Page 140 of One Time in Paris

The love of her life.

Aiden ignored everyone else as he stepped into the room, slipping his arms around Isla. “My God, you look beautiful,” he whispered as though she was the only one there.

The group gathered their things, filing out past them. Isla glanced over Aiden’s shoulder and caught her father’s eyes. “Be right there, Dad. I just want to talk to Aiden for a few minutes before the wedding.”

“As long as I get to walk you down, I’ll wait,” he said with a wink, then closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.

Isla bit her lower lip as her arms tightened around Aiden’s neck. “You like the dress?”

“Once again,youmake the dress. And much as it’s lovely, right now all I can think about is taking you out of it,” he whispered huskily, grazing a kiss along her jaw.

“We cannot have sex minutes before the wedding.” Her body betrayed her words, though, her mouth tilting back to meet his as he consumed her with a kiss.

“Wouldn’t take long,” he said between kisses, edging her back toward a wall. He pressed himself against her eagerly. “I could be quick.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She kissed him back hungrily, then pushed him back. “Dammit, now I have to fix my lipstick.” She wiped the remnants of it from his mouth with a grin. “I promise, there will be plenty of time for sex after the ceremony. And, um, for the rest of our lives.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “Husbee.”

“That’s ghastly, you know.Wife.”

Isla shivered with delight, loving the way it sounded in his voice, even if he was pretending to cringe.“That’s not fair.”

Aiden gave her a roguish smile. “What can I say? If I’m going to say wedding vows in front of a camera, beside the Eiffel Tower,witha hard-on, I may as well make sure you’re completely wet, too.”

Isla groaned, then headed toward a small table for her lipstick. She went to the mirror to fix it. Through the reflection, she watched as Aiden adjusted himself, then stepped out onto the open balcony, and she grinned.

I love him so much.

She reapplied her lipstick, then joined him on the balcony. They’d gotten a hotel that could not only accommodate everyone they’d flown over here for this last-minute wedding ceremony but one that also had a spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower.

Below them, the streets of Paris bustled with life—tourists and Parisians in cafés, delighting in coffees and chocolate, vendors making crepes, couples laughing and smoking. Cyclists everywhere, racing through the streets somewhat recklessly. And a street violinist, too, playing “La Vie en Rose,” on a spectacular, cloudless, warm day.

Even from here, Isa caught sight of the production—the chairs they’d set up on the grass—the small group of her family and friends walking toward them.

“We should go,” she said, slipping her fingers through Aiden’s. “Wouldn’t want to be late to oursecondwedding.”

He chuckled, then turned and pulled her into his arms. “I don’t know. I sort of miss all the neon and flashing lights from the background of our first wedding.” Regret hinted at his voice. “I wish I could remember it, though.”

“I know. Me too. Though, if we remembered it, we might not have gone through with it. I do have a faint memory of you kissing me that night, though. We were by the Eiffel Tower there, I think.”

“Really?” He set his head on top of hers. “How’s that for irony? All roads lead to Paris, apparently.”

“Maybe not irony. Maybe destiny.” Isla stepped back, still holding his hands. “You know what? I have something for you. I was going to give it to you later tonight, but this seems a better time.”

He gave her a curious look as she left him and hurried over toward her suitcase. Digging into it, she pulled out a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and brought it to him. “For you.”

“Did you frame our marriage license?” He smirked.

“No. Something better.” She watched eagerly as he peeled the paper back to reveal a framed crayon drawing.

His gaze flicked over it, surprise lighting his expression, then he looked up at her, eyes widening slightly. “Is this . . .”

“You and me. I drew it when we were kids, apparently. My father gave it to me.” Tears pricked her throat, and she smiled. “So you see, it was always you, Aiden. And whatever winding path we took to get here, I’m just glad it led me to you. I love you.”

“I will cherish this for life. I love you, too, Miss Skye.” He furrowed his brow playfully. “Or should I say, Mrs. Skye?”

He set the picture down and leaned to kiss her, then paused. “Dammit, I don’t want to ruin your makeup again.”

Isla wrapped her arms around his neck and shrugged. “You’ve never ruined anything for me, Aiden. You make everything better. You’re my home. Where I belong.”

He smiled, then his mouth dropped to hers, and he kissed her thoroughly.

Every road, every obstacle had brought them here—to each other. To love. To Paris, once again. And this time, surrounded by their family and closest friends—and a film crew—they’d remember and cherish every moment.