Chapter SevenIf Anne had needed proof that she was in love, she found it on the ski slopes of Courmayeur. Because only a woman in love would be crazy enough to learn this ridiculous sport. Boots, bindings, skis, poles, thermal underwear, thermal waterproof pants, hats, goggles, inner gloves and outer mittens…she’d have needed less equipment to visit the International Space Station. She’d refused to give up her bulky parka and denied that ten degrees Celsius below freezing was merely nippy.
“Next time I lead an expedition, we’re going to Tahiti. At least it has the right number of syllables.”
“It what?” Zack slid to a neat stop and helped her once again rise from where she’d landed in a heap.
“Never mind.”
“Though you in a bikini I think is an excellent idea.”
“Not a chance, Mr. Vice P
