Clarissa and the Cowboy

Nathan: Right now Clarissa, our tour guide, is talking about prehistoric cave paintings. In a moment, she'll point at the mammoth . . . Wait for it . . .

"Look at the mammoth on your right," she says. Told ya! I've done her tour six times in two months.

Everyone gawks at the mammoth. My eyes stay trained on Clarissa's lovely face. After the tour, I'll ask her out, fully expecting her to say no. I mean, why would a hotshot Parisian archaeologist go on a date with a dairy farmer from the sticks?

But I need to hear Clarissa's no. Maybe then I'll be able to forget her.

Clarissa: Nathan, aka Cowboy, is here again. Staring at me again. I ignore him. Just as I've ignored the hot, disturbing dreams I've been having lately. Dreams in which a handsome cowboy undresses me. Kisses me. Pleasures me into oblivion. Crazy dreams!

In real life, I'm going back to Paris to start a new job in a big museum. The one thing I don't need during my last week in Burgundy is a roll in the hay with Nathan. Even if that roll turns out to be better than my craziest dreams . . .

Contains mature themes.