by Phoebe Conn
“How was your date?” the housekeeper asked.
Ana’s smile said it all. “We had a wonderful time. Thank you for suggesting I take him a sandwich. He was probably expecting some elegant French dish neither of us could pronounce, so something he recognized was a big plus.”
“Men are simple creatures,” Fatima advised. “Throw them a piece of red meat, and they’ll be happy for hours.”
“I’ll remember that. I need to call Cazares and see if he’s found Lamoreaux before he sends another pair of shoes.”
“I could use some new shoes,” Fatima remarked. “Maybe you could mention my size if you meet him.”
“It never hurts to ask for samples.” She called the detective from her room, and Javier Cazares supplied an update. “Lamoreaux divides his time between Barcelona and Paris. He’ll be here next week, and I suggest you have your agent call him to make an appointment.”
Ana took careful notes. “I’ve got it. Send me your bill.”
“I will, and Miss Santillan, I have some other and perhaps disturbing news.”
She shoved her still damp hair out of her eyes. “I’m afraid to ask what it is.”
“I saw a colleague yesterday, and while he wouldn’t disclose who’d hired him, he’s being paid to provide information about you.”
Alarmed, she sank down on the end of her bed. “What sort of information? My modeling jobs, or something personal?”
Cazares cleared his throat, but his voice remained hushed. “I believe a bit of both.”
“That isn’t good news. Could it be Lamoreaux?” she asked.
“It could be, but he wouldn’t say. He isn’t a friend of mine. We just happen to cross paths occasionally.”
“Would you describe him as ethical?”
Cazares delayed a moment too long. “I don’t recommend him.”
“Oh fine. I don’t lead a particularly exciting life, so he’ll probably soon grow bored with the job. Can you describe him?”
“He’s six feet tall and heavy set, bald, and he walks fast, as though he’s on his way to an important meeting. If you see him, pretend not to notice and go on with whatever you were doing. You’re not in danger, but be careful.”
“Thank you, I will be.” She glanced at her framed magazine covers and changed them for the Miro prints. It was a small precaution, but all she could handle right now.
That afternoon, her agent welcomed her with a cheerful smile. “Armand Levya wants you for a shoot on a cruise ship, the Mediterranean Goddess, this coming Monday morning. Bikinis, resort wear, that sort of thing. Meet him at the ad agency at seven, and you’ll all go from there.”
She made a note of the date on her cell phone. “Fine. Thank you.” She handed him Lamoreaux’s number in Paris and the brochure from his shop. “He sent me a magnificent pair of heels, so he must want me to model for him. Will you please call him while I’m here? I want to meet him before I agree to work for him.”
Paul nodded thoughtfully and called the Paris number. He spoke French as well as Spanish, Catalan and English. Ana had learned French to work with haute couture designers, and English merely for fun. He put the call on speaker. “Monsieur Lamoreaux, this is Paul Perez, Ana Santillan’s agent. She asked me to call and thank you for the beautiful pair of heels you sent to her.”
When Ana heard Lamoreaux’s soft-spoken reply, she whispered, “Find out why he sent me kittens.”
Paul raised his brows. “Monsieur Lamoreaux, why are you sending Ana presents?”
Ana and Paul exchanged puzzled glances, but Lamoreaux admitted only that he’d wanted to make a good impression on a woman he greatly admired. Women loved flowers and kittens, so they were appropriate gifts, and he hoped he’d made her curious about him. He’d be in Barcelona the following week and wanted to discuss the advertising for his new line.
“Let’s meet in my office on Tuesday at one.” Paul gave him the address and directions. He ended the call and shook his head. “Let’s face it, he adores your legs.”
“Many of the designers are eccentric,” Ana mused aloud. “Lamoreaux seems like the typical Frenchman. He’ll dote on a woman, swiftly grow bored and look elsewhere for someone new.”
