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s’ anniversary. Which was partly true.
    Cat slipped her head under the bubbles. She would wash her hair with the expensive looking hotel shampoo and over dinner she would tell Christian all about the apartment.
     
    But Christian, it seemed had other plans. He kept up a steady round of chatter in the car on the way to the river, one hand resting across Cat’s shoulders, which were bare in the tiny black dress underneath the coat she had been wearing all day.
    “Honey,” he said, after they had set off on the charming little cruiser, and were seated in the middle of the cabin, another bottle of Moet in a silver bucket by their side. “There’s a reason for this.”
    “ Oh?” Cat said, her eyes not knowing whether to feast on the divine French architecture either side of her on the river’s edge, or whether she should be admiring the inside of their boat, which was decked out in beautiful pale wood and minimalist furniture.
    “ There’s a reason I came all the way to Paris.”
    “ There’s something I have to tell you too, Christian, you see …”
    But Christian was down on one knee. From out of nowhere, a photographer appeared.
    “Madame, Monsieur, as you have requested I will now take your photograph.”
    “ Too early, damn it.” Christian batted the poor man away.
    “ Christian?” Cat tried to send an apologetic smile to the cameraman.
    “ Cat,” he said. “I’m in love with you. Violently. I can’t wait any longer. I want to marry you.”
    Applause sounded from the far end of the cabin. The cameraman rushed back in. “Now, I take photo? Monsieur, Madame?”
    Another waiter appeared with two more glasses of champagne. “Is for the toast,” he insisted. He also placed a bunch of peachy colored roses right in the middle of their table, and a dish of caviar, with tiny water crackers on another plate.
    “ You stand up,” the photographer said, to Christian.
    “ Hang on,” Cat said.
    But Christian beamed at her. “Honey,” he said again. He shuffled about in his dinner jacket pocket.
    “ Ah! The ring!” The photographer squeaked. “We will be going past Eiffel Tower in thirty seconds. We take photo outside. Now.”
    “ Shall we?” Christian held out his arm.
    The air outside was freezing . Cat snuggled up next to Christian on the deck of the boat, with the sound of accordions wafting down the Seine from other cruise boats. The photographer moved them expertly from pose to pose. All she could do was gasp when Christian pulled out the most divine diamond ring in the world and all she could do was gasp and nod when he slipped it on the third finger of her left hand.
    “ Yes,” she laughed, as he slipped an arm around her back. “Yes! Of course! I thought you’d never ask!” She beamed for the photographer, and he smiled at them both.
    “ You make a stunning couple,” he said. “Is too perfect for words!”

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Cat didn’t wake until the sun was streaming through the elegant hotel windows and onto the enormous bed. She sat up slowly, gorgeous recollections of the night before still dancing around in her head. She stretched out her finger, looked at the ring. It was beautiful. She was in Paris. She was engaged.
    Christian was at the walnut writing desk. “Morning, honey,” he said, his fingers dancing across the keyboard of his laptop. “Slight problem. One of our businesses. They don’t get the program.”
    Cat walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Breakfast?” she murmured, nuzzling into his neck.
    “ You go get ready, honey.”
    Cat spent another wonderful half hour in the bathroom. She could get used to this, she knew. But, she must tell Christian about the apartment. The key was in her bag. She would take him up to the Pigalle district this morning.
    “What do you want to do today honey?” Christian asked, as they settled down in the elegant hotel restaurant.
    “ Have one of these wonderful croissants for a start.”
    “ Try on