Fierce Passion (6 page)

“You’re pretty enough to be a model yourself.”

“Thank you, but I prefer staying behind the camera.”

Their table was ready, and she insisted he take the seat facing the other diners, while she sat with her back to the room. She hid behind her menu. “Their filet mignon is excellent, as is everything I’ve tried.”

“You come here often?”

“No, just once in a while.”

“The way you stop by El Gato?”

He was teasing her, and she liked it. “I’m more often at El Gato than here. You must have favorite places too.”

“I do, but last week I had to take my father’s place at a charity auction, and I don’t do well when I’m forced into a tux.”

He had to be talking about the event she’d attended, but she hadn’t seen him there. She wondered if he’d noticed her, or rather, Ana Santillan. “A tux is nothing compared to what women have to suffer through to look good for a black-tie event.”

“It’s not the tux that’s the problem. It’s having to sit with strangers and make idle conversation.”

“That is a strain.” She focused on the menu and then glanced over the top. “Couldn’t you use some investors for your low-cost housing project?”

“I could, but an auction to benefit sick kids isn’t the right place to pitch my ideas.”

She rubbed her toe along his calf. “I understand. I’ll bet you look very handsome in a tux.”

He laughed and set his menu aside. “You are different tonight, and it’s not just your clothes. You didn’t say more than a couple of words the first time we met. This afternoon is an incredible blur, and tonight you sound as though we’d just met.”

“I don’t mean to disappoint you.” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “The sex was great, but it takes a while to get to know someone, and I haven’t been out on a date in a while.”

“Bad breakup?”

She took a deep breath. Santos didn’t deserve a comment, but his father did. “The man I loved died.” She didn’t confide that Miguel would undoubtedly be the love of her life.

He looked horribly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that we seemed so close this afternoon, and…”

She reached across the small table for his hand. “Don’t apologize. We do get along well. The people who know me know, and it’s no secret. He had a weak heart, and his death wasn’t unexpected.”

“I’m still sorry I asked. I ride in bike races—not the Tour de France, but amateur competitions—and I’m fit. I can give you a health certificate from my physician if you like.”

“Thank you, but no.” He was so sincere, and other than one overwhelming truth, she was giving him only a thin veneer of her life. She felt only a snippet of guilt and clung to the fun of the moment.

“We’re supposed to be thinking about food.” He gave the menu a quick glance, and when their waiter returned, he ordered the filet mignon, and she asked for a spring-vegetable-filled empanada. “Tell me about the chef your mother married.”

Grateful for his curiosity, she sat back and relaxed. “Andre is short, round and makes the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted. If my mother hadn’t seen him first, I might have married him myself.”

“I could learn to cook.”

He looked as though he’d make the effort, and he’d been such a giving lover, she wished they’d met while she was being herself. “I think you ought to focus on architecture.”

“I’ll be finished in June. I’ll never be finished really, because there will always be something more, or new, to learn.”

“Like photography, but the continuing challenge is good.”

Their conversation flowed so smoothly she was surprised by how quickly the evening passed. She ordered a lemon tart for dessert as an excuse to stay longer. “I love these. They have the sweetest zing.”

“So do you.” He took a bite of an apple baked in a flakey crust. “This is good too. We could order after-dinner drinks and stay until this place closes. Or we could go to your place and check on the kittens.”

Her home, with some of her magazine covers framed in her bedroom, was definitely off-limits until he knew who she was. “Not tonight. I have an early job, and…”

“I understand. I have an early class. But I could just look at the kittens. Then if you don’t find someone to take them, maybe I could keep them at my place while you’re on Mallorca.”

His generosity made her feel all the worse. “Thank you. I’ve just realized Fatima will be back tomorrow, and she can care for them while I’m away.”

“If you have her, then you can keep them,” he suggested.

The man definitely had a point. “I don’t really want to, Alejandro.”

He nodded. “May I give you a ride home?”

“It isn’t far.”

Looking alarmed, he leaned forward. “You can’t walk around the city alone at night. We’ll either go in my car or I’ll walk you.”

She reached for his hand and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “There’s usually a taxi out front. I’ll take one.”

“Is hiding where you live part of the Goth persona?”

“Mystery is part of my allure.” She winked at him and finished her tart. There was a taxi available. He opened the door for her and handed the driver several bills. It was an awkward moment, and when he leaned close to kiss her, she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him with the same passion she’d shown that afternoon. “I’ll call you as soon as I come home from Mallorca.”

She entered the taxi and pulled the door closed before Alejandro could respond. “Please turn at the corner. I only live a few blocks away, but we can take the long way.” She didn’t know what type of car Alejandro owned, but no one followed. She’d definitely call him, although she was torn about what to say. He’d soon expect to learn her last name and where she lived. She couldn’t blame him if he felt he’d been tricked. But if she hadn’t been hiding her identity, they’d never have met, and it was so nice to escape the tedious fame that brought out all the paparazzi leeches. Maybe a trip to Mallorca would be all she’d need to find a way to set everything right.

Fatima let herself into Ana’s condo on Monday morning. She went into the kitchen, set down her shopping bag and tied on her apron. “Are you here, Ana?”

Ana met her with the kittens in hand. “Good morning. Do you like cats?”

Fatima took a step back. “Not really, but it looks as though they’re already here.” She was old enough to be Ana’s mother and behaved more like a favorite aunt than an employee.

Ana put the kittens down, and they raced away. “I put their cat box and food and water in the guest bathroom. I’ll shut them in there so they won’t be in your way. If I can catch them.”

Fatima heated water for tea and opened the refrigerator to store the fresh fruits and vegetables she’d bought that morning. “That’s a good idea. The vacuum cleaner will probably terrify them.”

