms around her as soon as she nestled her back against his chest.

They were strong and graceful, his arms.

“Adrien,” she said, tilting her head to look into his eyes. “Why in heaven have you been hiding that hunky body under those huge sweaters?”

“What’s wrong with my sweaters?” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Wait—did you just call me hunky?”

“Who, me? I’d never.”

“I’m sure I heard you say ‘hunky’.”

She turned her head away from him and stroked the lean muscles on his arms. “I said ‘hanky’. As in handkerchief.”

“Ah. I should make an appointment with the ear doctor.”

“Uh-huh.”

He pushed her hair to one side and nuzzled her neck. “There’s something you should know about me. I travel frequently for tournaments. Sometimes as often as every month. Sometimes more.”

She tensed. What was he trying to tell her? That his life was all about chess? That he needed his space?

She forced herself to shrug. “Take it easy. I don’t expect us to be serious just because I left Fred.”

There, now he wouldn’t think her needy.

“Oh, I was hoping . . .I was hoping we’d be serious,” he said, disappointment palpable in his voice.

Crap. She screwed up her face, cursing her stupidity. This was Adrien, not Fred. He didn’t speak in codes, didn’t expect her to read between the lines and decipher his messages. He was real and trusted her to be real. To be herself. Provided she could still remember how to do it.

She shifted her position and sat on her heels, facing him. “Forget what I just said. I didn’t mean it.”

“What was it you meant then?” He gave her a searching look.

She closed her eyes and went for it. “I’d like our relationship to be serious.”

He was silent.

She opened her eyes and shook her head in dismay. “This is so against every rule in the dating manual. Too much. Too soon. Can you handle it?”

A crooked smile spread on his face. “Is there more?”

“You want more? I couldn’t possibly. I’m not used to this level of frankness . . .” She expelled a long breath. “What the hell. Yeah, there’s more. Corny as it may sound, I hope you’re the one. Because I really like you.”

“I like you, too. Very much.” He paused. “Can you handle more?”

“Try me.”

“I lied. I don’t like you. I’m crazy about you.”

She cupped his cheek. “I doubt you’ve even heard of the dating manual.”

“Brace yourself, ma chérie. It gets worse.” His expression grew serious. “I want to make your dreams come true. And I sure as hell hope I am the one for you.”

She grinned, awash in happiness.

He added with infinite tenderness, “Because I know you’re the one for me.”