In the City of Light, one dancer must confront her fears about love and loss before she can step into a brighter future . . .

  Lily Johannson has returned to Paris, the city that broke her heart and destroyed her ballet career, with two goals in mind: to overcome the grief surrounding her fiancé’s death, and to make amends with her estranged sister, Natalie, also a ballerina. But when Lily meets charming composer Yves Rousseau, he is convinced she has a third mission—as his muse . . .

  Struggling to finish a score about an infamous Ballets Russes dancer from 1917, Yves believes Lily is meant to help him. Despite her resistance, she is swept once more into the exhilarating arms of the dance—and into Yves’ passionate embrace. But when her sister is cast as the infamous dancer and begins to imitate her tragic life, she soon goes missing. Now Lily and Yves must set out to find her—and along the way face their own demons, while also discovering that art, like love, should not be abandoned so easily . . .

  By Alli Sinclair

  Under the Parisian Sky

  Under the Spanish Stars

  Midnight Serenade

  And novella

  Dreaming of Spain

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Under the Parisian Sky

  Alli Sinclair

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  By Alli Sinclair

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Teaser chapter

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  Discussion questions for Under the Parisian Sky

  Teaser chapter

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Alli Sinclair

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: July 2017

  eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-896-4

  eISBN-10: 1-60183-896-4

  ISBN: 978-1-6018-3896-4

  For Garry, Rebecca, and Nicholas.

  Thank you for bringing sunshine to the world and love into my heart.

  Acknowledgments

  Once again I am so very blessed to work with a wonderful group of people who love stories as much as I do.

  A huge thank you to the talented and magnificent team at Kensington Publishing. It’s an absolute delight working with all of you. Extra special thanks to my wonderful editor, Esi Sogah, whose passion for the written word shines through in everything she does. Esi, your fabulous feedback and encouragement are always greatly appreciated and your eye for detail is amazing.

  A super big thank you to the brilliant Lucienne Diver of The Knight Agency. I adore working with you and your insight, support, and enthusiasm is fabulous. Thank you so much for all that you do.

  Thank you so much to Jacinta di Mase from Jacinta di Mase Management for your tremendous support.

  Of course, I need to thank my writing crew who think it is totally normal if I talk to myself or the characters in my head. Thank you to: Dave Sinclair, Di Curran, Heidi Noroozy, Juliet Madison, Kathryn Ledson, Kerri Lane, Louise Ousby, Natalie Hatch, Rachael Johns, Supriya Savkoor, T.M. Clark, and Tess Woods for brainstorming and cracking the whip when needed.

  To my Girly Whirlies: Misty Simon, Danita Cahill, Barrie Summy, Maureen McGowan, and our beloved Flo Moyer. Who knew a group of writers meeting online more than ten years ago would lead to such wonderful friendships?

  An extra big thank you to the Romance Writers of America. The support you have given me—and countless authors—is absolutely phenomenal and I am forever grateful to be involved with this wonderful organization. RWA has introduced me to many people who are now friends I will cherish forever. I wish you all endless hours of happy writing and reading.

  Merci to Albert Lecoanet for making sure my French translations were spot on and for helping me expand my French vocabulary past swear words.

  A very special thank you to Rebecca Slaven and the staff and students at the Geelong Ballet Centre. Your wonderful expertise is greatly appreciated!

  Thank you so much to the amazing staff at the National Gallery of Australia, whose expertise and enthusiasm about their Ballets Russes collection is incredible. I will never forget the time you took to show me the beautiful costumes, scenery, sketches, and programs from the Ballets Russes. A special thank you goes to Simeran Maxwell, Hannah Barrett, Aaron Pollock, and Helen Hyland.

  A whole world of thank yous to my extended family and non-writing friends, who don’t mind when I’m a little distracted with my characters and plotting. This journey is so much sweeter with your unwavering support. Special thanks to Mum, Dave, and my beloved Dad (missing you always) for encouraging me to follow my dreams.

  This book is dedicated to my gorgeous family—Garry, Rebecca, and Nicholas—who bring so much joy to my life. Thank you so much for your love, encouragement, and sharing this journey of life with me. Love you loads!

  And a special thank you to you, dear reader, for choosing to spend time Under the Parisian Sky. May the experience leave a smile on your lips and a song in your heart.

  Chapter One

  Lily Johansson rested her leg on the railing of the balcony and slowly leaned forward, stretching her muscles as she gazed upon Boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread made her stomach grumble as the light breeze danced around the trees, their leaves shimmering in the midday light. On the wide avenue below, tourists and locals bustled in and out of trendy clothes shops and bookstores or settled in for a long, lazy lunch at one of the numerous cafes.

