He showed her the satin box. “Just a guess, but I think this was intended for you instead of me.”

Inside were four very expensive perfumes: Hermès’s 24 Faubourg, Dior’s Balade Sauvage, a limited edition of Chanel’s N°5, and Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry. She picked up the card. “Rupert,” she said with a sigh. “And most perfume gives me a headache.”

“Exactly the same thing your Rupert does to me. Don’t you think this is getting out of hand?”

“Opera aficionados are different from other kinds of fans.” She took the box and carried it to her room. “There are going to be some very happy hotel housekeepers tomorrow.”

He shook his head and went into his bedroom, but as he began to kick off his shoes, he noticed that the shoulder bag he used as a carry-on was unzipped. The bag held his usual crap: a couple of books, headset, a spare pair of sunglasses, and his laptop. But now, the laptop, which he always kept in a separate compartment, was shoved in between a copy of a Jonathan Franzen novel he’d promised himself he’d read one day, and an account of the D-Day landings he was actually reading. He checked his suitcase and shaving kit. Neither seemed to have been disturbed.

He called the desk. As he suspected from the errant perfume delivery, the hotel had mixed up his and Olivia’s suites. Whoever had dug around in his case had assumed it belonged to her.

* * *

On their flight to Denver the next day, he mulled over the conversation he’d had with the hotel manager before they’d left. The bellman who’d delivered the perfume box was a longtime employee. The same for the housekeeper who’d serviced their floor. The manager declared them both above suspicion, and Thad didn’t argue. Housekeepers and employees with sticky fingers didn’t last long. Someone else had been in his room.

The video surveillance footage had proved useless thanks to a party that had been going on in another suite on the floor. Between the grainy video and the number of people coming and going, it was impossible to see anything useful. The manager tactfully suggested Thad might have inadvertently moved the things in his case without remembering he’d done it.

“Possible, I guess,” Thad had said. But it wasn’t possible. He liked keeping his travel case organized.

Not long before the plane was ready to land, he moved next to The Diva. “Since we don’t have to report for duty until Monday, do you have plans for Denver?”

“Sleep in, work out, eat salad.”

“Admirable, but I have a better idea. One of my teammates is lending me his house outside Breckenridge. It’s beautiful country, and if you want to come along, you can hike instead of being stuck on a hotel treadmill.”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Just me.”

“And baby boy’s afraid to be alone?”

“Now you’re making me feel bad.” The truth was, he didn’t want to be alone with himself right now, and he also didn’t want her where he couldn’t watch her.

She smiled and then sobered. “What’s this really about?”

“Don’t make me confess my insecurities all over again.”

“You have no insecurities. You’re the closest thing there is to a Greek god.”

“I’d be flattered if you sounded more impressed.”

“You know what they say. Pretty is as pretty does.”

He stifled a laugh.

She narrowed her beautiful eyes at him. “Is this about sex—which clearly isn’t going to happen—or are you still obsessing over Rupert?”

“Yes. Rupert, those letters, and that phone call. Also, someone got into my carry-on and, I suspect, your luggage. As for sex . . . Why are you so sure it’s not going to happen? A good-looking, sensitive guy like myself, and an overwrought opera singer like you . . . Seems possible.”

“Impossible. I’m too insecure to have an affair with a hot football player like yourself. I do hate the idea of being cooped up in a hotel for the weekend, though. More important, before she left, Mariel booked me into a spa for two nights.”

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

“Except this is a boot camp spa where they get you up at four in the morning for a ten-mile hike, then feed you nothing but radishes and water.”

“Mariel is a major pain in the ass.”

“It’s what happens to women who don’t eat.”

When Paisley found out what they had planned, she tried to wangle an invitation to join them, but Thad turned her down. “Who even knows if the place has Wi-Fi? It’s too big a risk.”

Henri wasn’t happy about his brand ambassadors slipping away from his watchful gaze, but after Thad reassured him they’d be back in time for their Monday morning commitments, Henri gave in with his customary good grace.

An hour later, Thad and The Diva were driving a rental car west toward Breckenridge.

* * *

His teammate’s multimillion-dollar, log-and-stone house had four different levels, a curved driveway, and big windows with sweeping mountain views. They unloaded the groceries they’d picked up on the way and changed clothes. When they reconvened in the kitchen, he couldn’t help but stare at her. “What’s wrong?” she said.

“You’re wearing jeans?”

“Who doesn’t wear jeans?”

“I don’t know. You?”

She laughed. “You’re an idiot.”

They borrowed heavy jackets and snow boots from the back of a closet and set off on a lower trail, hoping to avoid the deeper snow. Olivia had wrapped a warm scarf around her throat and pulled a headband over her ears. Her ponytail swung across her jacket collar as her breath clouded the air.

After their busy week, he didn’t feel the need to talk, and neither did she. He enjoyed listening to the crunch of snow under their boots, the wind ruffling the aspens, and the distant sound of a waterfall. As they reached a set of icy rocks, he held out his hand, but she ignored his help and navigated the rocks with the surefooted grace of an athlete. Taking into account all her dance and movement training, he supposed she was.

As the snow grew too deep to go on, they took their time gazing out over the mountain landscape. He couldn’t remember ever being with a woman so comfortable with silence—ironic, considering her profession—and he was the one who eventually broke it. “If you feel like cutting loose with one of your favorite arias, I’d be happy to listen.”