Forget Paris: Sweet and clean Christian romance in Paris and London (Love In Store Book 4)

by Autumn Macarthur

Clearly, she’d done it to be practical, but the effect was surprisingly captivating, drawing his attention to the strong determined line of her jaw, and her pale vulnerable neck.

  “Statistics show arranged marriages work better, though they might be a hard sell these days. People in our society want to feel in love, and they fall in love too easy. I interviewed one couple fastening a lock who met last night. And today, they’re declaring lasting love? I don’t see it.”

  “That does seem fast.” Okay, he had to concede that point. “But it might still last.”

  Her lip curled. “Sure. And there’s a bunch of pigs flying past the Eiffel Tower, too.” Exhaling an exasperated breath, she waved a hand at him. “Think about it. This is Paris. On Valentine’s Day. We’re near enough in age. You’re a good looking guy and you seem sincere. Circumstances alone predict that if we spend the rest of the day together, I would imagine myself in love with you by the time we parted tonight. But it wouldn’t mean anything.”

  Smiling, he raised his eyebrows as he ran a hand over his unshaven chin. He couldn’t imagine there was too much appealing about him.

  “For some women, perhaps. But I think you’re more intelligent than that.”

  “I would hope so,” she said. “But not necessarily. A lot of people might believe the feelings were real and make impulsive decisions based on them. There are processes that could make even a smart guy like you feel he was falling in love with an ordinary girl like me, at least temporarily. You’ve studied some psychology, so you must have heard of Closeness Generating Procedures, right?”

  He nodded. He knew the research she meant. He’d even quoted from the original researchers’ papers, in some of his own work.

  “Then you know the procedure is designed to produce accelerated closeness and a feeling of intimacy. He didn't actually do it to make people feel all warm and fuzzy about each other, but to let them study the feelings of love and closeness under lab conditions without messy things like real relationships getting in the way.”

  She was so sweetly serious. All he could do was nod again.

  Her eyes gleamed and she smiled a smug satisfied smile, as if she knew she’d found the point that would win the debate. “So when feelings of romantic love can be produced experimentally, between two strangers put together in a lab for an hour or so, doesn’t that prove those feelings are illusions?”

  No hint of shyness or hesitation about her now, as she tried to convince him her views were right. It made him want to push her, just to see how far she’d go to prove her point. Gabe found he was enjoying himself.

  “I disagree. Though the researchers’ data suggested they made people feel they’d developed closeness and intimacy, that doesn’t mean anything for real world interactions between people. I doubt very much that answering a list of questions and looking into each other’s eyes would fool us into believing we’d found the real thing.”

  “Have you ever done the procedure?” she demanded.

  He shook his head.

  “Me neither.” Her lips twisted. “I avoided that part of my course. I didn’t want to risk thinking I was in love with some random guy the professor matched me up with. Or worse, him thinking he was in love with me.” She smiled. “Some of the guys in that class were kind of creepy.”

  He laughed out loud. “Good reason. But I disagree with your theory. I’m totally sure, if we did the procedure today, neither of us would mistake the feelings it produced for falling in love.”

  She lifted her chin, and straightened her spine. The way she repositioned her feet could almost be called a stomp. “If you’re so sure, let’s try it. A quick search on my phone will find the questions. If you feel anything for me after we do the experiment, that proves I’m right. It will show you just how unreliable those feelings are.”

  Gabe hesitated only for a moment. No harm could come from doing the procedure. It was tested hundreds of times in labs across the world.

  He’d treat it like a game.

  It seemed God had given him an opportunity to forget his loss for a while, and he had no intention of refusing it. He wanted to get to know this mysterious girl better.

  There was just one catch in both their theories.

  He already felt something for her, and they hadn’t even started.

  Chapter 2

  Zoe stared up at the man in front of her as she waited for his answer, unable to believe what she’d just suggested.

  Two chance met strangers doing a Closeness Generating Procedure? The only sensible answer he could give was ‘No’.

  Instead, he nodded. “It’s a crazy idea. But I know it won’t work, so why not?” A sweet smile lightened his face, chasing away any remnants of sadness.

  Before she could argue, he ran a hand through his thick chestnut hair and his smile twisted into doubt. “Though I don’t know this is wise. Not because I think we’ll fall in love. I don’t. More practical reasons. You have your research to do. And I’m a complete stranger, you know nothing about me. I should be way more of a worry for you than those creepy guys in your class were.”

  Paradoxically, him saying exactly what she’d been thinking made her want to do it. “You being a stranger isn’t such a worry. We’ll stay in public places, and I won’t do anything to put myself at risk,” she said.

  She studied him. If she was looking to fall in love, he was just the type she’d choose. Good-looking, but in a quiet unobtrusive way, rather than film-star handsome. Intelligent, with gleams of humour. He seemed kind and thoughtful. And he believed in God.

  Thankfully, falling in love was the last thing she wanted.

  If they did the procedure, she wouldn’t let herself be fooled by whatever she felt.

  But he might, even doing the procedure with her.

  They couldn’t do it. As a good researcher, she needed to treat him as she would any other subject, and think about his safety. Challenging a recently bereaved man to do a powerful procedure that might leave him thinking he was in love with her would be insanely unethical.

