Fierce Passion (15 page)

“If I don’t feel like moving?” Widening his stance, he took up more of the sidewalk.

Alejandro’s voice was low and utterly convincing. “You’ll swiftly regret it.”

The owner of the kiosk came out to offer his opinion. “I don’t need anyone disrupting my business. Both of you move along.”

Alejandro tipped the kiosk owner and stayed put while the bald man paid for his magazine and walked away with a hurried step. The newsman straightened the stacks of tabloids. He pointed to the one with the pseudo Ana. “What do you think of this? Beautiful women are as deadly as cobras, but would a model kill a man over a bad photo?”

“No,” Alejandro assured him. “Ana Santillan doesn’t know a thing about the photographer’s murder. The tabloids are smearing her name to sell papers.”

“You know her?” the man asked skeptically.

Alejandro nodded and returned to the shop where Ana had bought a glass-domed paperweight containing shells from a Barcelona beach. “I don’t have nearly enough souvenirs from Barcelona. What do you think?”

He picked it up and found it surprisingly heavy. “It will definitely hold papers on your desk.”

“That’s what I thought.” She dropped it into her bag. “What did you say to the detective?”

“I growled at him, and he walked away. I’ll have my father fire him. You have enough trouble without being followed by some idiot who’s so easy to spot. Are you hungry?”

Ana suggested the place he’d taken her earlier. Alejandro took her hand and led the way. He knew the port better than any other part of the beautiful city, and they were there in minutes. The hostess smiled at him as they entered but looked surprised when she saw Ana in her Goth disguise. Alejandro pretended not to notice.

When they’d made themselves comfortable in a booth by the windows, Ana leaned close. “Did you see the way the hostess looked at you? She must think you’re cheating on the blonde you were with the other night.”

“She can think whatever she wants. If you own a red wig, we could confuse her even more the next time we’re here.”

“I do have a red wig.” Ana looked for something new on the menu. “One of the detectives who came to see me had strange, fishy blue eyes, and even if I don’t usually order fish, I won’t order it today because of him.”

“I wish you’d stop worrying about them. Campos must have photographed hundreds of models. Maybe his death had nothing to do with any of you. He could have been killed by someone he owed money.”

She rubbed her toe up his calf and watched him jump. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Do it again.”

“It has to be done when you’re not expecting it.” She ordered a raw vegetable salad and limeade and leaned back to study the view of the busy port in daylight. “I wonder how many people are murdered a day in Barcelona.”

“I hope it’s not many. Rather than look at the ship, let’s find a movie after we eat, something funny.”

The waiter returned with her limeade and his beer. She took a long drink. “I might have a part in an Almodóvar film. It’s just a few lines, but I don’t want you to be surprised if you see me on the screen.”

“He’s a remarkable director, but you don’t sound excited. Why not?”

She described the audition with Gian Carlo. “Models usually aren’t that good on the screen. Thank goodness it’s such a small part I won’t be mentioned in the reviews.”

He studied her expression a long moment. “You don’t smile often in your Goth outfit; you seem to sink into her. You should do fine with a scripted part.”

The buttons on her black shirt were silver skulls. She polished one with her napkin. “I’m sorry, I’m sort of unfocused today. I often work long hours, and when I’m free, I like to go out to lunch and to movies, but I have a very bad feeling about that bogus photo. It just keeps whipping through my mind. I need to buy a notebook and write down where I am every minute of the day.”

He reached across the table to take her hand. “I’d also be alarmed if detectives had come to my studio. It doesn’t matter what they’ve been told to ask, or what ludicrous suspicions they might have. You didn’t murder anyone.”

“Innocence ought to be a strong defense,” she replied. “But I feel the floor tipping under me, and I can’t get my balance.”

“Listen to me.” His glance was as dark as she’d ever seen it. “You’re not the only model who worked with Campos. All of you are probably on edge, and justifiably so, but while it might be a good idea not to be seen laughing as though we had no concerns, there’s no reason to hide as though we’re guilty.”

His remark brought a smile. “I’m the one they’ve questioned, Alejandro, not you.”

He leaned back as the waiter served their lunch, and waited for him to leave. “It could have been a model’s boyfriend who didn’t like Campos’s photos.”

She raised her fingertip to her lips. “Don’t give the police any ideas they don’t already have and implicate yourself.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the others in the restaurant. No one seemed out of place. “We aren’t being watched.”

She shrugged. Just because they didn’t see anyone, didn’t mean someone wasn’t there.

Alejandro took Ana to an American comedy that was so silly they laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. She had to use the restroom to refresh her eyeliner and fluffed her black wig. She smiled as she rejoined him. “Thank you. That was so much fun, and I’d never have chosen it myself.”

He hugged her close. “I don’t laugh enough either. Let’s buy your notebook for your timeline and use it to make a list of things we ought to do.”

“Like ride a tandem bike?”

“Exactly.”

They found a stationery store and bought a small notebook to fit in Ana’s purse. Ready for a snack, they stopped at an outdoor café, and she doodled in the notebook’s margins. “We should learn to cook.”

“Both of us,” he agreed.

Ana’s cell phone chimed, and she checked the text message. “It’s my agent.” She frowned and dropped her phone into her purse. “My job for tomorrow has been cancelled. I’ve worked with the designer for years, but she gave Paul no reason why. Now I can add loss of work to the lawsuit. I’m afraid this is only the beginning.”

“Won’t there be other designers who’d want to hire you because of the controversy?”

