Read Online Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) by Celia Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B

have company.” He looked over his shoulder and up the hill toward them. No sooner had he done that than the cameras appeared from nowhere, and the skiers turned into paparazzi. “My god! They really are everywhere.”
    He quickly reacted. “We’d better go before they get too close and figure out you’re the woman from the casino. Do you think you can make a run for it? I know the fog is bad, but I’ll stay in front, and you can follow me.”
    “I’ll do my best.” And we were away.
    I had never skied at such a breakneck pace. Essentially, we pointed our skies downhill and accelerated at an alarming rate. I kept chanting to myself, “You can do it, nice and easy, you can do it.” All the while, I could hear the sounds of skis and cameras clicking behind us. People were shouting, “Des,” “Mr. Bannerman,” “Brynn”—anything they thought might get our attention. Fortunately, they seemed to be losing ground from the sound of things, which added to my confidence. Occasionally, Des threw looks at me over his shoulder and then focused on the mountain.
    I could see the sun beginning to break through the fog and hoped we were close to the bottom. My legs were starting to burn from the effort, and I really needed to go to the bathroom. “Keep going and think of something else,” I said out loud.
    We burst through the fog and could see the chairlifts not too far off. People were milling around, and a few looked up as we emerged from the clouds. I quickly scanned the distance for Tiziana, Hillary, Kathleen, Marian, and Ted. I couldn’t see them and was hoping that they had made it safely down.
    I was so busy looking around that I hadn’t noticed Des had slowed down. I plowed into him and knocked him over. We bounced around, sending ski equipment flying everywhere. By the time the world quit spinning, the paparazzi had caught up. “Oh, bugger,” my companion said between puffs of breath. I opened my eyes to see his beautiful blue eyes between me and the sky. I became aware of our limbs being entangled and his weight on top of me. Quickly fluttering through my mind was the realization that it had been some time since I had enjoyed that particular sensation.
    Suddenly, several unknown heads came into view, all with cameras disguising their faces. “Oh, bugger is right,” I muttered, quickly covering my face with my arms. The noise was horrific as people shouted at us, asking my name, calling for Des to look their way.
    “I’m sorry!” I shouted. I never got a response. Des hauled me up and led the way to a deluxe chalet, leaving our ski equipment scattered to the four corners of the world.
    ***
    I woke up the next day with the certainty of several things. My body hurt like hell from my tumble at the end of the run; I had caught a cold; I was probably on the cover of the tabloids again; and Des Bannerman would be staying well away from me and anyone linked to me.
    After lying in bed pondering the events of the last week, I heard a light rap on the door of my bedroom. “Come in,” I called. The door opened and four concerned faces peered in at me.
    “We thought we ought to bring the papers up, so you could get it over and done with,” Hillary explained, her voice apologetic.
    With a grimace, Kathleen added, “It would also seem that your fifteen minutes of fame aren’t over. We can’t see the forest for the paparazzi.”
    I took the papers and scanned the headlines. Through the grayish light of the gloomy sky, I made out one picture of Des and me entwined intimately. Another shot was a close-up of a very distraught Brynn. The worst was a photo of Des and Brynn boarding a private plane late last night, both looking very weary.
    I handed them to Kathleen and asked her to translate. The headline and photo captions inferred that we were so overcome with lust that we couldn’t take the time to return to our hotel room. Many articles pondered the state of the famous couple’s relationship, while others