CHAPTER 1
Jillian
Bright sunshine sparkled on the surf and sand as I spread out our picnic blanket.
Perfect weather, a packed feast, the whole day with my husband, and the beach only a few steps from our little blue house and coffee shop?
What could be better?
Cucumber and watercress sandwiches, turkey salad, BBQ chicken legs, fresh slices of watermelon and lemon cake.
I set it all out and smiled as I heard Frankie’s voice.
“Mine!”
He dove for the volleyball, sending a huge cloud of pure white sand up in the air, and I had to laugh as he popped up with a huge grin on his face, his tanned chest covered in sand, shaking it out of his shaggy blonde hair.
Frankie was always gregarious and outgoing, and it didn’t take much to entice him into a volleyball game with a bunch of random tourists.
His energy was so warm and magnetic, and my husband had never met a stranger in his life. The way he high-fived and chatted with everyone, you’d think they’d all be been best friends for years.
In fact, Christabellehadbeen one of his best friends for years.
So when she happened to be in town for a few weeks, of course they ended up doing a lot of things together.
That’s all this was.
Christabelle grunted as she served the ball, rising high on her toes as she smacked it with a hearty whack.
She was about our age of 30, with long golden blonde beachy waves and a perfect hourglass figure.
Her body was very athletic, her swimsuit a pink so pale it was almost translucent, the outline of her big round nipples visibly pressing against the thin fabric.
Her bikini bottoms hugged her figure, the cut so high in the back that every movement made her perky cheeks wiggle like two bouncy boba balls.
Frankie dove into the sand to get her serve, the soft pillowy milky-white sand flying up as the ball bounced high into the air.
He came up laughing, the sand all stuck to the defined pectorals on his sticky wet chest.
“You’re too good!” she squealed.
A breeze blew by and I tucked a corner of my skirt under my legs.
I felt sticky and overheated.
The turkey salad couldn’t gettoowarm. . .
They took a break and Frankie went over to fill up his water bottle, Christabelle following.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were laughing about something, Frankie throwing back his head so I could see the strong lines of his throat and chest.
There was still sand stuck to him, the sun glistening off the sweat on his lean, strong body.
She wiped her brow and he seemed to hold his water bottle out to her, like he was offering it.
I felt my palms sweat, as Christabelle put her lips right where his had been and took a long swallow.
Don’t overreact, I told myself.