  She had to refuse, for his sake.

  Shame. She liked him more than she’d liked any guy she’d met in a long time. Doing the procedure with him could have been interesting.

  That wasn’t a scientifically or ethically valid enough reason.

  She pushed her lips into a smile. “Okay. You’re right. Doing the procedure would be crazy. I get carried away sometimes with needing to prove I’m right. At least I’m done now with this phase of the research. I’ve collected contact details for over thirty couples, willing to answer the full questionnaire I’ll email them.”

  “With a decent response rate, that’s more than enough for validity in qualitative research.” He nodded. “Well done.”

  She tensed, and looked at him sharply. The mistrust she’d learned the hard way kicked in. What if his motivation in keeping her talking was to steal her work? This could be Adrian, all over again. She’d be a fool to tell him anything.

  Bitter regret burned her mouth. Of course, a guy like this wouldn’t be interested in her for herself, any more than Adrian, or Brad, for all their pretty words, had been.

  But his open face and the way he talked seemed honest. So unlike Adrian’s smooth charm, which should have rung alarm bells way sooner than it had.

  This man wouldn’t steal.

  The worst he’d do was talk about her research before she was ready. New ideas became unpublishable or open to plagiarism once everyone had seen them. The world of academic social psychology was so small. Still, he’d said he was a teacher. Anyone who’d taken Research 101 knew the difference between qualitative and quantitative. The risk was minimal.

  “I hope so,” she said, forcing her tense muscles to relax. “But let’s not talk about my research. I’m heading to a café for a cup of coffee. I’ve been standing on this bridge so many hours now, I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

  She pointed to a little café she'd noticed earlier, barely visible down a side street. A tiny pla
ce with quirky bright blue paintwork, and a cluster of small metal tables and chairs on the pavement.

  He glanced where she pointed. “Very Parisian.”

  “Isn’t it. But I’ll give sitting outside a miss. I need to be inside and warm.” She peeked at him. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  He grinned, endearing and boyish. “I guess if we introduce ourselves, we're not strangers anymore.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an American passport. The cover was crisp as if it had never been used. “Here’s my ID. If you’re not sure about me, you could take a photo of it with your phone and email it to someone.”

  Without opening it, she pushed the passport back into his hand. “Are you kidding?” She nearly snorted. “That would be the fastest way to get the police or my entire family here. We can sit in a cafe without needing ID. Let’s stay strangers. First names only. I’m Zoe.”

  He shrugged and tucked his passport back in his coat, as a sweet smile warmed his face. “Hi Zoe. I’m Gabe. Nice to meet you.”

  It was disconcerting and unsettling to have this warm glow in her tummy, the little flutter of her heartbeat, the heat in her cheeks. She didn't want to feel it, any of it.

  Yet, she did feel it. She hadn't been this drawn to a guy in a long time.

  And she felt more than mere attraction for him. She felt empathy. She didn’t want to even begin to imagine how bad losing Mom and Dad would feel. He was a long way from home, and alone.

  Given how she already felt for him, it was a good thing they weren’t doing the procedure. If they did, she could easily end the day thinking she was falling in love. Way to prove her point.

  He held out a hand for her to shake, and she took it.

  His warm firm grip sent sensation trembling through her, almost like an energy surge. She thanked God that once today was over she wouldn't see him again. Letting anything more happen, like doing the procedure or exchanging contact details wouldn’t be sensible.

  Not when he made her feel like this, like the girly girl Mom and her prettier twin sister Tiff wanted her to be. That wasn’t her. Safer and easier to stay a tomboy instead, and focus on being the brainy daughter. That was a game she had some chance of winning.

  She shook his hand quick and fast, then dropped it like it was a hot potato. She needed to get a grip on her emotions, and act like nothing had happened.

  Nothing had happened. They’d only shaken hands, for crying out loud.

  His intent gaze suggested he’d guessed something was wrong. Or maybe he’d felt it too, whatever that sensation was. Static build up, something like that? There had to be a sensible explanation.

  Thankfully, he didn’t ask. “Let’s go have that coffee. Your hands are freezing.”

  She rubbed her fingers together and stuffed them in her pocket.

  They started across the bridge, weaving through more wedding photo shoots, with brides whose ballooning skirts threatened to make them take off like Mary Poppins.

  “How long are you in Paris?” she asked.

  Polite small talk should be safe.

  No more talk of love, or the procedure. No more physical contact.

  “I’m only here for the weekend, I flew in last night, and I fly out again on Sunday. I'm still jetlagged.” His smile faltered. “I’m only here because Mom asked me to come. One last thing I could do for her. Though when I get back home again, I still have the house to sort out.”

  She turned to him. “I’m so sorry, Gabe.”

  His lips twisted. “It’s still pretty raw, but I’m okay, considering. It will get better in time.” The smile he tried didn’t quite reach the sadness in his eyes, though it was a good attempt. “Making sure I don’t fall in love with you to prove your theory will be a convenient distraction.”

  “Most men don’t have to try too hard not to fall in love with me.” She didn’t quite manage to keep the sharp edge out of her voice.

