by Vivian Wood
Her eyes snapped open, those gorgeous green eyes alert and excited. “We’re already here?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Oh my God,” she whispered as the plane descended into Monte Carlo. “I get it now.”
“Get what?” he asked.
She looked at him with big eyes. “Why the Monte Carlo in Vegas was designed like it is. It looks like it would fit in here perfectly. All white and regal.”
He laughed. “I guess I can see that. I’ve never stayed at that Monte Carlo. I’m usually a Bellagio or Caesar’s kind of guy.”
“I’ve never stayed there,” she said. “But I won twenty dollars with just a quarter in a slot machine there once.” Her eyes were glued to the white sandy beaches and turquoise waters as they neared the little airport. “What do they speak here? French?”
“Oui, tu as raison,” he said. His French was rusty, and he’d always struggled to place his Rs in the back of his throat. Still, he’d persisted. It was good for business—and great for turning on women.
“Remercier Dieu pendant quatre ans de français,” she replied.
He looked at her, impressed. There were so many things he didn’t know.
“Four years in college,” she said with a grin.
He’d instantly hardened when she’d turned, so naturally, and that native-sounding French poured out of her mouth. Don’t let this get to you, he reminded himself. Her excitement, how the language sounded on her tongue, the romance of being in Monte Carlo—it would be easy to get swept up in it. Remember that we’re going back. And the money that’s between us. It’s a business arrangement. That’s all.
“Thank you,” he told the attendant and pilot as they departed, palming both of them a generous tip.
“Just renewed your passport?” the customs attendant asked Sam.
“Oh, yeah,” she said.
“Nice picture,” the small man said. “Belle femme,” he told Connor.
Parked with the engine running just past the small booth was the cherry red Alfa Romeo Spider 1600 he’d rented.
“Oh wow,” she said as she traced her hand over the convertible. “A 1966?” she asked.
“Alright, what don’t you know?” he teased her, and nodded for the hired attendant to take their larger bags ahead to the house.
“Who doesn’t know that?” she asked. “Besides the fact that the Duetto is what Dustin Hoffmann drove in The Graduate.”
“Ah, Mrs. Robinson,” he said. “One of my first crushes.”
She looked at him with a raised brow.
“My father loved that movie,” he said. “Big surprise. You want to drive?” he asked, and surprised even himself.
Her eyes got big. “No!” she said. “I… I don’t like driving abroad. It makes me too nervous.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. The sun still lit up the sky, barely.
“Where are we staying?” she asked as she tied a silk scarf kept in her purse around her hair. She looked like a young Anne Bancroft, he realized. Save for those eyes that pulled everyone close.
“Hôtel Hermitage Monte-Carlo,” he told her. He was slightly ashamed by how poor his accent was compared to hers. That was a first. It had been a long time since he’d felt bested by anyone.
“Never heard of it,” she said. Sam’s hand soared just beyond the door as she let the wind carry her. “Not that I expected to,” she added.
“Well, it’s no Monte Carlo in Las Vegas, but it should do,” he told her. She slapped him lightly on the arm and laughed.
Sam took in the city with sheer wonder. He’d forgotten what that was like, to be so thrilled and awestruck at being somewhere new. To not feel like he had to act nonchalant and unimpressed with everything in life. Connor soaked it up happily and let himself experience the city through her eyes.
As they checked in, the man at the front desk eyed Sam without reservations. “Your, eh… sister?” he asked Connor. It seemed half in hope, and half in confusion that he’d booked a suite with two bedrooms.
“My fiancée,” he said quickly.
“But, monsieur, you have the Exclusive Room,” he said.
“Yes…”
“It has the, eh, two bedrooms? Are you expecting more guests?”
“No. We just like our space,” he said. Sam had wandered away slightly and stared up at the soaring glass dome ceiling supported by elegant white columns which featured swirls and lattice-like details.
“Yes, I understand,” the man said with a nod. “Pierre will escort you.”
“Pierre,” Connor whispered to Sam as they walked toward the private elevator. “Your boyfriend’s here.”
She rolled her eyes. “You caught me,” she said.
“I can see you really do make full use of your French,” he said.
As they crossed the foyer, a teenage boy on holiday with his parents meowed at Sam. She jumped and gave the kid a funny look. “What was that?” she asked Connor.
He laughed. “Meowing is the catcall in France. And, apparently, Monaco.”
“Well, that’s weird!” she said.
“Your suite,” Pierre said, as he threw open the double doors in a grand gesture.
“Oh, my…” Sam’s voice trailed off as she took in the incredible ocean views. “The beach is right there!” she said. Below them, the last of the setting sun was reflected in the waters.
“Would you like me to show you—” Pierre began, but Connor shook his head and handed him his tip.
“No need, I’m familiar with the suite,” he said.
“It’s incredible,” Sam whispered to him. She stood at the glass that overlooked the beach, and he came up behind her.
“Go get ready for dinner,” he said into her ear. “There are a few options beyond what James packed for you, waiting in your en suite.”
“You’re crazy,” she said, but turned to him with eyes filled with wonder.
