Page 71 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

“I do.” He pointed to the basket. “See? I ordered way more than one croissant.”

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Marit stood beside Lars, holding his hand as they waited for Cole to open the door to the flat and for him and Isabelle to enter ahead of them.

“Okay,” Cole called a few seconds later. “Come on in.”

“One day, I’ll be able to enter my flat without worrying whether someone else has gone in before me, right?” Marit asked. After a full day of rehearsals, it was a challenge to keep the weariness out of her voice.

“Yes,” Lars said firmly. “And if Cole and I have anything to do with it, that ‘one day’ will be very soon.”

She waited until he’d closed the door behind them. “Did you learn anything at the restaurant?”

“Enough to know that LaRue is in a pretty tight spot financially, and his new line needs to be really well-received if he’s going to make it out intact.”

“Did he say anything about Ralph’s designs?” Isabelle asked, setting her purse on the floor and entering the conversation as she dropped onto the sofa.

“Not directly,” Lars said. “But he talked about surprising people with his designs at the show.”

Cole sat next to Isabelle and put his arm across her shoulders. “I wish he’d given away more, but he said enough to keep him at the top of our suspect list.”

“I wish that meant I could skip working all the other shows but his.” Isabelle took off her shoes and grimaced. “I’m not sure what I’m most worried about: messing up in front of an army of photographers or destroying my feet forever.”

“I’m afraid blisters come with the job,” Marit said, rooting through her purse for her container of plasters. “Here.” She handed them to Isabelle. “I’ve been modeling so long my feet have become calloused. I don’t get nearly as many blisters as I used to, but I still keep these on hand.”

“What are they?” Cole asked.

Isabelle showed him the small box. “Stretchy Band-Aids.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “How about you put those on and then I give you a foot rub? I can avoid any areas that are covered.”

Isabelle leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “You’re the best,” she whispered.

Lars drew Marit into his arms. “What are the chances that I would get a kiss if I offered to rub your feet?”

Laughing softly, Marit slid her arms around his neck. “High. So, so high.” She looked up at him, her heartbeat quickening at the look in his eyes. “Although, you might get one just for walking me home from rehearsal this evening.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” he said.

“You were, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Without another word, he lowered his lips to hers, and for several seconds, she lost herself in the wonder of loving this man—of being loved by him.

Then Cole’s voice reached her from the sofa.

“Seriously, guys?”

Reluctantly, she drew back. Lars continued to hold her, the moment they’d shared lingering even though they could not call back the kiss.

“And here I thought his tricking me into eating spinach this morning was bad,” Lars muttered.

Marit smiled. “You ate spinach?”

“Half a leaf, at most,” Cole said. “He left the rest on the side of the plate.”

Isabelle looked from Cole to Lars. “Was this at the fancy restaurant you went to for brunch?”

“Yeah,” Lars said. “And the spinach tasted the same as it always does. It was just more expensive.”

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