Fierce Passion (3 page)

Ana had pulled her hair back and worn a minimum of makeup. She wouldn’t stand out anywhere in her black pants and a tailored white shirt, but Ignacio apparently gawked at every billboard he passed, or he was overly fond of women’s magazines.

The studio walls were painted black and held only a few risers and battered wooden chairs.

Ignacio moved behind the video camera. “Just sit there together. Do you know your lines?”

Ana had few to learn, and to his credit, Gian Carlo had memorized his. She sat forward on her chair, as though eager to hear what he had to say. When Belmonte waved for them to begin, Gian Carlo spoke his lines with a deliberate care as though he were struggling to find the proper way to break his girlfriend’s heart. She gave it her best and sobbed on cue.

The casting director came around in front of the camera. “I might be able to use you as an extra, Gian Carlo, but I definitely want Ana.”

Gian Carlo looked as deeply disappointed as could be expected, but Ana didn’t know what to say. She stood and shrugged. “I wasn’t the one auditioning.”

“So what? You had more emotion in your face than any of the actresses who’ve auditioned for the part. I can’t believe many men have walked out on you, but your anguish touched me. It’s exactly what we want on the screen. We’ll put you in a wig and cheap dress so no one will recognize you. We won’t begin rehearsals for several weeks, but leave your contact information with my secretary, and we’ll send your contract to your agent.”

Gian Carlo was so angry he didn’t speak to her on the way back to her place, and she made no excuses or apologies for the way the morning had gone. Belmonte was completely wrong, however. The only man she’d ever loved had bid her a final loving farewell and died.

Chapter Two

A white-rose bouquet sat on the security desk, and Ana wished she’d been there to receive it personally. “How long has this been here, Henry?”

He looked up at the wall clock. “Maybe half an hour. This time it was a florist’s deliveryman. Their tag is on the roses.”

There had been no tags on the other bouquets, and she hoped it would be a clue as to the sender. Unfortunately, the little envelope was empty, and she removed it from the bouquet. “Please take these home to your wife. My condo is beginning to resemble a wedding chapel, and I don’t need more flowers.”

“Thank you, Miss Santillan. She’ll love them. I’ll tell her they’re from you.”

She cocked her head slightly. “Are you a stickler for honesty, Henry?”

He leaned close to whisper, “I try to be, but if I say I bought the roses, she’ll suspect I’m apologizing for something and demand to know what I’ve done wrong.”

Ana laughed with him and went on up to her condo. She’d added water each day and the four bouquets on the coffee table still looked beautiful, but maybe she’d misunderstood why they’d been sent. She kicked off her flats, sat down at the dining room table and pulled out her phone. A quick review of messages revealed nothing she couldn’t recall. If someone thought they owed her an apology, she’d surely remember why, but came up with a blank.

Maybe one of the ads she’d done had spurred sales and the roses were sent as a lavish thank-you. If that were the case, someone from the advertising agency would have signed the card. They always took credit whenever they could. She turned the small florist’s envelope to read the name and number and called them.

“Hello, this is Ana Santillan. Your deliveryman brought me some beautiful white roses, but there’s no card. Could you please tell me who sent them?”

“Oh, Miss Santillan, how nice to speak with you,” a cheerful woman replied. “A very nice man, a chauffeur driving a limousine, but his employer didn’t come inside.”

“Did he use a credit card?”

“No, he paid in cash. Is there something the matter with your bouquet? We’ll replace it immediately if there is.”

“The roses are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Has the chauffeur visited your shop several times lately?”

“No, I’d not seen him before today. Is there something I should tell him if he returns?”

“Yes, please explain I no longer accept gifts without the sender’s name. It’s very important for security, you understand.”

“Yes, Miss Santillan, I’ll do that. Good-bye.”

Ana bet wherever the chauffeur had bought the other roses, he’d paid in cash, so there was no point in calling around hoping to discover his employer’s name. Perhaps he expected her to begin waiting for him in the foyer and had switched to the florist’s delivery to keep his employer’s identity hidden. Her admirer struck her as more of an ass than dangerous, and she forgot him to check her work calendar.

A job scheduled with Armand tomorrow for a jewelry line might be fun. A study of Renaissance paintings had provided her with a wealth of graceful gestures, and a ring always looked more beautiful on a carefully posed hand. She had a ballet barre in her second bedroom and traded her street clothes for a black leotard. Her mother had insisted she study ballet, and she’d loved it. At one time, she’d hoped to join a ballet company, but she’d grown too tall. There were some male dancers over six feet in height, but ballerinas were dainty creatures they could easily lift and turn, not striking women born with the height for haute couture.

She took an occasional ballet class and admired the way ballerinas kept their stately posture long past middle age. After warming up, she put on her favorite music and danced only to please herself.

Wednesday morning, Armand kissed both her cheeks. “What game were you playing Saturday night? You were there, then you weren’t, and Libby wandered into your place for a few minutes.”

Ana debated telling him about the roses, but, sure it would sound silly, she shrugged off his question. “I wanted to leave early without being noticed, and Libby helped me escape. Now what are we doing today?”

“I want that sultry look you do so well. After Teresa does your hair and makeup, choose any of the black gowns on the rack. I’m creating a nighttime scene on a balcony. You’ll play the confident woman waiting for what the night will bring.”

“No man today?” she asked.

“No, I want you to fill the page, glancing over your shoulder. We’ll leave the man to the viewer’s imagination.”

“Fine. That’s the best place for them.”

Armand rested his hands on his hips. “Oh, my dear, I expected to see you with a date Saturday night. Are you alone again?”

“I wish you wouldn’t stress the word ‘again’.”

