Three hours later we are back in the middle of Paris, having just left the Eiffel Tower we've found a little market. I'm a sucker for a good market, so I drag Rhodes through the stalls looking for nothing in particular. I find a stand that I like very much, a young father and son are selling their water colour paintings of the many views of Paris. It's attracted a couple of other people's attention as well, so I quietly flick my way through the small paintings while Rhodes stands outside the stall waiting for me.
The young man appears next to me after I've selected a few pieces and begins to speak to me in French. I can't lie, he's quiet gorgeous. He's tall with jet black hair and a smile almost too big for his face. I'm immediately embarrassed, he thinks I'm French, and he's waiting for