  The sun warmed her skin as she pointed her toes and concentrated on each muscle, her body well acquainted with the rigors of being pushed to its limits. Lily repeated the process with the other leg, then stood in first position, bent her knees slowly while moving her arms from first through to fifth position. As much as she hated using ballet as a way to keep the horrendous back pain at bay, she couldn’t deny that the movements she’d spent a lifetime perfecting helped immensely. She’d have thought by now, though, that time would have healed most of the wounds, especially the emotional. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and since arriving in Paris the day before, the pain had increased three-fold.

  Lily finished her routine, rested her elbows on the railing, and took in the view. Paris felt like a lifetime away from Rutherford Creek, her hometown in rural Australia. She still found it crazy that a young country girl with stars in her eyes had won a position at the Australian Ballet that led her to a contract with the most forward-thinking and prestigious ballet company in Europe. When she’d found out about her acceptance into the Bohème Ballet of Paris, the Australian media had clamored for interviews, but since the incident in Paris, she’d refused to speak to journalists, especially the more they’d hounded her. Even now, they knocked on her door in Australia hoping Lily would finally talk about that fateful night.

  Dipping her head and letting out a long sigh, Lily knew she couldn’t stay in this anonymous apartment forever. It had taken an incredible amount of energy and soul-searching to get on the plane to Paris, so holing up in a room ignoring the world around her would not get her the results she desired. She had a job to do, and while she’d have preferred to be anywhere but in the city that broke her heart, she had little choice. Demons needed to be confronted. No twenty-nine-year-old should live like this, especially one who’d once had the world lying in front of her pink pointe-shoes.

  Going back inside, Lily shoved her camera into the backpack and grabbed the room key. She closed the door, descended the stairs, and stepped out onto the street. Although tempted to put off the inevitable by procrastinating with a coffee, she picked up the pace, determined to reach the Jardin Marco Polo and take advantage of the best natural light of the day. Entering the ga
rdens, she stopped to gaze at the four semi-naked statues holding up a globe of the world, their faces relaying the strain of their effort. After taking a moment to admire the craftsmanship, she rounded the fountain and carefully framed the subjects in the lens, snapping photos from different angles. Strength emanated from these statues and Lily hoped some of their bravery might rub off on her. Since arriving in Paris, her self-doubt had strangled her confidence and killed the strength she needed to endure the reminders of Aiden’s death and her sister’s abandonment.

  She checked the screen of the camera, satisfied with the end result. Since quitting ballet, she’d used photography as a coping mechanism to deal with the long, lonely days. This pursuit gave her a sense of control, unlike her personal and professional life that continued to spin deeper into the abyss. With photography, if the angle wasn’t quite right, or she wanted to zoom in on her subject, Lily could make adjustments to get the outcome she wanted, unlike her efforts in real life. Which was why she was here, in a beautiful park in Paris, taking photographs instead of knocking on her sister’s door and having it slammed in her face. Again.

  Lily took some more shots, enjoying the different subject matter. The oranges and reds of the landscapes of Rutherford Creek and surrounds had been her subject of choice for the past couple years, so it was nice to branch out and try something new. How many times had her mother nagged her about getting back out into the world and finding her feet again? Lily still thought her mother was way too harsh, but she could also see her point of view. It couldn’t be pleasant watching your once successful daughter hiding in a tiny rural town and refusing to reconnect with the outside world.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the clear blue sky. Inhaling deeply, Lily allowed the crisp air flow into her lungs. She’d hoped her body would relax and her nerves would settle, but the exercise proved pointless.

  Not quite ready to deal with the inevitable rejection from her sister, Natalie, Lily used the park’s beauty as a distraction. Gold, red, and orange leaves clung to branches and the gentle breeze sent them drifting into large piles on the grass. Although the trees and surrounding buildings of Paris looked completely different to Rutherford Creek Municipal Park, she could easily picture herself as a kid running through the leaves with Natalie as they basked in the beauty of childhood innocence. Those days were long gone, though, and no amount of wishing would ever bring those back.

  Dragging herself away from sad memories, Lily studied the small groups of teens texting as they hurried along the wide gravel paths, the elderly couples strolling arm in arm and mothers with young children in tow. Everyone was active, aside from a solitary figure on a park bench nearby.