“Probably, but they’re not the ones I usually work with.” Thoroughly depressed, she reached for his hand. “This has been a great day, but I need to go home. Just drop me off a block away, and I’ll go in the front door. No one saw me leave, so if any of the paparazzi are still lurking, they won’t notice me.”

He stood and helped her to her feet. Even in the Goth outfit, she had her usual grace. “I’ll help you any way I can.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’ll handle it.” She sounded as tough as she looked. When he dropped her off, she strolled through the front door of her condo with a lazy swagger and drew curious glances from the three remaining paparazzi, but none raised his camera to photograph her.

Alejandro went straight back to the port. His father’s office was in a high-rise building and had windows from floor to ceiling to provide a dazzling view of the harbor. “I’ve never understood your thinking. Why would you want me to stop seeing Ana Santillan and then try to hire her?”

Orlando leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his chest. “It’s always a pleasure to have you pay a surprise visit. Do sit down and stay awhile, but you needn’t concern yourself with promotions for the cruise line.”

“We’re talking about Ana. I care about her, and you need to leave her alone. Stop having us followed. I spoke to your detective today. Did he tell you? The brute would stand out in any crowd, and it’s easy to spot him.”

Orlando sat up. “Other than her looks, what about the woman appeals to you? You weren’t pleased to discover she’s a model, and you’re dating her again?”

It wasn’t her modeling career that had appalled him, but his sickening suspicion she’d used him for her own fun. He’d gotten over it. “Yes, and I’ll keep seeing her. Pay the detective for what little work he’s done and let him go.”

Orlando shrugged off the matter as unimportant. “He’s served his purpose.”

“In the future, if you want to know where I’m going or where I’ve been, call and ask.”

“Fine. Were you with Ana last Saturday night?”

Alejandro could see right where his father was going, but he wouldn’t lie. “Didn’t your detective provide a report? I was home studying.”

“Good. We can keep the Ortiz name out of the murder investigation, even if Ana Santillan is involved up to her beautiful neck.”

Alejandro stared at his father. He’d never struck the man, but he’d never been so sorely provoked. “She won’t be. On the remote chance she’s called in for questioning, I’ll go with her and pass out cruise brochures.”

Orlando laughed. “Your loyalty is touching. She was just playing with you until she learned who you are. You needn’t bother to wear cologne. Nothing smells better than wealth.”

Alejandro left without describing how he’d always thought his father smelled.

Fatima was hanging up her apron when Ana arrived home. “How was your day?”

Ana leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms over her chest. “Alejandro did wonders at distracting me, but my job for tomorrow was cancelled, and I’m worried I’ll lose other work.”

“Eggs stay fresh longer than most scandals last, and this will blow over soon. Your veggies are ready to steam, and the salad is in the bowl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night.” She noted the time she’d arrived home in her new notebook and took a quick shower rather than soak in a bubble bath. As she ate dinner, she began a list of reasons why Jaime Campos might have been murdered. All she succeeded in doing was frightening herself silly, and she called Alejandro.

“I never heard Jaime mention a wife or girlfriend or boyfriend, but aren’t most people murdered by someone they know?”

“I’ve heard it, but a lot of provocations could push someone to murder. Are you trying to outthink the detectives?”

She’d barely tasted the vegetables on her plate and hadn’t touched the salad. “It wouldn’t be difficult, but I can’t concentrate on anything else.”

“You should have come home with me.”

“Another time. Please help me think of reasons for Jaime’s murder.”

He was silent a long moment. “All right. He was a photographer. Could he have blackmailed someone, or photographed something he shouldn’t have seen?”

“A drug deal?” She made a quick notation.

“That’s possible, or a prominent man being with a woman who wasn’t his wife?”

She pushed her chair back from the table. “Millionaires who didn’t want to be seen discussing business together?” she added.

“Government figures plotting,” Alejandro offered. “There’s also an entirely different angle with photography. You refused to pose for nudes, but could he have been producing porn, or bondage and S&M photos that attracted the wrong kind of people?”

“I see where you’re going. Barcelona is a large commercial port, and it’s possible to buy almost anything here, isn’t it?”

“I’ve not looked, but yes, I suppose so. Call security and ask if the paparazzi are still out front.”

“Give me a minute.” She came back quickly. “They’re gone, and I told the night guard to expect you.”

“Is there anything you’d like me to bring?”

“Your company is all I need.”

Alejandro parked at the side of the condo building. He scanned the street, but nothing struck him as being out of place. As he entered the building, he paused at the security desk.

“Good evening, sir,” Juan greeted him.

“Miss Santillan is expecting me.”

“Sign in, please.”

Alejandro did. “Are you armed?”

Juan stepped back. “If I have to be, sir. We lock the entrance early and don’t admit anyone we don’t recognize, unless it’s an expected guest. We all take this job seriously.”

“Good. Thank you.” Alejandro walked to the elevators and pressed the button. He was becoming as jumpy as Ana. When she opened her door wearing only a white satin robe, he framed her face with his hands and kissed her, licked her lips and spread tender kisses over her cheeks.

She kicked the door closed, took his hand and led him into her bedroom. “Let’s talk about murder later.”

He flung his sports coat toward the chair in the corner. She crawled up on the bed and leaned back to prop herself on her elbows. Her robe slid open to show a long, shapely leg. He grabbed her feet to pull her closer until her legs dangled over the end of the bed. He knelt between them. “Count this later when you want me on my knees.”

He tickled her feet and made her laugh. “I have a very poor memory. You may have to do this often.”

Kissing his way up her thighs, he grazed his knuckles along her slit in a teasing swipe. He leaned back to catch her foot and kissed her toes. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“Are you talking about indiscriminate toe kissing, or am I something special?”