Fierce Passion (38 page)

“You caught me. I fed them before I came here,” he confessed.

He pulled her so close she couldn’t mistake how badly he wanted her. She slid her hand between them to rub him and felt him grow harder. “The ability to plan ahead is a significant plus in an executive, and you have other talents as well.”

“I didn’t sleep my way to the top,” he murmured between kisses.

“No, but you surely could have.”

They’d been together often, but he showered her with a fierce passion tonight. She welcomed his lavish kisses and deep thrusts and clung to his broad shoulders. She rolled her hips to rock against him and cried out as she came. He hovered above her, and she clasped her core to stoke him into bliss and lay pleasantly limp beneath his comforting weight. When he moved, she held him tight. “I like holding you.”

“You don’t feel crushed?”

“No, only warm and safe.”

He kissed her tenderly, nibbled her ears and licked her breasts until his beard tickled. He rolled over to pull her up on top and wound his arms around her to keep her close. “Tomorrow will come too soon, but I’m not tired.”

She kissed his cheek and wiggled against him. “Neither am I. What shall we do, count sheep?”

He smoothed his hand over her bottom. “I can’t remember the numbers above one when you’re so close.”

“I can get closer,” she promised, and he welcomed her delicious kisses and created another night neither would ever forget.

Rafael Mondragon listened to the news on the drive to medical school each morning, and he was shocked to learn of Orlando Ortiz’s death. Maggie would already be at the American high school preparing for her classes. He called her as soon as he parked. “My mother may wait a year before marrying another millionaire, but I doubt it’ll be much longer.”

“Will she expect us to attend the funeral?”

“She might, but I’m not going.”

“I don’t blame you. How old was he?”

“Sixty-two, which doesn’t sound all that old to me anymore. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Maggie didn’t see her sister, Libby, until lunch and drew her out onto the patio where they could eat at a table by themselves. “Orlando Ortiz died. While Rafael refuses to speak to his mother, I have the awful feeling she’ll contact him to demand his support.”

Libby opened her salad container and dribbled on the dressing. “Carlotta can demand whatever she wants, but your husband won’t give in. You have to know that.”

“Of course I do, but he doesn’t need the aggravation and neither do I.”

“Send flowers to the funeral and let it go. Ana Santillan married Orlando’s son. I wonder if she’ll keep modeling or simply run their social life. The family is probably involved in several charities, so she’d have plenty to do. We should call her and offer our sympathies.”

“You’re more curious than sympathetic,” Maggie chided.

Libby’s blue eyes shone with mischief. “True, but what harm could it do to stay in touch?”

Maggie gestured in the air. “Connect the dots. Carlotta is Ana’s mother-in-law, or stepmother-in-law, and that’s coming much too close to trouble.”

“I suppose,” Libby agreed, but she still wondered aloud. “We spoke to Ana after the accident, so we could call and ask how she is.”

“Give it up, Libby.”

Libby dropped the subject, but just because Maggie wouldn’t call Ana didn’t mean she couldn’t do it on her own.

Lamoreaux sent his limousine for Ana. This was the first time she’d gotten a good look at his chauffeur. She’d recalled a larger man from the security videos, but this fellow was short and as lean as a jockey. “Have you been working for Mr. Lamoreaux long?” she asked.

“Awhile,” he answered and remained focused on his driving.

She understood he was paid to drive rather than to keep her company, but something about him struck her as off. She made no further attempts at conversation and gazed out at the city as they drove through Old Town to Lamoreaux’s apartment. It was located on the third floor of a beautifully restored building and had a spectacular view of the colorfully landscaped Parc de la Ciutadella. Ana loved coming to the park, and being so close lifted her spirits more than the prospect of modeling for the shoe designer could. He welcomed her into his home with a glass of champagne, but she took only a pretend sip and set it aside.

“I never drink when I’m working,” she told him, unwilling to reveal her pregnancy. “What a beautiful place this is.”