18
Sam
Sam had crashed right after dinner the night before, jet lagged and drained from the spikes in adrenaline. However, it ensured her clock got back on schedule and when she woke up in the morning, it was to a note from Connor which asked her to choose a bikini from the dresser for a day on the beach.
She couldn’t help but try on every single one. From Minimale Animale sexy monokinis with mesh overlays to bright printed cutout bikinis from Agent Provocateur that made her feel like Sofia Vergara, she couldn’t choose.
However, when she looked at herself in the mirror, shyness suddenly overtook her. She tried on a simple bikini, distracted by the fact that all of the bottoms James had chosen rode up her ass into makeshift G-strings. Is this the look here? she wondered.
“Connor! You out there?” she called.
“Yeah, you ready?”
“I don’t know,” she said. Sam walked out to the great room where sunlight streamed through the window. “I can’t decide,” she told him. “Which one do you think?” She held up the palm tree-covered mesh monokini and the option with bright pops of color and so many straps she couldn’t remember how she got into it.
His eyes ate her up, and traveled from the span of her thighs up—slowly—to her throat. “Definitely the one you’re wearing,” he said lowly.
It made her blush, but she nodded and put the other two options away.
Even behind her Oliver Peoples glasses, she noticed the stares as they walked to the beach. “Isn’t this a private beach?” she whispered to him as a middle-aged man’s eyes nearly popped out.
“The hotel owns, it, yes,” Connor replied. “But just because people have the money to stay here, it doesn’t buy them any class.”
She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Sam noticed how the blazing white bikini she’d chosen complemented Connor’s trunks. The deep blue pattern was piped in white, and his vintage t-shirt was so tight in the arms and chest it threatened to burst.
“Wait a minute,” Sam said. She slowed down and looked around the beach. “Are they… is she…”<
br />
“Who? What?” he asked, concerned.
Sam grabbed his forearm and pulled him close. “That woman over there is naked,” she hissed.
“What? No, she’s not,” he said. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked briefly. Connor turned back to her.
“Yes, she is!”
“She’s topless,” he conceded. “Not naked.”
“That’s what I mean!” Sam looked around and realized that most of them women wore nothing on top. Some were face down on their chaise lounge chairs or towels in the sand while they tanned their backs. But others didn’t seem to give a damn and were proudly face up. A couple passed them and smiled in greeting. The girl’s heavy breasts swung wildly.
“It’s Monaco,” he told her. “Most beaches here are topless. Hey, by the way, I got us a boat for tomorrow.”
She smiled awkwardly at him and tried to regain her composure. Connor tipped one of the attendants as they reached a roped-off area of the beach. He spread out a massive towel for them and she began to rub sunscreen across her skin. “You mind doing my back?” she asked him as she handed the bottle over.
“That’s an old line, if I ever heard one,” he said, but Connor took the bottle.
She rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “It’s hardly a line,” she said. “That’s exactly what I need, a sunburned back. Come on.”
“Lie down,” he commanded.
She moved onto her belly and rested her cheek on her hands. It felt strange, Connor’s large hands on her shoulders. He massaged her shoulder blades, her “wings,” as he called them, as slowly and seductively as possible.
Sam wanted to say something. She thought about breaking the tension by calling him out or making a joke, but couldn’t seem to make herself speak. His hands on hers were like fireworks. She thought she might burst into flames if she spoke.
When his hands reached her waist, she could have sworn he squeezed gently. She felt his palms at the swell of her backside, his fingers at the hem of that tiny bikini bottom. Sam remembered just how slight that material was. She couldn’t blame him if he stared at her ass, but was too embarrassed to turn around and look.
For a moment, she thought he would keep going. Just slide his hands underneath her, or into the crevice of her backside. But he stopped short. She was nearly breathless, and realized she’d hoped he’d go farther.
“Okay, now do me,” he said. Had she imagined the seduction? His voice sounded completely normal.
She lifted herself onto all fours as he pulled the shirt over his head. Quickly, he rubbed the lotion across his chest and abs, legs, biceps and forearms. A tiny mewling came from somewhere nearby, and Sam looked around. She was shocked when she realized it was her, but Connor seemed too caught up in the task to notice. She’d never been more thankful for the sound of crashing waves, the only other sound that could mask what must have been sheer desire.
Connor flipped onto his stomach and handed her the bottle over his shoulder. She tried, awkwardly, to spread the white lotion across his shoulders and back, but he was just so broad.
“You’re missing the other side,” he told her gruffly. “You’ll either have to switch sides when you’re done or just get on. Don’t worry, nobody’s going to think you’re assaulting me.”
She blushed and weighed the options. It would be a look more awkward if she had to get up and do the other side when she was done. Sam straddled him, very aware of the seemingly sexual position. But nobody on the beach, either the other guests or the attendants, seemed to notice or care.
From this angle, his body was even more distracting. Her hands glanced across his muscled shoulders and lingered at his triceps which popped even when relaxed. She moved down and across his lats, feeling each swollen muscle at a time. “You could have been a massage therapist,” he told her, his face buried in his arms.
