Making Over Maris

by Sabrina York

  She stopped. “Aren’t we supposed to take that one?” She pointed to the private lift for the restaurant.

  “I thought we could visit ze observation deck first,” he explained, “as we are, how you say, early?”

  Sara shrugged. It would be nice to take in the view. If for no other reason than to say she had. So they climbed onto the elevator packed with tourists and rode to the third level.

  And though she was sad and distracted and certain she wouldn’t enjoy herself in the slightest, Sara loved it. The observation deck was windy and crowded but the view of the city stole her breath. She and Philippe hunted for and found her hotel and then he pointed out other spots of note.

  When he left to check on their reservations, she found a quiet spot and gazed out at the city brilliant with lights, the wind snapping her hair around her face, and allowed herself the pleasure of this moment.

  She thought of Jack.

  Imagined he was here.

  Imagined he’d had the courage to overcome his fears and get on a plane and join her on this once-in-a-lifetime trip.

  She understood why he hadn’t come.

  He’d been in a plane crash.

  He’d nearly died.

  That would make anyone think twice about hopping on a metal tube filled with highly explosive jet fuel. Still—

  “Sara.”

  Funny. She thought she heard his voice dancing on the breeze. She closed her eyes, pretending he was by her side. Holding her, maybe.

  “Sara.” Someone touched her sleeve. She turned around, fully expecting it to be Philippe.

  It wasn’t.

  Her heart flipped. Flopped. Did a little dance.

  Tears rushed to her eyes.

  Because it was Jack.

  She reached out, touched him just to be sure. He seemed solid enough. And inexpressibly handsome in a smart suit. With a denuded rosebud in the lapel.

  “You came.” A whisper. A prayer. A desperate hope she wasn’t hallucinating.

  “I did.” He smiled, a proud, sweet smile that sent zings of joy straight to her soul.

  “Oh Jack!” It would probably have been inexpressibly rude to crush the rosebud in his lapel, if it had any petals. Sara didn’t care. She launched herself into his arms. “You came.”

  “I’m here, Sara.”

  “How…? What…? When…?”

  “Jenny.”

  Okay. Not what she was expecting to hear. She stiffened.

  He laughed. “Jenny gave me something to take. It calmed me down enough to get on the plane.”

  “She drugged you?”

  “Only because I asked.” And at Sara’s frown, “She assured me it’s legal. Whatever it was.”

  Her frown darkened. “You didn’t take me to the airport.”

  “God. I’m sorry about that, Sara. Kat ripped me a new one on Wednesday.”

  “Did you…forget?” God. Please don’t say you forgot.

  He paled. “Didn’t you get my message?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t call me.”

  “I did. To explain.”

  “I didn’t get a call from you on my phone. I checked.” Oh, she’d checked. And checked.

  “I called you from Kenny’s phone. There was an emergency. His brother OD’d and I left the office so fast I forgot my phone.”

  “Oh no. Is he…okay?”

  “Calvin?” Jack shrugged. “He survived. This time. When he gets out of the hospital, I have him booked in a good rehab.”

  “Isn’t that expensive?”

  His jaw firmed. “Doesn’t matter. He made it. Kenny’s a mess though.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you didn’t get my message. I couldn’t remember your number so—”

  “You can’t remember my number?” Hell. She knew his by heart.

  He kissed away her annoyance. “Sara. Darling. I have you on speed dial. But without my cell phone, I’m lost. I must have called fifteen wrong numbers before I finally got your voice mail. All with Kenny squawking in my ear about his minutes.”

  “Poor Kenny.”

  “Yeah. I reimbursed him. Anyway. As soon as Calvin was stable, I hopped on a plane—”

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  His eyes glowed at that. “Anyway. Here I am.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” Sara blew out a laugh. “I can’t believe you got on that plane.”

  He smiled, kissed her. “Neither can I. But I had to. I couldn’t miss this, Sara.” He blinked. “I mean, if you don’t mind having dinner with me instead of Philippe?”

  She boggled. “Are you kidding me? He’s nice enough as gigolos go but he’s no Jack Maris.”

  He stared at her for a minute and then kissed her. A brief brush. “God, I lo—I mean. Thanks. Shall we go down for dinner?” He put out an arm.

  “Yes. We shall.”

  She smiled, grinned, laughed. Because everything was better.

  Jack was here.

  After a truly sumptuous meal, they walked back to the hotel, along the Seine in the moonlight with all the other romantic couples, gazing out at the inky water, at the reflected lights dancing off that dark surface.

  Dinner had been wonderful, from the soup starter to the frothy, impossibly delicious dessert. But Sara suspected it only tasted as good as it did because they were together.

  She hugged his arm tighter. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “I am too.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Was it very difficult? Getting on that plane?” He didn’t answer. She glanced up into his face. “Was it?”

  “I’ll probably always hate flying.”

  “What will you do on the way home?”

  He winced. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I can distract you…” She waggled her brows.

  Jack chuckled. “I’ll just bet you could. But it’s an eleven-hour flight.”

