Page 33 of Je T'aime, Actually

The beach was just ahead, the tide pulling gently across the pebbles as they made their way down and scanned for somewhere to settle; close enough to hear the water, not so close they’d have to move again if the sea crept in.

“There?” Chloé pointed to a patch just far enough up the shore to feel safe, but still kissed by the sun.

“Perfect,” Monroe said. “Most people are at work, so we should have it mostly to ourselves.”

They spread the blanket, laid out the bag, and dropped down beside each other, legs stretched.

The space between them disappeared as each moved closer until all that was left to do was kiss.

And so they did.

Monroe's fingers brushed Chloé’s knee; a soft, grounding touch. Chloé responded by tilting her head, deepening the kiss just a little.

The sea hushed and whispered in the background, the sun warming their bare arms, and for a long moment there was only the feeling of lips, hands, and breath. Monroe smiled against Chloé’s mouth and pulled back just slightly, her eyes half-lidded, soft.

“If we keep that up, we’ll forget the wine,” she murmured.

Chloé’s grin was wicked but affectionate. “Tragic.”

They stayed close, though. Knees pressed, shoulders touching, while Chloé reached into the bag and began unpacking their picnic: a small chopping board, a few napkins, a bottle of something pale and crisp, a wrapped wedge of cheese, fruit, torn pieces of bread.

“Leah’s idea,” she said, handing Monroe a proper wine glass. “Apparently, one mustn’t drink wine from plastic if one is trying to seduce someone in England.”

Monroe laughed. “Is that what this is?”

Chloé raised her glass in a mock toast. “I admit nothing. But I did point out the French do not drink wine from plastic either.”

They clinked their glasses, the sound light and perfect. The wine was cold, the cheese sharp, and the company, well, that was the best part.

“Do you want to swim?” Chloé asked as they nibbled contentedly.

“Maybe… I need to put some sun lotion on first,” Monroe said, looking a little helpless. “I can’t reach my back.”

“Oh, you need… I can, if you like?”

“I’d very much like that.” Monroe grinned and peeled her top off, revealing a bikini that covered her ample breasts while still leaving much of her skin exposed.

Chloé smiled, the warmth of the afternoon mixing with the heat rising between them. She reached out, her fingers gentle as they traced slow circles on Monroe’s bare skin, starting at her shoulders and moving down her back.

Monroe sighed softly, leaning into the touch, her breath hitching just slightly.

“It’s probably not hot enough to burn but…” Monroe murmured. “You’re making it very hard to focus on anything but you.”

Chloé smiled softly, her breath warm against Monroe’s ear. “Good. Because I have no intention of letting you focus on anything else today.”

The scent of coconut sunscreen mixed with salt air, the gentle lapping of waves providing a perfect soundtrack as they shared the quiet closeness.

When Chloé spoke next, it was more sombrely. “Monroe, I have to say that…I didn’t expect this—to meet someone quite so…exquisite.” She smiled as Monroe blushed. “But…I mustreturn to France earlier than planned. I need to speak with my staff about the takeover and—”

Monroe reached out. “I understand. It is what it is, and I’ve enjoyed it, and we still have the rest of the day, don’t we.”

“I have one more meeting tomorrow afternoon and then…I fly back in the evening.”

twenty-six

The sun didn’t last all day. By three, a chill had crept in; a reminder it was autumn, not summer, despite the late warmth’s protest.

Chloé was packing away their things when she felt Monroe’s gaze settle on her.