Mills and Boon Christmas Joy Collection. Liz Fielding

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countdown started around them.

       Dix...neuf...huit...sept...

      ‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Tonight I’m just Alex.’

      The world around them exploded. Multi-coloured lights flickered up and down the outside of the Eiffel Tower. And Alex bent to kiss her.

      The fireworks around her were nothing to the ones exploding in her brain. She didn’t do this. She didn’t do any of this. But everything about it felt right.

      This was the kind of thing she could tell her grandkids about when she was an old woman. I once kissed a gorgeous Frenchman in Paris on New Year’s Eve.

      Because this was a fairytale. This wasn’t real life.

      Except Alex’s kiss was more than a fairytale. It was right up there with an award-winning movie.

      Tingles were going to places that tingles hadn’t been in a long time. One of his hands was resting gently on her lower back—the other was holding the back of her head. Except it wasn’t holding the back of her head...it was caressing the back of her head. His fingers tangled through her hair, gently moving with tantalising softness to the side of her face.

      If she could capture this moment and stuff it in a jar she would keep it for ever.

      His lips finally pulled free and she had to stop herself reaching out for more. When her eyes finally opened his blue gaze was on her, his fingers still on her cheek. She’d thought the moment would be gone. But it wasn’t.

      It was still exploding in the stars all around.

      He smiled at her. People were still shouting in the street beneath their feet, jumping up and down, and a million mobile phones were being held aloft to capture the last few seconds of the firework display.

      ‘Happy New Year,’ he whispered.

      ‘Happy New Year,’ she murmured. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. It would probably last for eternity.

      They stood for a little while as the firework display came to an end and the lights on the Eiffel Tower finally finished.

      He grabbed her hand in his. ‘What say we get away from all this? Do you want to find something to eat? To drink?’

      Her eyes flickered towards the far-off sign where she was to meet her friends. People were still tightly packed around it. There was no way she would be able to find her friends, then fight her way back through the crowd to Alex. The choice was simple.

      ‘Food sounds good.’

      The crowd around their feet had dispersed a little. The excitement of the countdown and the end of the fireworks display had sent people dispersing into the surrounding streets.

      He jumped down and reached his arms up to catch her around her waist as she sat on the top of the wall, and he placed her gently on the ground.

      Getting through the crowd was much easier with Alex in charge. No one seemed to argue with a broad-shouldered, six-foot-four man. He swept her along easily, pulling her behind until most of the crowd was behind them.

      For a few seconds she thought there was a strange group of men behind her—all in black, with earpieces. But seconds later they’d vanished and she forgot about them.

      By the time they reached Avenue George V the street was still busy but the crowd was gradually beginning to thin out. There were a number of open restaurants and cafés still serving customers. Alex hesitated a second outside of the door of the Four Seasons, then pulled her over to one of the other nearby restaurants with tables on the street.

      He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. She rubbed her hands together and smiled at his good manners. It had been a while since she’d met anyone who’d pull out a chair for her.

      ‘Are you cold? We can sit inside.’ He pointed at her fingers.

      ‘No, it’s fine.’ The restaurant looked claustrophobic, packed with people. It was strange, but outside seemed more private.

      A waiter appeared quickly and nodded to Alex.

      ‘What would you like, Ruby? Wine? coffee?’ He picked up a menu. ‘Food?’

      She smiled. ‘I’ll have a cocktail.’ Her eyes scanned the menu. ‘I’ll have a Royal Pink Circus—and the biggest piece of cake they’ve got.’

      Alex grinned and reached forward and grabbed the menu. ‘What is that? Hmm...vodka, champagne, raspberries and violet syrup. Interesting choice.’

      He turned and spoke in rapid French to the waiter.

      Under the warm light from the restaurant she got a clear view of the man she’d just kissed. Under dim lights he’d been gorgeous. Under street lights...wow.

      She couldn’t help but smile. No phone. No camera to record the moment. Typical. Her friends would never believe this. His blue eyes stood out even from across the table, complemented by the lightly tanned skin she hadn’t noticed before and the shadow along his chin.

      ‘So, what plans do you have?’

      She shrugged. ‘I don’t have my phone so I can’t contact my friends.’ She waved her arm. ‘But it’s fine. I know where I am from here. I can find my way back to my hotel.’

      She gestured towards the Four Seasons.

      ‘For a second I thought you were going to take me in there.’ She glanced down at her red wool coat, jeans and boots. ‘Somehow I don’t think I would have got inside.’

      He gave a little shake of his head. ‘Oh, you would have got inside.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘But I wasn’t talking about right now. How long are you in Paris?’

      Mysterious Alex was getting better by the second. He actually wanted to know if she was staying.

      ‘Just another two days. We go home on Friday. What about you?’

      ‘I don’t really have a fixed timetable. I can go home any time. Do you want to do some sightseeing for the next two days? See a little more of Paris before you go home?’

      Her heart gave a little leap. She was here with a group of friends, but Polly wouldn’t mind if she spent some time with a sexy French guy—in fact after this last year she’d probably encourage her.

      She nodded as the waiter appeared. ‘That sounds fun.’

      He set down the raspberry cocktail in a sugar-frosted glass. She took a tiny sip. The alcohol was stronger than she’d expected and the bubbles from the champagne flew up her nose. She choked and laughed.

      ‘Wow! This Royal Pink Circus is a doozy!’

      ‘What does that mean?’ asked Alex as he took a sip of his beer.

      ‘You know—extraordinary, spectacular. A doozy.’

      Next came the cake. If it could even be described as

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