  Even from this distance, he intrigued her. His olive skin contrasted against the blue sky and his brown, shoulder-length hair had the faux-tousled look of someone who’d spent a lot of time styling in front of the mirror. But it was the way he stared into the distance, pencil poised above a notebook that really caught her attention. He oozed intensity, as if a lot rode on what he was doing. Or not doing, as was the case.

  Her fingers itched to snap a sneaky shot of this handsome specimen but she refrained, not wanting to draw attention to herself or annoy him. Although, by the way he lounged on the bench, he gave the impression that he was accustomed to being ogled by the general populous.

  Bet he’s arrogant, she thought, then chastised herself. She’d spent years being judged on her appearance and how she moved her body, yet here she was judging a stranger. Feeling guilty about her shallowness, she looked over and gave him a smile. His eyes connected with hers but his expression relayed nothing.

  She spied an empty bench under a tree on the opposite side of the path. Sitting down, she rummaged in her backpack for a bottle of water, twisted open the top, and took a sip before turning her attention to the fountain. It truly was a work of art, especially the marine horses. Beautifully designed, the horses looked like they were about to leap out of the fountain. Feeling a presence, she cast a sideways glance at the attractive arty bloke who was now scribbling furiously. Whatever had blocked him had disappeared as he bent over the notepad and wrote with fervor. Every so often he glanced in her direction, his poker face giving nothing away; then he’d return to his paper, lost in a flurry of inspiration. Curiosity wanted to shove her over his way so she could ask what he was working on, but she didn’t have the heart to interrupt.

  Standing, she shivered. The sun now hid behind a bank of clouds with a dubious gray tinge. She placed her camera in the backpack, and headed in the direction of Théâtre du Châtelet, where her sister was rehearsing with Bohème Ballet Company—the same ballet company Lily and Aiden had once been so excited about working for.

  She adjusted the straps on the backpack and took one last look at the guy on the bench. He chewed his lip as he wrote, and she wondered how anyone could write that fast without getting a serious cramp.

  Enough with the distractions, Lily, get your act together.

  Taking a deep breath, she marched through the park and down Boulevard Saint-Michel until she reached Le Seine. Halfway across Pont au Change she stopped to catch breath, resting her hands on the rails.

  The formidable La Conciergerie perched on the banks as storm clouds rolled above the gray turrets of the centuries old building. Once a palace that had turned into a prison during the French Revolution, La Conciergerie had been the last resting place for prisoners before they were taken away and executed on the guillotine—its most famous inmate being Marie Antoinette. Lily doubted Marie Antoinette could have envisaged her life turning out the way it did, just like Lily could never have imagined her ballet career would be cut short so tragically. Refusing to get stuck in that dark place once more, she gazed up at the historic buildings. She doubted she’d ever get used to being surrounded by so much history. Then again, she didn’t plan on sticking around Paris for too long. Get in, do what she had to do, then get out. A simple plan, no complications.

  She continued powering down the street to finally arrive at Théâtre du Châtelet. Crowds of tourists stood out front, cameras at the ready, capturing the imposing arches and balcony. But the beauty of the majestic theater was lost on Lily. The last time she’d been here was with Aiden and they’d spent hours wandering through the theater where the music of Tchaikovsky and Strauss, the sets of Picasso, and the incredible dancers of the Ballets Russes had once graced the ornate stage. History, culture, and behind-the-scenes dramas lay secreted between the walls, just begging to be discovered. A new life in Paris had awaited Lily and Aiden and they’d soaked up every moment—until a hulking piece of metal on wheels had ploughed through their lives. Back then it had been easy to swear off ballet and refuse to continue her dream of dancing on stage at the Théâtre du Châtelet. But now, standing on the threshold of broken dreams, she could barely catch her breath. Had her decision to quit ballet back then been the wrong one?

  Lily rubbed the small of her back, the ache increasing as her muscles tensed. She’d been lucky to get out of the accident alive, let alone still be able to walk. Some days she wished the car had finished her off because then she wouldn’t have to endure the ghosts and the guilt. If only Lily could believe she deserved to move on and find a life worth living.

  A life that wasn’t wasted.

  A life worthy of finding love once more.

  Staring off into the distance, she allowed her eyes to lose focus. In front of her stood Aiden with windswept hair, his smile enveloping her in love. His warm hand wrapped around hers and together they ran down the halls of the theater, laughing like they were love-struck teenagers. Aiden flung open a door, hauled her inside the rehearsal room, and pressed her against the wall, his hard dancer’s body slowly and sensuously moving against hers. Aiden placed his lips on hers and—