Fierce Passion (10 page)

He looked at her askance and scoffed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever impressed a girl with my character.”

His skeptical expression told her much more than he’d meant to. “Maybe you’ve met the wrong women.”

“You could say that.” He caught her hand before she could pull away. “I want to take you out, go places, do things. We don’t need to stay here.”

“Out,” she repeated softly. “I love holding hands in movies. Do you like that?”

“Of course. I still want to take you to the port.”

“That’s always fun. But we needn’t go anywhere until you’re better.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night. Let’s go to dinner again. Let me pick the place this time.”

“Do you know someplace quiet, out of the way? Someplace tourists never see. I want to be able to talk the way we did last Sunday.”

A slow smile slid across his lips. “Someplace romantic?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “If you like places with crowds and loud music, go with your male friends.”

“I don’t like crowds and loud music, and most of my friends are married now. We haven’t gone out looking for hookups with girls for a very long time.” He coaxed her onto his lap. “I love having you here, but I’m not some kid you have to blow each time you come in.”

She slid her fingers through the soft curls at his nape and widened her eyes in mock innocence. “You didn’t like it?”

“A dead man would have liked it, but I don’t want to stop there.” He kissed the line of her jaw, sucked her earlobe to make her giggle and gave her a long, slow kiss. “I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Later.”

“Will you tell me where you live so I can pick you up at your place?”

She rubbed her forehead against his. It was such a simple request and so natural a step she couldn’t say no. She could substitute Miro prints for her framed magazine covers and welcome him in. “I’ll give you my address when I leave. I’ll meet you downstairs and invite you to come in and see the kittens after dinner.”

“Fine.” He ran his tongue over her lower lip. “I’ve been dying to see the kittens.”

She laughed into his kiss. Everything about him felt good. She bet he had been gangly and awkward when he was a kid, but he’d definitely outgrown it. She ended the kiss to catch a breath. “I wanted to be ballerina. I actually had the talent, but by twelve, I was too tall. It was a huge disappointment.”

“I know disappointment.” He kissed her throat and unbuttoned the top button on her shirt and then the second. She had on lacy ecru lingerie, and he sat back as he unbuttoned the last buttons and eased her out of the shirt. “You have the most beautiful underwear.”

“And not a single pair of black boxers,” she teased. “I think we should go back to the futon before you fall over backwards and dump us both on the floor. I don’t want to see you hurt any worse than you already are.”

“Good plan.” He eased her off his lap and stood. “Maybe if I went very slowly, we could go up on the loft.”

She kicked off her flats. “Why don’t you save your energy? We can climb up there the next time I’m here.”

“You so sure I’ll invite you back?” He pulled his shirt off over his head.

She peeled off her jeans and rolled them up to set aside. “You better, or I’ll leave the kittens on your doorstep.”

“You’re threatening me with kittens?” He caught her hand and spun her around so he could unfasten her bra. He slid off her thong and stared at her heart-shaped pubic curls. “Do you change the shape with the seasons?”

She unbuttoned his shorts. “I rather like the heart, but I suppose I could turn it into a little house just for you.”

He laughed so hard he nearly tripped taking off his shorts. “I’ve never inspired that level of devotion in anyone.”

“Don’t gloat. You haven’t inspired it yet.”

“I’ll regard it as a challenge,” he growled against her throat as he eased her down on the futon. “You have the most beautiful skin.” He kissed the inside of her elbows and sucked lightly at her breasts. Clean-shaven, he rubbed his cheek against her delicate nipples without leaving a scratch. He licked her belly button to make her giggle and then slid his fingers into her. He stretched out to kiss her inner thighs. “You smell so good. Do you put perfume behind your knees?”

“It works, doesn’t it?” She slid her fingers through his hair.

“Everything works with you.” He twisted two fingers inside her and licked her slit, teasing her open with the tip of his tongue. “Am I doing all right?”

Ana opened her eyes and smiled. “You’re doing beautifully, but you can’t stop until I tell you to.”

“Is that one of your rules?” He stroked her with his thumb.

“One of them. You’ve created the most delicious ache.” She placed her hand over his. “I like your mouth better.”

He drew in a deep breath, and licked her until she writhed beneath him and thanked him with a soft sigh. He pulled on the condom he’d had ready and thrust into her slowly. “You’ve such a glorious heat, like bubbling honey.”

Raising her arms above her head, she thanked him through a breathy sigh. He taunted her with deep thrusts and carried her into another shuddering release. When he buried his face in her hair, she wrapped him in her arms and held him tight as though she’d never let him go.

Chapter Five

Alejandro got up during the night and found a blanket to cover them, but Ana slept too deeply to stir. They remained in a blissful tangle until dawn, and she awoke still smiling. She eased herself out of his arms, dressed and, as promised, wrote her address and phone number on her placemat. Before leaving his studio, she took several photos of him hugging the twisted blanket as tightly as he’d held her. She left quietly and drove herself home. Fatima arrived soon after she’d left the shower.

“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?”