“A week ago,” she answered. “He called me from this really chichi new designer’s studio and asked me for your size. Looks like I got it right,” she said, appraising the dress with obvious envy. She touched the scar on my arm and disappeared into her room, coming back with a cobweb-thin shrug. “That hides it,” she said, nodding with approval. “Holy cow, this thing is gorgeous.” She ran her fingers down the silk as we gazed at my reflection in the mirror.
“Wow, with you looking like that, I can’t believe you’re the same girl who was doing a perfectly convincing Uma Thurman–Kill Bill imitation not even two weeks ago,” she said. I hugged her as we left the room.
Vincent was waiting for me in the entranceway. The fire in his eyes when he saw me revealed exactly how I looked to him.
“Oh, darling, aren’t you stunning!” exclaimed Mamie, beaming as she handed me a long black hooded coat. “You’ll need this to keep warm. It’s always been too big for me but should fit you perfectly,” she murmured.
“You’re beautiful, just like your mom was,” whispered Papy emotionally, kissing my cheeks and telling us to have a good time. Georgia waved us off, and closing the door, we walked down the staircase.
Once we stepped outside into the nippy air, I was happy for Mamie’s coat, which was so well insulated that I was able to leave it open, showing off the dress. Halfway down the block, Vincent stopped, turned toward me, and whispered, “Kate, I feel so”—he paused, seeming lost for words—“so honored to be with you. So lucky. Thank you.”
“What?” I replied incredulously. He leaned in to kiss me, and I lifted my mouth to meet his.
As our lips met, my body molded itself to his. I felt his heartbeat next to my own, and a luscious heat rose inside me as I responded to his kiss. Vincent held my face gently as his lips pressed more insistently against my own. The warmth inside me transformed into a flow of lava.
Finally breaking our connection, he gathered me into his arms. “More. Later,” he promised. “When we’re not standing in the middle of a city street.” He looked at me as if I were his own personal miracle and, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulled me tight as we walked toward the river.
Once there, we headed down the long flight of stairs to the quay. I laughed when I spotted a familiar figure standing a few yards away. “What are you doing here, Ambrose, in the middle of my birthday date?”
“Just part of the plan, Katie-Lou. Just part of the plan,” he said as he bent down to kiss my cheeks. “Let’s see you, now.” He stepped back and gave a low whistle as I let the coat fall halfway down my arms to show off the dress.
“Vin, you are one lucky man,” he said, giving Vincent a playful but painful-looking punch on the shoulder. Vincent rubbed the spot, laughing, and said, “Thanks. Just what I need, bodily injury while I’m trying to impress my girlfriend.”
“Oh, you’re going to be impressed.” Ambrose smiled. “You’d better be!” He motioned to the water with one hand. “Look at what I’ve been babysitting for you for the last hour and a half.”
A small rowboat, painted bright red, rocked gently in the waves of the river.
“What is this?” I gasped.
Vincent just smiled and said, “Normally I would say, ‘Ladies first,’ but in this case . . .” He climbed down the steep stone steps in the side of the quay and leaped nimbly into the boat. Ambrose helped me down halfway, and then Vincent grasped my hand and I stepped carefully into the rocking craft.
Ambrose gave us a salute before walking away. “Text me when you need me, man,” he called behind him, as he made his way up the steps to street level.
Vincent unlatched the oars and rowed west, toward the glimmering lights of the Musée d’Orsay. “Take a blanket,” he said, gesturing to a pile of throws and furry coverlets spread across the bottom of the boat. He had thought of everything.
“How—how did you get this boat? Is this even legal?” I stammered.
Vincent nodded. “As legal as any of Jean-Baptiste’s dealings. But to answer your question, yes, the boat is registered with the city of Paris. We won’t be getting pulled over by any river cops.” He laughed under his breath and then said, “So when do you want your presents?”
“Are you kidding, Vincent? I don’t need any more presents. This is the most incredible present anyone’s ever given me. A boat ride on the Seine? In an amazing silk ball gown? I’ve got to be dreaming!” I watched the lights shimmering in the Tuileries Gardens as we made our way past a monumental Greek-columned edifice looming over the left bank. Enormous statues of gods and goddesses flanked the building. I felt like tonight, with Vincent by my side, I belonged right up there in their midst.
“Open your presents,” he urged with a sexy smile. “They’re under the blankets.” He took his heavy coat off and continued rowing. I fished under the covers and retrieved two packages wrapped in silver paper.