are?”
“No, but I’ll tell her soon.”
“You may think she doesn’t know, but I’ll bet she does. Women can smell money on a naked man.”
“Good-bye.” He hung up and left his cell phone on the table. His father’s fortune had tainted every relationship he’d had. Ana was a sweet girl and not overeager to plant her hooks in him. He wished she’d given him her last name so he could do some detective work on his own and was immediately ashamed the thought had even crossed his mind.
Chapter Three
Ana had plenty of time to get ready for their date, but Goth Girl never went out at night, nor did she ever meet anyone for dinner. With the size of her wardrobe, she could pull something together. An architect who intended to build low-cost housing wouldn’t want to date an haute couture model anyway. It was only a convenient rationalization, but so what? She hadn’t wanted to see a man in months, and she definitely wanted to see Alejandro again and again.
A long-sleeved black dress from the back of her closet looked good with her flat-heeled boots. She wore red lingerie, black lace stockings and the pale lip gloss Goth Girl required. Her nails were a flame red, which she supposed was out of character, but Alejandro hadn’t noticed that afternoon. She added onyx earrings and silver bracelets to complete the look. Fashion depended upon appropriate accessories, but she wasn’t making a fashion statement tonight.
She draped a black cashmere shawl around her shoulders, picked up a small clutch bag and paused to glance at the full-length mirror. Disappointed she looked more like herself than a Goth devotee, she started over with slim-fit jeans, a snug black T-shirt and a black blazer. She searched her jewelry box for a clever steampunk fish pin made of brass gears and springs and pinned it on her lapel. She could have worn heels and not towered over Alejandro, but stuck with the flat-heeled boots.
She had a black bag with a shoulder strap and tossed the clutch back onto the closet shelf. She checked the mirror again, struck an aggressive pose and was satisfied she’d be fine, unless a real Goth group eating at the restaurant recognized her as a poser. Her Porsche was in the condo’s underground garage, but no Goth fan would drive such an expensive car. She practiced walking with a jerky stride on her way there, but as she entered, she worried she might be recognized even in a black wig. Alejandro was waiting for her in the bar. She went straight to him rather than pause at the reservation desk.
Alejandro took her arm and led her to a small table. “When I didn’t find you when I woke up, I was afraid you hadn’t been real. You’re definitely real tonight, but you look different somehow, more grown-up.”
He’d added a jacket to his dress shirt and jeans and was the same man she’d seen earlier. She glanced down at her blazer and jeans. “I could go home and try again.”
“No, you look beautiful. I didn’t mean to insult you. What do you want to drink?”
She supposed she ought to order beer and drink it from the bottle, but her disguise didn’t have to go that far. “White wine.” She took a small sip when they were served. “You looked very different to me when I saw you this afternoon, so if I look different to you now, I understand.” She dipped her head to let her wig swing forward to brush her cheeks. That afternoon, he’d been concentrating on more appealing parts of her body and hadn’t discovered her wig. She’d known he wouldn’t.
He reached for her hand. “Let’s start again. I like the sultry artist look. I hope the rest of your afternoon was good.”
She smiled and licked her lips. “It didn’t compare.” She pulled a photo from her purse. “Someone gave me a couple of kittens, and I need to find them a home. Here they are napping on the sofa.”
“They are cute. Are you sure you want to give them away?”
“Positive. My mother never allowed me to have a pet, so I’m not used to having little creatures underfoot. I told you I travel for work, so I can’t keep them.” His gaze was so warm and sympathetic she was tempted to tell him about the cascades of roses and other gifts, but a freelance photographer wouldn’t attract such devotion. Instead, she offered only a sweet smile.
“When are you leaving town?” he asked.
“Wednesday, I’m doing a fashion shoot in Mallorca.”
“It sounds like fun, unless the models are all prima donnas and give you a hard time.”
Feeling as though she’d stepped out of her life to commentate from the sidelines, she took another sip of wine. “The best are very considerate and fun. I enjoy working with them.”
“Only the best?”
“That’s all I’m willing to say. If word got around I’d bad-mouthed a model, I might find myself out of work.”
“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.”