STEFAN STROLLED THROUGH the charming, cobblestoned village of Mammoth Lakes near the gondola that led to the top of the ski mountain. He had his arm around the woman he loved and he’d survived a blizzard. How lucky could a guy get? The only thing missing was a resolution to the threat that Penelope faced, but he was making progress on that.
The doctor who was treating him told him that he needed a couple of more days of limited activity, and then he’d be cleared for action again. He’d been able to do a lot from the cabin, working through Josh and the private cyber investigator he’d hired in New York to follow the digital trail. Every day they were getting closer.
This was his first day out of the cabin, and he breathed in the crisp air, enjoying it all. He hugged Penelope close to him, inhaling the fresh smell of her hair and skin. Even without makeup, Penelope was a beautiful woman. Today, she looked so natural, with sparkling tawny eyes, cheeks flushed from the cold, and rosy lips that gleamed with a swipe of lip gloss.
The effect she had on him simply wasn’t fair. All she had to do was roll out of bed, and he would fall at her feet. But he loved seeing her dressed up as well. Glancing down at her jeans and tattered parka, he said, “We’ve got to get some new winter gear for you.”
Penelope ran her hands over the brown parka and baggy jeans. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Aside from those being ancient jeans and my mother’s grungy gardening jacket from twenty years ago, nothing. You can use that to go fishing in with me later on.” He stopped in front of a boutique that had skiing outfits and winter fashions in the windows. “Come on, let’s go in.”
They stepped inside, and Stefan set to work on choosing new outfits for her. “Just think of me as your new stylist,” he said, handing a load of clothing to a sales associate to put in a dressing room for Penelope. “Come on, indulge me. It’s not like I can go tearing down the mountain with you, though I’d like to. Might as well get your gear ready for the next time we come to Mammoth.”
Penelope sorted through what he had chosen for her. “A lot of these ski outfits are more runway than survival-gear style, and isn’t that what I really need with you?”
“Oh, I’m not done with you,” he said, dragging his lips across her neck. He hadn’t even started. Though his physician had outlawed any vigorous activity—including sex—that didn’t mean he and Penelope hadn’t had their share of romance the past few days. “Just wait until I take you to Cabela’s.”
“I’ve done my share of damage there, too,” she said, choosing a Bogner jacket to try on.
The insulated red jacket with a fur-lined hood had curvy stitched designs on it, along with delicately embroidered yellow and lavender flowers.
“Wow, you’ve got to take that one,” he said. She looked amazing in anything she put on, but she was a professional. “It looks hot with your purple hair.”
“It might not stay like this for long, though it has been one of my favorite fun colors.”
Penelope ran her hands along the jacket sleeves. “It’s beautifully made, and I love it.” She picked up an ebony and taupe puffy jacket that also looked good on her, and then she chose insulated pants to match.
While she was changing, Stefan checked his messages, stymied with the slowing progress of Penelope’s case. Frowning, he put his phone away, instead turning his attention to selecting sweaters, gloves, and boots for Penelope, along with a few pairs of lined pants and thermal jackets that she could wear any time. She emerged in a new lavender sweater with a dark purple jacket and insulated stretch pants tucked into boots.
“Wow,” he said, his spirits lifted. He nodded to the salesperson. “Add that, too.”
After depositing their packages in the SUV, Stefan suggested they take the gondola up the mountain and have lunch at the restaurant near the top where the view was astounding.
Inside the gondola, it was warm and packed with happy skiers and snowboarders chattering about their exciting morning ski runs. After they stepped out of the gondola, Stefan paused on the platform side of the restaurant.
He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with crisp mountain air. “This is the life, Penelope. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” He hugged her close and then they went inside the restaurant.
The restaurant had floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the entire glittering, white-capped mountain range. Skiers glided past on groomed slopes, while snowboarders tackled a challenging course mid-mountain. It was a winter wonderland at play, and he loved it. It was going to be a great season, and he couldn’t wait to get up on skis again—next time, with Penelope at his side. He loved her athleticism, fearlessness, and quick wit. He’d never met another woman like her.
Gazing out, he thought of what it would take to safeguard her if the shooter weren’t found, or the digital tracking dried up. That wasn’t an option, he told himself, determined to do what it took to solve the case and give Penelope her freedom again.
He opened the menu and perused the selections before setting it aside. A waiter stopped by their table. Stefan leaned forward and said, “Would you tell Eduardo that Stefan’s here.”
“Who’s Eduardo?” Penelope asked.
“A friend of mine I ski with sometimes. He’s a great chef, too, and always makes something special for me.”
They chatted, and a few minutes later, Eduardo emerged wearing a white chef’s jacket.
“Stefan, heard you had some trouble on the mountain last week. Looks like your head met something harder than it is.” Eduardo grinned and held out his hand to Penelope. “Is this the angel who rescued you?”
