It intrigued her to think that anyone seeing them would assume they were lovers, in every sense of the word, not just the sexual one, but she knew that love was the one thing off the menu. The Orangerie was still bustling but not overrun in the way of some of the hotspot galleries. She and Olivier had spent the morning walking from his flat through the Tuileries Gardens to the Musée Marmottan. It held the world’s largest collection of Monets, but until now, Lisa had been far too busy working to visit it. After lunch in a pavement bistro on the Ile de Saint Louis, they had moved on to view the lily murals that were kept in the Orangerie. Looking at the pictures through the eyes of a real artist had been a revelation for Lisa. “I can hardly bear to tear myself away,” she said, enjoying the light pressure of his arm around her waist. “Though you must have seen these murals so many times. Don’t you ever get bored?” “No…” He paused, and she felt his embrace loosen a little.