Lucien gazed up at the high ceiling circled with decorative gold molding. “I love nineteenth-century architecture. This building has been fully remodeled and well-maintained. What do you think of the color scheme?”

The entry and living room’s soft greens and gold lured her in. “It’s lovely.”

The photographer had set up lights in the middle of the living room and came forward to meet her. “Miss Santillan, this is a great pleasure. I’m Pierre Duvernay. I wonder if we could do some shots with you standing partially hidden by a door. It would be a way to show you wearing one shoe.” He pointed to a rack of long and short gowns, all black. “We have clothes for you.”

“Is there someone doing hair and makeup?” she asked.

“Yes,” Pierre assured her. “My wife, Nanette, is setting up her cosmetics in the master bedroom.”

“I’ll show you the way,” Lucien offered. “I hope you’ll not be on crutches too much longer.”

“So do I.” Ana feared he’d lurk while Nanette worked, but he left her at the bedroom door. Decorated in dark blue and tan, the spacious room faced the park, but what immediately caught her eye were three stunning Robert Mapplethorpe floral photos. Her stomach dropped, but she licked her lips and made her way to the chair Nanette had placed in front of a full-length mirror.

“Whether I wear my hair up or down, you can use curls to cover my scar,” Ana suggested. “What are your thoughts?”

“The scar won’t even be noticeable under your makeup, and your long hair is so pretty, let’s try several hairstyles. I’m very quick, so you won’t spend the whole morning seated here.”

“Fine,” Ana agreed with forced calm. The striking photographs were visible in the mirror. She couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling they told more about Lamoreaux than a decorator’s whim. Her agent knew where she was, but suddenly he wasn’t enough.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse. “I need to make a quick call before we begin. Will you excuse me?”

“Yes, of course.”

When Nanette stepped out of the room, she called Alejandro. “I don’t want to bother you, but I’m working this morning at Lucien Lamoreaux’s apartment overlooking Parc de la Ciutadella.” She supplied the address. “Will you please make a note of it? I’ll talk to you when I’m finished.”

“Is something wrong? Should I call the police?”

“Not yet, but I want you to know where I am should anyone be looking for me.”

“Ana, are you just being mysterious, or are you in real trouble?”

“Too soon to say. I’ll talk with you later.”

Nanette returned, carrying a long black jersey gown. “This has a side slit and would be good to show off your leg and Lucien’s shoes.”

Ana entered the master bath, which was a masterpiece of cream-and-gold marble, to change from her long skirt and top. The gown had a high neck and long sleeves and looked perfect to her.

Nanette proved to have a delicate hand with a cosmetics brush. She added layers to Ana’s mascara, a shocking red lipstick, and fluffed Ana’s curls over her left shoulder.

“You look so elegant,” the makeup artist exclaimed. “Let’s begin with this look.”

Lucien raised his hands in admiration as Ana returned to the living room. “You’re even more striking than I dreamed. The doors are so beautifully carved and painted, it will be easy to hide your cast in the photos. Take your pick of the shoes I’m showing in the fall.”

Shoeboxes were stacked to the side, each open to show a left shoe. Ana picked a black heel with a high lace vamp that hugged her ankle. “Let me go to the door before I put this on or I might not get there safely.” She moved to her place, propped her crutches against the wall behind the door, took hold of it and removed her flat. Before she could wiggle her toe into the party shoe, Lucien knelt at her feet.

“Let me help you,” he exclaimed. “Just like Cinderella. I always design my shoes with a princess in mind, and you’d make a lovely princess.”

She held her breath as he slid his hand over her ankle, but he quickly fit the shoe on her foot and stood. “Thank you. Do you want me to look as though I’m peeking from behind the door, or coming around it?”

Pierre stood back to judge. “She ought to peek, don’t you think, Lucien? Let’s make it saucy so all we’ll get is a hint of her figure and your magnificent shoe.”