He bowed his head. “Forgive me.”

“Of course.”

Teresa had a small studio. An artist with hair and makeup, she had delicate features and tight gray curls that flopped about like a lion’s mane. She’d been with the ad agency for many years, and she and Ana worked well together. She fluffed the model’s hair. “You have such beautiful hair. Are you going to let it grow forever?”

Ana’s soft curls touched her waist now, but she had no reason to cut it. “I may.” She closed her eyes as Teresa worked to give her an elaborate upswept do, and followed the makeup artist’s directions as she applied cosmetics to give her a sultry lavender-shaded eye.

Armand’s assistants had set up the nighttime backdrop. Denise was a petite bundle of energy and Roberto a laidback, ponytailed man. The ad featured magnificent diamond jewelry, and when they’d finished shooting, Ana watched over Armand’s shoulder as he put the photos on his computer. They had exactly what he’d been told to capture, but she wasn’t satisfied.

“We’ve seen this same ad a million times. Why don’t we try for something new?”

He turned to look up at her. “What do you have in mind?”

“What if we went with playful rather than sultry, and I posed in a towel with a shower in the background, or a waterfall, or a lush garden. Make it look as though diamonds are all a girl needs to wear.”

Roberto nodded. “Let’s use the green screen and fill in the background later. Maybe with a few fig leaves, we could set you in the garden of Eden.”

“I won’t pose in anything smaller than a bikini,” Ana responded. “If you have a snake dangling from a tree, it will look as though diamonds are evil, so we shouldn’t go there.”

“A waterfall would be good,” Denise offered. “We can spray Ana so it looks as though she’s wet from standing so close to the water. Make her skin sparkle like the diamonds.”

Ana turned and raised her hands as though blocking the spray. The diamond bracelet, necklace, ring and earrings all flashed their bright fire near her face. “How about this?”

“I like it,” Roberto said.

Armand shrugged. “We can try it. Let’s wrap you in a sarong so you’ll look as though you’re on an island vacation. Go see what Teresa has.”

Teresa had yardage they used for a variety of purposes, and they chose a pale lavender silk that showed off Ana’s slim figure and peach-toned skin. Once the photos were in the computer and the waterfall inserted into the background, they were all pleased they had something original and new. Ana went to change into her street clothes. When she came out, Armand was speaking with one of the ad executives who’d been at her table Saturday night. Rather than interrupt them, she waited to say good-bye.

“Good work,” the executive complimented. “This will take the campaign in a fresh direction.”

Armand shrugged. “I often have more ideas than those in your first sketches.”

“Then stop hiding your talent and keep using them.” He slapped Armand on the shoulder and walked away.

Denise came up behind Ana. “That wasn’t right,” she whispered. “You’re the one who offered the new ideas.”

“We all worked on it,” Ana countered, but she gave Armand a hurried wave as she left. He’d not known she was standing close enough to overhear him take credit for her suggestions. Roberto and Denise had offered their ideas too, and Armand should have reported it as a joint effort, rather than solely his. He was a great photographer, but from now on in his studio, she’d keep her ideas to herself.

Ana used the alcove off her kitchen as an office rather than a pantry. She kept her work calendar on the wall and tracked her earnings and expenses on her laptop. She’d been doing more work with her favorite designers this year, but each new job brought the uncomfortable suspicion it might be her last.

That week, gorgeous potted plants began arriving for her, and rather than refuse them, Henry used them to decorate the building’s foyer. Henry didn’t work on the weekends, and she neglected to tell his substitute to refuse deliveries for her. When she came back from running errands Saturday morning, there was a large gold-wrapped box of expensive chocolates waiting for her.

“I love these, Juan, but please leave the box open here on the counter so anyone walking by can enjoy them.” The candies were gone before noon.

With nothing planned for Sunday, she took a deep breath and fought not to feel pathetic for wanting to spend some time in an attractive student’s world. Doubting he’d be at El Gato, she donned her Goth outfit and makeup and walked farther than she had last Sunday. It was a cool spring day, perfect for exercise, and when she reached the café, she was surprised, and more delighted than she’d care to admit, to find Alejandro there.

He leaped from his chair to wave. “I’m glad you came back. I wasn’t certain what time you’d been here last week, and I was afraid I’d missed you.”

She slid into the chair he pulled out for her. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt, and in neatly pressed jeans, he didn’t look as young as he had last week. She’d been concentrating on not being recognized, however, so maybe her glances of him had been too brief.

“Thank you. I hadn’t looked at the time either. I was out walking, and this is a convenient place to stop.”

He shoved his hair out of his eyes and regarded her with a wicked grin. “Then you didn’t come just to see me?”

“I’m happy to see you, let’s leave it at that,” she replied, glad she’d made the effort. Models knew how to hold a static pose, but energy nearly rolled off him in waves.

“You didn’t bring a book?” he asked.

“No, sometimes I like to just sit and watch people go by.”

“You do that too? I pick out someone and imagine what their life might be. They could be on their way to meet their grandmother, or a lover. The possibilities are endless.”

“You don’t think about their houses?” she asked.

He flashed an amused grin. “No. I think about houses too much as it is. My father complains I spend far too much time playing with cardboard models and not nearly enough with pretty women. What can I get for you? Do you want those little cakes?”

“Yes, I love them, with tea, please.” She sat back and tried not to smile too wide. Alejandro had a disarming charm, but she’d have to carefully manage her remarks to share what little truth she could. Perhaps that she was pretty and single would be all he cared to know.

He returned with two plates of cakes and tea for her. “I ate when I first got here.”

She was sorry she’d deliberately taken her time arriving. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You told me you weren’t here often, so I didn’t count on seeing you today.”