  “I’ll have to get creative.”

  “You’re always creative.”

  “I do try.” She sighed, but it was a happy sigh. “I’m so glad you hired me, Jack.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you agreed. I think we’re…good together.” They walked a few more steps before he spoke again. “Do you?”

  “Hmm? Do I what?”

  “Do you think we’re good together?”

  It was a simple question. One she could answer with yes or no. But something in his eyes convinced her otherwise.

  It wasn’t a simple off-the-cuff query.

  It was something much more significant.

  She stopped and took his hands in hers. Gazed up at him, at his handsome moon-kissed face. “Yes, Jack. We’re very good together. I never did thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For tutoring me in school. For helping me land my job. For being my friend. For all of it.”

  “It was my pleasure.” His lips were warm on hers, sweet. A message hovered in that gentle buss, if only she could figure it out. “Did you have a good birthday?”

  “The best. I’m so glad you’re here. And that we have three more days to spend together.”

  “Me too. I’ve never been to Paris before.”

  “You’ve never been anywhere before.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe you did it. You got on that plane and flew here.”

  “I did it for you, Sara.”

  “Who knows? I mean, other than Jenny?” It rankled that Jenny knew about them, that he’d asked for her help, but Sara supposed she could forgive them both for that…

  “Everyone.”

  Sara froze. “Everyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Including Adam and…Tristan?”

  “Of course.”

  “They know about us?”

  “Everything.”

  Her belly lurched. “Everything?”

  He chuckled. “Not everything. But yes, they know about us.”

  “I can’t believ
e you told everyone.” A niggle of panic flared in her gut. “What did Tristan say?” Would she have a job when they got back?

  “Good luck.”

  “What?” Why would Jack need good luck?

  He chuckled at the look on her face.

  Oh. Yeah. The eleven-hour flight…

  “You realize now that he knows you can fly, he’ll expect you to go to Sydney.”

  “No, he won’t. Shannon is too excited about that trip.”

  “But still, this will change everything for you.” Now Jack would have to go on business trips or they’d never let him live it down.

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Sara didn’t understand what he meant but didn’t ask. Something was different about Jack tonight. She couldn’t put her finger on it. And then she realized…he was nervous. Although why he would be nervous—he was on solid ground, after all—she couldn’t say.

  He slowed his steps as they approached a bridge. “Do you know where we are?”

  She shook her head.

  “Pont Marie. The lover’s bridge.”

  “The lover’s bridge?” She snuggled closer. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “They say if you kiss someone under this bridge while making a wish, the wish will come true.”

  “Did you read about that on the internet?”

  “I did.”

  “Well then it must be true.”

  “Don’t snort. It’s not ladylike.”

  Sara peered over the edge. “I’m not going under the bridge.”

  “I’m sure it will work from here.”

  “Are you?”

  He nodded. His innocent expression was adorable.

  “Okay. Fine. Shall we try it out? Shall we kiss and make a wish?”

  “That was the plan.”

  Sara laughed. “Trust you to have a plan.”

  “I do like to come prepared.”

  “I noticed.”

  He tapped her nose with a finger. “Okay. Close your eyes and make a wish.”

  “Wait—let me think of a good one.” She glanced at him. “Don’t you need to think of a good wish?”

  “No. I already have my wish.”

  “Oh. What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you. Come on, Sara. Close your eyes.”

  She did. And the wish came to her as though her heart were speaking loud and clear. Singing, perhaps.

  She wanted this to last forever. She wanted her and Jack to be forever.

  “Okay. Got it.”

  He didn’t hesitate. His lips came over hers, warm and sweet, his breath fragrant. She loved his taste.

  “Think of your wish,” he said, though his lips were melded to hers.

  Still, she understood him. And she thought of her wish. Let it fill her heart. Refused to let the niggling doubts break through.

  There would be time for doubts later.

  This moment was for them. For Sara and Jack. And hope.

  When he stepped away, she wanted to pull him back. Wanted to keep kissing him on Pont Marie forever and make the wish come true just like that.

  He cupped her cheek and stroked her. “Sara…” His voice broke. “You are so beautiful. I don’t know how I ever… I don’t know what I ever did… I’m sure I don’t deserve…”

  “Jack.” She put a finger on his lips. “What are you trying to say? Remember the article you read on the internet? About clear communication? Spit it out.”

  He nodded. She loved the tumble of his curls. Loved that they were growing back. Loved that they were well-maintained. Loved that—

  Aw, hell. She loved him.

  “I know Todd came to see you at the office.”

  Her heart wrenched but not because he knew about Todd’s visit. Because of the pain etched on his features. “Forget about Todd.”

  “He wants you back.”

  “It’s good for the soul to want something you can’t have.”

  Jack stilled. “He can’t have you?”

  “No. He can’t.” No way in hell. “I’m seeing someone else. Didn’t you hear? Apparently everyone else at the office knows.”

  He smiled but it was a tentative offering. “Are you sure about Todd?”