“Sure is. I’d like you to meet Penelope.” If Eduardo recognized her, he didn’t give any indication of it.
Eduardo was a tall, dark-haired, good-looking man who’d been happily married for years. Stefan often envied Eduardo and his handsome family, including a lovely wife who’d won an Olympic silver medal for women’s downhill skiing and three teenaged boys who’d learned to ski when they were toddlers. During the week, Stefan sometimes skied with the entire family if he wasn’t working.
He dreamed of a life like Eduardo had—with Penelope, he hoped. For the first time in years, he was looking forward to building a life with a woman he loved, and it felt good.
“Any dietary requirements?” Eduardo asked Penelope.
“As long as it’s healthy and delicious, I’ll eat anything,” she replied.
“Penelope travels all over the world. Surprise us,” Stefan said, sliding his hand over Penelope’s. He felt as though his life was finally correcting itself, like a ship that had veered off course in a terrible hurricane and was now finding its true course again. A little battered, but with a lot of voyages yet to be had.
After Edwardo left, Stefan listened to Penelope as she hashed out new career ideas. She was one of the smartest women he knew—and he knew a lot of brilliant female attorneys who were a heck of a lot smarter than he was. He could listen to her talk forever and hoped he’d be so lucky. After blowing it once with her, he never wanted to take that chance again.
Penelope was talking about a new idea for a television series, one that was radically different from the one she’d previously pitched.
“Just look around us,” she said. “Look at the people here from all over the world having a great time. When I travel, one of my favorite things to do is to find little shops where they’re still making clothes as they did a hundred years ago in that area. Beautiful handiwork that automated factories simply can’t match.”
She stopped and pulled a violet-colored scarf from her purse. “Look at this scarf I picked up in a little village in Italy. See how fine the needlework is? It’s hard to find this anywhere outside of that region in Italy.”
“That’s incredibly detailed work,” he said, inspecting the scarf. “So, what’s your idea?”
“I want to be the Anthony Bourdain of fashion travel. What he was to local food, I want to be to local fashion. I want to share the world’s most beautiful saris and show women how to wrap them, or wear the most incredible Peruvian sweaters made from the warmest Alpaca wool.”
Stefan loved watching Penelope becoming excited. He could feel her passion for her craft. “That sounds like a fascinating idea.”
“And I think it will sell. At first, I thought I wanted to be on a closed set for security reasons. But I’m not going to let one crazed guy determine what I do with my life.” She sat back, resolute in her idea. “While you’ve been sleeping, I’ve been talking to potential backers, and I’m pretty sure I can raise the money to produce this. Aimee Winterhaus has already committed to a feature story in Fashion News Daily if I launch this. It has international appeal, so I believe it can play in international markets quite well.”
“What’s your specific angle?”
“I’m interested in traditional fashion and how it’s worn today, and the iconic women from each country who’ve worn it the best. Lots of designers borrow ethnic looks for their collections. I want to take the camera out and talk to the people who actually create those looks in each country.”
“Sounds like half-travel log and half-fashion show.”
“That’s right,” Penelope said, her face lighting up. “I want to have casual dinners with local artisans, eating local food in charming places and hear them talking about their craft. I’ll take the camera into the workrooms, where highly skilled workers practice.”
“You might need a bodyguard in some of those places,” he said. “I think I can arrange that part of it.”
She dipped her head and smiled. “Many times it will probably be groups of women gathered in someone’s home to do piece work. That will be fascinating, too. I think other women will love seeing fashion and how it’s created and worn all over the world.”
“You could call it Global Get-ups.”
She poked him in the ribs, chuckling at his silliness. “Something like that. I have the concept, but I haven’t thought of a title yet. And this time, Aimee Winterhaus has recommended someone in development who really understands and appreciates the concept.” She leaned back in satisfaction.
He couldn’t be more proud of her in this moment. Here was a woman who’d been knocked down—and hard. Her career decimated, hounded by the media, a deranged fan out for blood. Yet she was forging on, drawing on her creativity to create the life she wanted—and deserved to have. If she chose him to be by her side forever, he’d be the happiest man in the world.
When a waiter brought Eduardo’s creative dishes to the table, Penelope’s eyes widened at vegetables with couscous, pink salmon cooked on a cedar plank, and raspberry and blueberry sauces. “Smells fabulous,” she said, touching the tip of her spoon to the sauces. “Oh, these are spectacular.”
The aromas swirling around his nose, he gazed over the savory food at Penelope, his gut tightening with desire. He was very nearly the most satisfied man in the world, too.
She looked so happy and they were having such a wonderful time that he dreaded telling her about what he’d learned from the private cyber investigator he’d hired in New York. The evidence was piling up, and soon he thought it would point in a clear direction.