Ana tightened the belt on her robe and leaned back against the counter. “How was your vacation?”

“It was good. Bruno is happy as long as he can fish, but my sister and her family always have problems, and I can’t help them when they ignore my advice. We stayed only a couple of days with them, thank goodness. It was a good trip though. I found some new ways to prepare fish.”

Ana had always found Fatima’s advice valuable, even if her own sister didn’t. “I could use some advice too.” She told her about the presents that kept arriving. “I can’t imagine who it is.”

“Sounds as though someone’s fallen in love with you.” Fatima took a new sponge from the drawer and wet it to wipe the tile counters.

“It would be nice if it were someone I’d met, rather than someone who’s fixated on a cologne ad from a billboard.”

“You meet people all the time. Maybe you quickly forgot him, and he’s too shy to sign his name.” She rinsed the sponge. “I don’t see a single stray crumb. Didn’t you cook anything for yourself while I was away?”

“Some soup, I think. I ate out and bought salads to bring home. Now I need to catch the cats and get dressed.”

“Just leave them for now. They aren’t causing any trouble yet.”

“Not yet,” Ana echoed. She needed a lot more advice on what she should do with Alejandro, but she hated to admit how much trouble she’d gotten herself into on her own.

Paul Perez had been Ana’s agent for several years, and while he worked diligently to guide her career, she was often a step ahead of him, and his usual impish smile was absent that day. “You should have told me about Ignacio Belmonte’s interest in you before the contract arrived in the mail.”

She smoothed her short skirt over her knees. “I doubt anything will come of it.”

“Well, I don’t. Belmonte seems sincere. Do you realize what starring in an Almodóvar film would do for your career?”

“It’s a small part with only a few lines, and Belmonte plans to hide who I am, so how’s that going to help me?”

Paul left his desk to walk to the window flooding his handsomely furnished office with morning light. At five-seven, he had to look up at Ana, but he took care never to stand beside her. He was slim with curly dark brown hair, wide-set hazel eyes and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. He was always attractively dressed, today in a well-tailored gray suit. People understood he was serious when he spoke, but Ana continually caused him unnecessary stress.

“The part could lead to something more, another film, or a lucrative endorsement contract. You need to look past the present at what might come next. We’re always building, Ana. You must remember that.”

“Yes, Paul, always building, I understand. I’m doing the Galen Salazar’s shoot on Mallorca this week. His last show won a lot of praise, and his new fashions should be equally good.”

“That’s just it!” Paul emphasized. “You can’t rest on merely being ‘equally good’. You must always be better than your last shoot. Acting brings a whole new dimension to your career. We should have pursued this ourselves. Please sign the contract, and I’ll return a copy to Belmonte and keep yours here in our files.”

He sat down and pushed the contract toward her. “You’re twenty-four with maybe another ten years to model. What do you plan to do then, marry and have triplets?”

Ana signed the contract and handed it to him. “I never think about getting married, but I’ll survive, Paul. You needn’t worry about me.”

“I’ll worry anyway. Your affair with Miguel Aragon did wonders for your career.”

Sickened he would put Miguel and her career in the same breath, Ana stood and took a step toward the door. “I was already well-known when I dated Miguel. He’s dead, and I’ll not date another matador simply for the publicity. I’ll concentrate on Galen Salazar’s work for the time being and nothing more.”

“Enjoy Mallorca,” he responded through clenched teeth.

That afternoon, a package arrived for Ana in the mail. It contained a pair of black velvet heels adorned with gold lace and braid. Sexy and feminine, they were some of the most beautiful shoes she’d ever seen. The designer’s name, Lucien Lamoreaux, was on the box, but she’d never heard of him. They fit perfectly, and she walked up and down her marble tiled entryway. “What do you think, Fatima?”

“If you ever attend a coronation, those will be the heels to wear.”

Fatima was always diplomatic with her opinions, but Ana already loved the shoes. There was no return address on the package and no letter inside. “These can’t be from Lamoreaux, or he’d have included a note saying he hoped I’d love his shoes and wear them often.”

“They must be from your shy boyfriend,” Fatima mused aloud.

“At least it isn’t anything alive, but I need to do something about this now.” She sat down still wearing the gorgeous heels and called Javier Cazares. “Libby Gunderson gave me your name. I understand you’ve done some work for Santos Aragon.”

His raspy voice was hushed as though he didn’t wish to be overheard. “I never discuss my clients, Miss Santillan. How may I help you?”

“I hope this doesn’t sound too absurd, but someone’s been sending me gifts—bouquets of roses, potted plants, chocolates, kittens, now designer shoes. I don’t know who it is, but it has to stop.”

“You’ve absolutely no idea who it might be?”

“No. There are no gift cards with anything.” She told him about the chauffeur. “He didn’t visit the same florist twice, but I do have one florist’s card.”

“Do you have security cameras where you live?”

“Yes, we do.” She gave him her address. “I’m going downstairs, Fatima. Maybe I should put the kittens in the bathroom so they won’t get out when I leave or come back.”

“I’ll do it. Just give me a minute.”

Ana changed into flats and left before the kittens could notice the open door. “Henry, I need to see the security footage when the chauffeur dropped off the roses. Can you access it?”

“Week before last, wasn’t it?”

“I should have kept better track of this, but yes, it started then.” They watched it several times, but the chauffeur’s hat and rose bouquets hid his face.

Javier Cazares soon arrived. He was a slender man who wore his gray hair slicked back. His gold-rimmed glasses and serious manner gave him a philosophy professor’s intense gaze. He stood with them at the security desk to view the images.