Page 56 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

“I just want to poke around his office a bit,” Cole said innocently. He really did have that look down.

“Peter Wade is not going to invite you into his office,” Marit said. “And he certainly won’t leave you alone to let you search for whatever might show his guilt.”

“I wasn’t planning to ask for an invitation.” Cole released Isabelle’s left foot and moved on to massage her right.

Lars’s eyes widened. “You’re going to break in?”

“I’m just going to take a look around.”

Lars shook his head. “Please don’t tell me I’ll need to bail you out again.”

“You didn’t have to bail me out last time,” Cole said. “You just gave me a ride home from the police station.”

“Same thing.” Lars took another bite of his sandwich, melted cheese oozing from the size of it.

Cole pressed on a particularly tight spot on the ball of Isabelle’s foot, and she flexed her foot to give him better access. He was definitely winning serious brownie points right now. Despite that, Isabelle couldn’t disagree with Lars. “Lars may be right on this one,” she said gently. “None of us can afford to have you end up in jail right now.”

Cole released her foot and stood. He moved to her side and leaned down to kiss her. His lips only touched hers for a moment, but it was enough to send the familiar warmth and love rushing through her. He leaned back and smiled. “I’m not going to get caught.”

***

Lars set down the remains of his meal and glanced at Marit. She smiled at him, but there was no mistaking the tiredness in her eyes and the slight droop to her shoulders that spoke of the pressure she’d been under this week. He reached for her hand, anger at the person responsible for sending men to assault her rippling through him. Fashion Week was taxing enough for a model of Marit’s caliber without adding an additional fear factor. Along with that, he and Marit were together in Paris, and instead of strolling hand in hand through a quaint outdoor market or spending a romantic evening at an elegant restaurant, they were holed up in a tiny hotel room, eating boxed salads. It was time to do something about it.

“Want to go somewhere new?” he asked softly.

She gave him a startled look. “Do you think we can? I’m not sure that I’m ready to test my self-defense skills on anyone but Cole.”

“We can,” he said firmly. “And you’re going to be completely safe.” He pulled her to her feet. “Put on your coat and give me one second to grab mine.”

That caught Cole’s attention. “Are you two going out?”

“Yes and no,” Lars said, taking his coat out of the tiny closet.

“Try that again,” Cole said with a frown.

“Yes, we’re going outside,” Lars said. “No, we’re not going to be on the dark streets, where the bad guys hang out.”

“Until we know who’s behind the attacks on Marit, it’s probably unwise to go anywhere farther than our building,” Isabelle said.

“Agreed.” Lars reached for Marit’s hand again. “We won’t leave the hotel.”

Cole folded his arms. “But you’re going out?”

Lars released a sigh. Given their current situation, it had been a forlorn hope that he could have any significant time alone with Marit, but he was not giving up on claiming a moment or two.

“We’re going onto the hotel roof,” he said. “When I was acting as your lookout at Bianchi’s hotel, I noticed a sign advertising a rooftop bar, so when we got back here, I asked at the front desk to see if they have anything similar.” He shrugged. “They don’t. But they do have roof access, and when I told the clerk that I was a photographer and wanted to get shots of the Parisian skyline, she gave me the code to the outside door. I checked it out earlier. By daylight, it’s half a dozen outdoor chairs and a small, rickety table sitting on a large patch of gray roofing material. I’m hoping that by night, it’s a quiet getaway with a view of the city all lit up.”

“Sounds great,” Cole said, reaching for his and Isabelle’s coats.

“Actually, you weren’t invited.”

Cole grinned. “I know. But for security’s sake, I should check it out. And I’m not leaving Isabelle here on her own.”

Lars gave him a long-suffering look. “I’ll give you the key code on two conditions.” He held up one finger. “First, the roof is to be a no-talk-of-work-or-pending-danger zone.” He held up another finger. “And second, you and Isabelle must hang out far enough from me and Marit that I can pretend I’m alone with my girlfriend.”

Humor shone in Cole’s eyes. “On the assumption that my security sweep finds the rooftop clear, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

It took Cole less than a minute to scour the hotel rooftop and declare it safe. “It’s a bit breezy up here,” he said, “but Lars was right: the views are amazing.”

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