“Many Spanish men suffer from the same failing, but if he doesn’t impress us next week, you needn’t work with him. Your skin has such a pretty glow. You must have had a very good time in Palma, or did you spend a day at a spa?”
Any color she had today would have come from Alejandro’s lavish affection, and she blushed rather than give him credit. “We worked outdoors so it must be from the sea breeze and sunshine. Have you received the script from Ignacio Belmonte?”
“Not yet, but if it isn’t here in the next couple of days, I’ll call him.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, but go ahead. It shouldn’t take more than an afternoon to film the part I read, so it isn’t a big time commitment.” They checked the work she had coming up and parted on a better note than they had the last time.
Ana surveyed her closet with the same exasperated sigh as she had last weekend. She wanted to look pretty, but not so pretty other people noticed. She decided upon a short green dress that matched her eyes. People recognized her from her long blonde hair, and she twisted it into a bun at her nape in the hope she wouldn’t be noticed. She loved bracelets, loaded both wrists with silver and gold bangles, and finished with gold hoop earrings. She had dozens of pairs of heels and chose a tan wedged pair with ankle ties. All she’d need tonight was a small clutch and light sweater.
She went downstairs ten minutes before Alejandro was set to arrive, and Jacob was on duty. “How is your school going?” she asked him.
“Good. Thank you for asking, Miss Santillan.”
She paused, uncertain whether she should ask him not to use her last name as she left for the evening, or when she came home. He’d think her daft, of course, and she didn’t want to lure him into the gigantic secret she’d kept from Alejandro. She turned away from the desk and waited near the door. When Alejandro drove up in a black Mercedes SUV, she went outside to meet him.
He came around the car to open her door. “I have to haul stuff all the time. I hope you don’t mind riding in this.”
The car was spotless and the interior freshly vacuumed. “Why would I mind? Don’t all architects drive trucks or SUVs?”
He got into the driver’s seat and leaned over to kiss her. “They do, but this isn’t the car for a romantic evening, and I apologize.”
While he worried about his car, she just wanted another remarkably pleasant time. “I love SUVs. The view of the road is so much better with the high seats.” It was so good she noticed the bald man in the dark sedan parked across the street. He hurriedly lowered a camera when she glanced his way, but she’d seen it.
“Why are you so quiet tonight?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. I should have prepared a list of conversation topics, but I was too busy today.”
He laughed and reached over to pinch her knee. “What were you doing?”
“Just Saturday stuff, nothing interesting. What about you?”
“I felt good enough to ride my bike, but I took it out of town so I didn’t have to worry about landing on a curb again.”
“I’ve never learned to ride a bike. Do they make adult bikes with training wheels?”
“I’ve never seen one. Let’s rent a tandem bike. I’ll do all the work, and you can ride.”
“I wouldn’t want to plan a tour of Europe, but for an afternoon, it sounds fun. It really does.” She’d done sportswear ads holding a bike, but growing up, she hadn’t done much of the physical stuff other kids had. “I don’t know how to play soccer either. Do you like it?”
“Sure, I played when I was a kid. I can teach you that too.”
She’d never missed soccer but would love to have him teach her. He’d obviously earned his lean, athletic build, but he didn’t sound as though he expected her to keep up with him. He took her to a quiet place where thei
r table overlooked the port. “There are so many lights, it looks like noon,” she exclaimed.
“The work goes on twenty-four hours a day. So there’s plenty to see day or night. They have an excellent Parrillada de Mariscos here. Do you ever eat seafood?”
“Sometimes.”
“Order whatever you like, Ana. I never talk about money, but I can afford to do whatever you like.”
She’d rather not think about money, especially where he was concerned. She chose the Amanida, a salad with shellfish, and reached across the table for his hand. “Your company is enough excitement for tonight.”
The woman at a nearby table kept glancing her way. People often asked for her autograph, and if this woman approached her, she’d have to deny who she was, or tell Alejandro the whole truth. Her appetite vanished with a soft thud.