  “Never been more certain.” She cupped his cheek and stroked his sexy Van Dyke.

  His tongue peeped out. “Sara…I need to ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  In typical Jack-like fashion, he fished around in his pockets and produced a piece of paper.

  She frowned. “What is that?”

  “Nothing.”

  She peeked over so she could see it. It was— No way. “Is that another flowchart?”

  He colored from his neck up. “Maybe.”

  “Let me see that.” She snatched it from his hand and began to read. The title made her tremble. Because it said…

  PROPOSING TO SARA.

  She glanced up at him, her mouth agape. And then at his nod, she continued to read.

  STEP ONE: ASSESS THE SITUATION.

  DOES SHE SEEM CRANKY?

  She barked a laugh. “Seriously, Jack? Cranky?”

  “It is a critical variable…”

  IF YES: CHARM HER FROM HER BAD MOOD.

  IF NO: PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

  STEP TWO: GET ON ONE KNEE.

  A movement captured her attention and she looked up—just as he dropped down before her. Her trembling increased apace.

  STEP THREE: PRODUCE THE RING.

  This took a minute because he had to check several pockets, but it was worth the wait because the ring was an exquisite marquise cut nested in a blue-velvet box. It was the ring of which she’d always dreamed. Tears pricked her lashes.

  “Oh Jack.”

  “Keep reading.”

  She swiped at her cheeks and directed her attention back to the paper. She couldn’t not.

  STEP FOUR: ADMIT THE TRUTH.

  Her heart stalled. Her breath clogged. “The truth? What truth?”

  His cheeks, which were already flushed, pinkened even more.

  “What truth?”

  He swallowed heavily. “The truth…about this thing.”

  “Which thing?”

  “This bargain we made.”

  “Okay.” Her pulse stuttered. Did she want to know? “Wh-what’s the truth?”

  “I kind of lied to you.”

  Oh. God. Panic raced. Heat washed through her. “You did?”

  “Yes. I did. I didn’t really hire you to make me attractive to women, Sara.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t?”

  “No.” His chin firmed. “I hired you to make me attractive to…you. You’re the only woman I’m interested in attracting.” Something warm and sweet washed over his features. It looked like devotion.

  Elation swept through her, making her tremble. “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  She nearly went down on her knees at his side but he forestalled her.

  “Keep reading, Sara. Don’t leave me hanging here.”

  STEP FIVE: TELL HER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE HER.

  “Jack.”

  “Where are you at?”

  “Tell her how much…” She couldn’t finish. The words escaped her. But he had them. He had the words.

  “I love you, Sara. I always have.” It shone in his eyes.

  Danced in her heart. Warmed her soul.

  “Oh Jack.”

  “From that day Billy Brandt backed me into the corner by the lockers and tried to give me a wedgie and you made him leave me alone. Do you remember that?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t. But Billy had always been a dick. And a bully. She could imagine that happening all too clearly. She sent a prayer of thanks to her younger self for having a shred of humanity.

  “Keep reading.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  STEP SIX: TELL HER HOW MUCH YOU NEED HER.

  “You need me?”

  “Like the air I breathe.”

  STEP SEVEN: AS
K HER TO SHARE YOUR LIFE.

  “Will you be my wife? Will you take me to be your husband? Your one? Your only?”

  Emotion—excitement, elation, relief, fear—rocked her.

  Her one and only…

  And then she remembered.

  “What about Philippe?”

  He laughed. “Forget about Philippe. I paid him off. I’ll be your gigolo from now on.”

  “Will you?” The tears were back. They ran unchecked down her cheeks. “Will you do what I say?”

  “Always.”

  “Always?” It was difficult not to snort. Unladylike as it was.

  “Almost always. Come on, Sara. Throw me a bone here. It’s starting to rain. Will you be my woman? Forsaking all others. Especially Todd—”

  “Todd who?”

  “Until death us do part?”

  Happiness tripped through her. Still, she tapped her lip with a finger. “Will you get rid of the flowcharts?”

  “Probably not.”

  She stroked his hair. “I can live with that.”

  “So what do you say, Sara. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, Jack. I will.”

  He was up on his feet and twirling her around before the words were completely out. And then he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, even though it was starting to pour. She didn’t even care.

  When he finally surfaced, he smiled at her. “Thank you, Sara. Thank you for saying yes.”

  “Oh Jack. I do love you.”

  “I can’t tell you how much that means.”

  “You don’t have to.” Nah. She felt it. All the way to her soul.

  They headed back to the hotel, reveling in the pattering rain, reveling in each other. They were in Paris. They were in love. And it was raining.

  How romantic.

  He kissed her forehead. “I guess the bridge thing works. My wish came true already.”

  She gazed up at him, absolute adoration etched on her heart. “Mine too.”

  “Did you like my flowchart?”

  Her lips quirked. “Yes, Jack. This one I really liked.”

  “Good.” He kissed her, long and hard. “I’ll have it laminated.”

  About Sabrina York