Slowly, she worked down his back. The mound of his glutes was incredibly hard. She thought about what it would be like to be with him in that way. I mean, a bunch of women already had, right? What did they know that she didn’t?
She thought of the girl at the party who’d congratulated her and compared him to a horse. All he’d have to do is turn over, and—
Sam realized she’d rubbed his upper butt for way too long. She wasn’t sure how long exactly, but her imagination had whisked her away.
She got up abruptly, snapped the sunscreen shut and tossed it next to him. “I’m getting in the water,” she mumbled quickly. He turned to look at her, and she thought she saw a glint in his eyes. Maybe? But no, it was the same Connor as always.
“If you’re going out there, you may as well take your top off. You don’t get those kinds of chances in the United States,” he said. Then he smiled. “I can help you with the sunscreen in those hard to reach spots if you want.”
She must have blushed all the way to her roots. “Are you crazy?” she asked. “And thanks, but no thanks on the offer.”
“Okay, but look around,” he said, and gestured toward the water. “You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb.”
She looked, and had to admit he was right. Not a single woman had her top on. Haven’t these women ever heard of monokinis or one-pieces?
“Are you going?” he asked.
She shook her head and sat back down. “Never mind,” she said. “It’s not good to go out in the sun between ten and two anyway. That’s when UV rays are the worst.”
“You’re making that up,” he said with a laugh. Connor gestured for the attendant to bring them two drinks.
“I’m not!” she said. “Trust me, I once dated a dermatologist.”
“Well, that’s a sentence you don’t hear every day,” he said.
Sam dug a book out of her purse, turned onto her stomach and started to read.
“What are you reading?” he asked, almost instantly.
She sighed. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”
He shrugged and went back to either texting or napping. It was incredible. He was surrounded by a ton of hot women literally wearing absolutely nothing but tiny bikini bottoms, and it was like he was completely oblivious.
Sam couldn’t help but sneak looks at all the women as they passed. Of course she’d seen plenty of breasts in her life. The locker room, her girlfriends when they got ready together, but it was always very brief. Nobody just walked around and let it all hang out—literally—like that before.
Thank god for big sunglasses, because the people-watching here was incredible. All ages, all sizes, it didn’t matter. She was particularly impressed by an older woman who must have been about sixty with the breasts of a teenager. “Hey,” Sam whispered and nudged Connor. “Do you think those are real?”
“Huh? What?” he asked, and she realized he’d been asleep.
“Never mind,” she said.
Another girl, who seemed quite young, wandered by and was painfully flat-chested. Sam felt sorry for her, but just for an instant. After all, it certainly didn’t look like the girl lacked any self-confidence.
She sighed and looked down at her book. Her finger was still pressed into page three like a makeshift bookmark. How long had they been out here?
Sam pulled her phone out of her bag. She didn’t have any data or service in Monaco, so it was really just a glorified clock. Nearly two o’clock. They’d been out here for hours. She’d been staring at strangers’ tits for hours.
“Another drink, madam?” the attendant asked her. He was young, likely a teenager, with the most unbelievable bronzed skin.
“Oui, merci,” she said quietly. Connor breathed deeply next to her, but stirred at the brief conversation.
“Me, too,” he said to her.
“Are you just waking up to eat and drink now?” she teased him.
“That’s what a vacation’s all about,” he said. “By the way, you need to take some selfies or something and post them to whatever you do. Don’t forget, we’re still selling this. We’ll call this the romantic vacati
on pre-wedding getaway project.”
“Great,” she said, but turned on her camera app. “Okay, act like you love me,” she said and held the camera out to snap their photo.
She had to admit, he followed instructions well. They looked like any other happy couple. No filter needed.
“So, what was the book about?” he asked as the drinks arrived.
“Oh, um. Nothing you’d be interested in,” she said.
19
Sam
When the sun started to set, they gathered up the towels and headed back to the hotel.
“I can’t believe you didn’t go in the water once,” Connor told her.
She shrugged and tried to play it off. “Maybe tomorrow,” she said.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving. I thought for sure I could live off of mojitos, but apparently not. Twenty-one-year-old me is so disappointed in myself.”
He laughed. “Well good, because dinner’s in an hour. What are your thoughts on local oysters for a starter?”
Her stomach rumbled at the thought. Something about being in the sun all day had revved up her appetite. “Sounds great,” she said.
They parted ways in the common area, and she sifted through the gowns and dresses that hung in her closet. She chose a floor-length, Grecian-style white gown with a slit nearly to her hip bone. It showcased her toned shoulders and the color she’d soaked up that afternoon.
In the shower, the six heads sprayed the last remnants of the beach from her. Sam watched white sand as it trickled down the drain. Just a few weeks ago, she never believed she’d be somewhere like this. Thank god my job required me to get a passport to work there—just in case. She’d been so nervous that Connor would realize she’d never been out of the country.
Sam swept her hair up in a loose chignon to show off the backless dress. Just a swipe of coral lipstick plus thick fake lashes, and the look was complete. There was no need for highlighter or bronzer. The beach had worked its magic.