The waiter approached, and she dipped her head to look out at the port until Alejandro had given their order and the man had turned away to bring their wine. “I’ve always wanted to go sailing on a clipper ship. There are a few left, aren’t there?”
“Yes, there are. But it must be backbreaking work, rather than as romantic as movies make it appear. Almost nothing is real in movies anymore—but you must know that.”
“I do.” The woman who’d been observing her so closely was talking with her companion and had apparently decided Ana wasn’t worth observing after all. Relieved, Ana talked easily about movies and music while they ate. They didn’t like all the same things, but nothing they differed on mattered.
“I’ve waited a long time to meet you,” he admitted. “I don’t want to frighten you. If you only want to see me once a week, I’ll have to manage.”
He was such an open man and obviously unfamiliar with romantic games. “It’s good not to overdose on someone new,” she offered. “But I’m sure we can work out something without having to block out days on a calendar. Is the crema catalana good here?”
He studied her expression a long moment. “We’re going to be sensible, is that it? Fine. The crema catalana is superb. Do you want some?”
She played with a strand that had escaped her bun. “Yes, please. Fatima makes it for me sometimes.”
He signaled the waiter and ordered two. “Will Fatima be there when I take you home?”
“She doesn’t work on weekends, and she’s never there at night, but I hope you’ll meet her soon. She’s a wonderful cook, and crema catalana is easy for her. I’ve tried to make it, but the custard is never rich enough, and I’ve yet to discover the secret to grilling the sugar topping perfectly.”
He leaned back as the waiter brought their desserts. “There’s a secret to everything.”
His seductive glance made it plain he wasn’t thinking of recipes, and she nodded. “Often multiple secrets, but it makes life exciting, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.”
Ana looked for the bald man as they left the restaurant, but didn’t see him, and they weren’t followed to her place. They parked on the street and held hands as they went through the main doors of her condo. Jacob was on the phone, speaking to a resident about a take-out delivery, and Ana waved and hurried Alejandro to the elevators. When they reached her floor, he took her key to unlock her door and opened it slowly.
“Where are the kittens?”
“I banish them to the guest bathroom when I go out. I’ll get them if you’d really like to see them.”
“Of course I want to see them. This is a beautiful place, but it doesn’t look like you.”
She grabbed a pillow from the sofa and threw it at him. “I’ve lived here for years, and it’s exactly what I want. I work in stark modern sets all the time. This is as peaceful as it comes, pretty and comfortable, even if it isn’t the latest in home design.”
“You should decorate your home the way you please,” he agreed. “I expected something more in the Goth tradition.”
She pulled the pins from her hair and shook it loose. “Stone walls, wooden benches and flickering candles? That doesn’t sound very homey.” She let the kittens out, and they chased her back to the living room. “Juliet is the black one. So far, Romeo has shown more personality.”
Alejandro loosened his tie, pulled it off and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Do they sleep with you?”
She shook her head. “Sorry if it disappoints you, but no. Would you like coffee or tea, wine, a glass of water?”
He shook his head and came toward her. He caught her waist and tilted her head to kiss her with a gentle sweetness, and with her encouragement, he became increasingly insistent. “You always taste so good.”
“So do you. Let me take your coat.”
He shrugged out of it. “Have you ever been to a nudist colony?”
She laughed and stepped back. “No, and I’m not going. Do you like them?”
“I’ve never been either, but I spend so much time with you taking off and putting on my clothes, it might be fun to try one.”
She unbuttoned his shirt. “I believe the idea is to enjoy the tranquility of nature, not to more easily ravish your partner.”
“I’ve completely misunderstood the purpose, then.” He took her shoulders to turn her around and unzipped her dress. She’d worn turquoise lingerie tonight. “You must have an endless supply of lingerie, and this is a cute dress. You have such beautiful legs, you ought to show them off with short dresses all the time.” He knelt to untie her shoes and slipped them from her feet. Her toenails were painted a bright pink.