Lucien moved back to be out of the way, but his glance remained on Ana. “We have so many ideas for poses, but I don’t want to tire you, so we might not finish today.”

Ana smiled as though it were no concern. The man’s shoes were gorgeous, but if he were a fan of Mapplethorpe’s, he could easily have backed Jaime’s nude project. Knowing how badly that had ended gave her chills. Suspicions weren’t clues, however, so a second day might be worth it to provide information Montoya could actually use.

Lucien checked his gold Rolex often, and at one brought the shoot to a close. “Your agent said you’d be available for two days. I want to dress you in bright colors tomorrow. I’m thinking red, or maybe greens and blues. Let’s talk it over while we have lunch.”

The dining table was set with white damask and crystal, and a chef waited at the head of the table. “I always bring Etienne with me when I come to Spain. I love Spanish food, but there’s nothing like familiar flavors from home.”

Pierre and Nanette disappeared together; the table was set for two. Lucien helped Ana into her chair and set her crutches aside. Etienne returned to the kitchen, and his white-coated assistant brought a soup tureen to the table and filled their bowls with a mushroom soup with a bouillon base.

“This is one of my favorites,” Lucien said. “Will you have wine now that you’ve finished working?”

“Thank you, but I prefer not to drink during the day.” She smiled as though she were sincerely sorry to miss whatever expensive vintage he’d chosen.

“Then I must invite you to come for dinner soon. You’re not wearing a ring, so should I assume the rumor you’ve married Alejandro Vasquez is untrue?”

He was an attractive man, and his teasing smile made him look harmless, but Ana remained on guard. “Our situation is complicated. Do you go out for walks in the park? The Museum of Modern Art is close.”

“I’ve been there. It’s an interesting collection, but I prefer the French museums. You must have been to France in your travels.”

“Yes, many times.” She kept silent about her mother and stepfather, and the conversation remained focused on art. While she didn’t prompt him, he spoke of Mapplethorpe on his own.

“I collect modern photography. Perhaps you recognized the Mapplethorpe photos in my bedroom.”

With his accent, he made the word
bedroom
sound like an invitation. “I did. He was a master of black-and-white and died much too soon. I’m interested in photography myself, and may someday turn it into a career.”

“Really, it would be a shame for you not to be in front of the camera.”

They were served a thick slice of roast lamb with small parsley potatoes and green beans. She sat back and stared at her plate. “I’m so sorry, I should have mentioned I’m a vegetarian when you first asked me to stay.”

“I had no idea.” Lucien looked up at Etienne’s assistant. “Please remove Miss Santillan’s plate and replace it with something she’d enjoy.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have spoken up earlier.” She certainly would have had she not been so distracted by her companion. At dinner parties, she could leave the meat on her plate and no one would notice, but with only two of them, Lucien would ask why she’d not eaten her lamb.

Lucien touched her hand. “Please, don’t be embarrassed. Too often I assume others enjoy what I do, and I appreciate a reminder to be more considerate.”

A new plate swiftly appeared with sliced fruit substituted for the lamb. She ate a green bean and exclaimed at the flavor. She hadn’t worn a watch because they were too often misplaced during shoots, but Lucien took such small bites she feared it would be late afternoon before she could leave for home. Etienne served heavenly berry pastries for dessert, but she needed heaps of whipped cream to swallow each bite.

When she at last said good-bye to Lucien, she pretended an interest in his limo, and memorized the license plate before he helped her slide in. She called Alejandro and spoke as though she didn’t care if the chauffeur overheard. “I’m finished working for the day and on my way home. See you soon.” She ended the call before Alejandro could question her, and he surprised her by being there when she reached her condo. He nodded to dismiss the chauffeur and opened the door of Ana’s building to escort her in.

“You needn’t have come, but now that you’re here, I need your opinion.” She went to the security desk and asked to see the security tapes she’d studied when she’d wanted to know who’d sent her presents. Henry recalled the dates and put them on the screen.