  “Some jerk let you down?” he queried, his eyes far too perceptive. “Now your theories on love make sense. Who was he?”

  She tensed, and stopped walking, just as they stepped off the bridge and on to the cobbled street. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about Brad. The breakup had been the worst pain she’d ever felt. She never wanted to feel that kind of loss again, and she wanted to save other girls from feeling it.

  Her smile felt way too obviously fake and forced. “That might be very close to one of the questions in the procedure. I thought we’d agreed we weren’t doing it.”

  He raised his eyebrows in a way that should be cliché, but on him was cute. “I thought we’d agreed we were doing it. You challenged me, I said yes.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped something in, and grinned. “The exact question in the procedure is ‘What have been your best and worst relationship experiences, and how did they affect your beliefs about love?’ If all the questions are like that, I can see answering all thirty-six will take some time.”

  She shook her head. “Forget the procedure. I shouldn’t have suggested it.” But she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Of course, if you want to concede that my theory is correct, I won’t complain. I love being right. A little too much, according to my family.”

  Gabe almost smirked in reply. “It’s a good thing I can handle being wrong. But I never take on a challenge unless I know I can win. You can’t wriggle out of it that easily. I think you’re scared you’ll discover you’re the one who’s wrong.”

  “I’m not scared. That’s not why I’m backing out.” She raised her chin. “I know I’m right. But you’re grieving, and it’s not appropriate. Creating false feelings of closeness for someone you’ll never see again isn’t wise. I don’t want to leave you hurting more than you already are.”

  His smile was almost unbearably poignant. “It’s so sweet of you to think that, Zoe. But surely I should be the one to decide whether I can handle the procedure. Questions like that could be cathartic, part of a healing process for me. Maybe God brought us together today for a reason.”

  He held out a hand to her, and she knew he meant her to hold it, not shake it, this time. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and let her hand slip into Gabe’s. It seemed to fit there like it belonged.

  The procedure didn’t require any physical contact.

  Holding his hand made no sense at all.

  But surely holding hands wouldn’t do anyone any harm.

  His clasp tightened. “Seeing I know I’m right, and I don’t believe either of us will have any illusions we’re falling in love because of the procedure, how can there be any danger?”

  There was danger all right. Perhaps her feelings were just as much at risk from the challenge as his.

  Still, Gabe seemed to want to do it, despite his potential vulnerability. He even seemed to think it might help him.

  Maybe she should do it, despite the risks.

  For Gabe’s sake, and for her research.

  Warmth and an unexpected sense of rightness rushed through her.

  Experiencing romance in a purely experimental way could help her understand the lure it held. She wouldn’t get caught up in the feelings, because she’d know they were fake. She could examine them, like an entomologist studying a butterfly then letting it go.

  That way she’d be more convincing when she wrote her book, to warn about the dangers of falling in love.

  Romance might be addictive, but it wasn’t like those drug posters on the subway walls, one dose and she’d be hooked. She could keep her distance, stay the researcher, feel the feelings without letting herself believe they were real.

  Today, for one day of her life, she’d play at the game of romance.

  For the sake of her work, and to help a grieving man.

  Not because she wanted to fall in love.

  Definitely not.

  Chapter 3

  Gabe hadn’t expected Zoe would take his hand, but she did.

  Her hand felt right in his, fitting there perfectly. As her chilled skin tha
wed in his clasp, warmth spread through him, too. An unexpected sensation, like a blessing.

  He couldn’t recall ever feeling quite this sense of belonging. Their steps seemed to sync as they walked off the bridge and toward the café she’d spotted.

  That bit about it being God’s will for them to meet wasn’t just corny Christian pick-up line #37. He believed it. Taking up her challenge could be exactly what he most needed.

  Now was as good a time to start as any.

  “So if we’re doing the procedure, you need to answer my. Best and worst relationship experiences and how they affected you. In other words, who was the jerk?” He smiled to soften the question.

  Zoe’s hand twitched in his and her eyes widened. This level of self-disclosure probably didn’t come easy to her. Maybe he should go first, ease them into it.

  “You first. What about you?” she asked, almost as if she’d read his mind.

  “Okay then.” He blew out a long breath and smiled. “Nothing to hide. I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love. So my best relationship experience would be seeing Mom and Dad’s marriage. They really were amazing together, both working to keep the romance alive. I guess that shaped my expectations about what love could be.”

  Zoe nodded, and surprised him with a personal admission. “My Mom and Dad are like that. Their marriage is almost too wonderful. I can’t see how I could ever measure up to it. Mom is such a perfect example of a wife.”

  She sighed and her hand quivered a little in his. Sounded like that was a sore spot. Then she kept going. “So, what’s your worst?”

  Grief clenched its claws into his chest, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. His answer was something too personal to share with anyone back home, even Pastor Dan. Zoe, a stranger, was safer to tell. “Probably seeing how Mom gave up and didn’t try to fight the cancer anymore after Dad died. It was as if some light went out of her. I’m not sure I want to love someone that much, that I’d literally die without them.”

  Her grip on his hand tightened, and he felt the sympathy flowing from her without her speaking a word. He looked out to the river as he struggled to control his emotion.