“Thank you. I have my own dance studio here, and dancing is the perfect exercise.”
“May I see it?”
“It’s the second bedroom. If anyone comes to visit, the living room sofa makes a bed.”
He followed her down the hallway. When she opened the door, the first thing he saw was the mirrored wall. “Do you ever make love in here?”
She had, but shook her head. “I’m discreet, remember? No one will ever hear what you and I do.” There was a straight-backed chair in the corner, and she pulled it out into the center of the room with the seat facing the mirror. She took hold of the back. “Does this give you any ideas?”
He walked up behind her and studied their reflections in the mirror. He unfastened her bra, let it drop to the chair and cupped her breasts. He rolled her nipples into tight buds. “You slip out of your clothes so easily. You ought to give me a head start.”
She covered his hands with her own. Her skin was a creamy peach, while his was deeply tanned. “Just unzip your pants.”
He kissed her shoulder. “No short cuts. I want to feel your bare skin against mine.”
“You started this, but I didn’t mean to rush you.” Romeo dashed into the room and sped out while Juliet lay down by the door to watch. “We have an audience, although she’s discreet too.”
He let her go and circled the chair to sit down and remove his shoes. “Good, but I’m taking you first.”
She kneaded his shoulders and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “There are hooks along the wall for your clothes.” Her ballet slippers dangled from the first hook, and she had tutus in the closet. Not thinking they’d use the room, she’d stacked the framed magazine covers in the closet too. She’d have to keep him too busy to look.
Once undressed, he came to stand behind her and ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. “I’ll bet you were a gorgeous child.”
“All people saw was my hair.” She dipped her head to let it spill over her breasts. “I was lucky, though, I liked being tall and didn’t care that much for boys when they were too short to dance with me.”
He kissed her nape with teasing nibbles. “I was born tall. We should have met sooner.”
She leaned back to rub her shoulders against his hair-roughened chest. “Maybe we wouldn’t have appreciated each other until now.”
“I’m sure I’d have appreciated you.”
She studied him in the mirror. He ran his hands over her hips and up between her legs to pull away the
thong. Their reflections magnified the thrill of his slow caresses, and she leaned into him.
“Oh damn.” He left her to get a condom from his pants pocket. “Hold this for me so I can touch you.”
She placed a kiss in his palm before she took it. “Let’s put on some music.” She turned on a romantic piece she loved for dancing and swayed as she returned to him. “Do you like to dance?”
He shrugged. “I’m not very good at it.”
“I’ll teach you after I learn to ride a bike.” She looped her arms around his neck and pulled his lower lip gently through her teeth. When she turned back to the chair, he leaned over her, wrapped his arms around her waist and slid his fingertips through the soft heart on her mound. Her moisture smoothed every stroke.
The mirror gave her a provocative view, and the luscious music swirled around them to create an exotic rendezvous. Craving his intimate touch, she relaxed against him and pretended they were floating in the sea. When he asked for the condom, she’d forgotten it lay in her hand.
He used it, bent his knees to ease into her, and, braced against the chair, she pushed back to take him deep. He swirled her hair around his wrist to lift her head and kissed her. He rocked her slowly, diving in and pulling back with a heartbeat’s steady rhythm. She watched him in the mirror. With his ebony hair, he could have been another of her lovers, but she wouldn’t let memory blur his image. He was always so gentle, as though he feared she’d break, and she loved his lazy loving. He coaxed her with a deep thrust only to withdraw and pleasure her with his hand. She hung on to the chair and closed her eyes to simply feel without the distracting view.
He made her so warm her whole body felt slippery. She was so close, teetering on the rim, and then tensed as with another thrust, he sent a searing orgasm jolting through her. She felt his body throb deep within hers and savored the thrill until only the chair kept her standing. When he picked her up and carried her into her bedroom, she was amazed he still had the strength to lift her.
