On the way back from the city they waved from the car to the thousands of onlookers who'd lined the streets.
News of the first couple's visit to the Left Bank had broken as soon as the cameras caught the first images early in the morning outside the café. Since then it seemed as if every TV station in France and the US carried each moment of their morning live.
Miraculously, thanks to the crafty work of Karrine and Anthony, the secret meeting in the Tuilerie Gardens was now universally referred to as a quiet interlude for the first couple where the notoriously affectionate pair enjoyed a private stroll in the heart of the city of love.
First uttered by the CNN correspondent the same line was picked up by every other news crew. Little did the woman who initially used it realize that the comment was carefully crafted and fed to her by Joe's press team, knowing that the hint of intimacy would catch the imagination of the TV folks and be tossed like a hotcake between them all.
The first time they'd heard it, spoken to the cameras live outside the bookshop, Karrine had nudged Anthony conspiratorially and they'd laughed quietly together congratulating themselves on a job well done.
Doubly satisfying was the fact that the reporter was so busy rehashing that moment in the sculpture garden to the bank of cameras assembled she managed to completely miss the president and first lady squeezing in a kiss and a quick fondle as the store owner wrapped the gift books for them just inside.
Interestingly that moment was initiated by the first lady who'd caught her husband's wrist and had guided him towards the back of the store, conveniently out of the sight line of everyone but the close protection team.
Sam and Natasha, Dave and Tony, totally used to the antics of the pair, had given them as much space as they could as the first lady slipped her hands around her husband's neck.
'Thank you for all of this, Joe. It's been a wonderful morning', she'd said and the four had averted their eyes as the expected kiss came to fruition.
The president, smitten as always by his wife, rested his forehead against hers. 'Sorry it can't be longer but we did pretty well', he replied quietly, knowing that the agents were getting jumpy as the crowds continued to gather outside.
'We still have the evening in Paris. Maybe we could go out to dinner ... only if you want to, though', he said quickly, knowing that Jill could only tolerate so much of the cameras and the shouted questions.
In the shop, surrounded by books and the calm, cozy atmosphere, with her husband gazing adoringly at her she thought about the secret pile Anthony had already paid for and stashed away. She imagined the teetering piles they'd both carefully selected waiting to be paid for at the counter. She thought longingly of the cool hotel suite, the privacy that awaited them a short drive away, the evening that still stretched ahead before their return to Ireland in the morning.
She stroked the wool of his roll neck before slipping her fingers under the hem, boldly tracing his belt buckle for a moment before her long fingers gently scratched against his belly in a private invitation.
'Honestly, I'm a bit hot', she said.
'Don't I know it, babe', Joe replied emphatically and she laughed and scratched her fingers a little harder in response.
'I was actually referring to my clothing', she admonished him playfully.
'Sure you were', he teased, knowing exactly what she meant. But he also understood the message his wife's gently scratching fingers were communicating to him.
He ran his hands along the length of her back before settling at the base. 'Anyway, you were telling me how hot you are', he said and his grin split his face, his eye almost closing in that incredibly sexy way it naturally did when he was being especially playful.
