“I saw a colleague yesterday, and while he wouldn’t disclose who’d hired him, he’s being paid to provide information about you.”
Alarmed, she sank down on the end of her bed. “What sort of information? My modeling jobs, or something personal?”
Cazares cleared his throat, but his voice remained hushed. “I believe a bit of both.”
“That isn’t good news. Could it be Lamoreaux?” she asked.
“It could be, but he wouldn’t say. He isn’t a friend of mine. We just happen to cross paths occasionally.”
“Would you describe him as ethical?”
Cazares delayed a moment too long. “I don’t recommend him.”
“Oh fine. I don’t lead a particularly exciting life, so he’ll probably soon grow bored with the job. Can you describe him?”
“He’s six feet tall and heavy set, bald, and he walks fast, as though he’s on his way to an important meeting. If you see him, pretend not to notice and go on with whatever you were doing. You’re not in danger, but be careful.”
“Thank you, I will be.” She glanced at her framed magazine covers and changed them for the Miro prints. It was a small precaution, but all she could handle right now.
That afternoon, her agent welcomed her with a cheerful smile. “Armand Levya wants you for a shoot on a cruise ship, the Mediterranean Goddess, this coming Monday morning. Bikinis, resort wear, that sort of thing. Meet him at the ad agency at seven, and you’ll all go from there.”
She made a note of the date on her cell phone. “Fine. Thank you.” She handed him Lamoreaux’s number in Paris and the brochure from his shop. “He sent me a magnificent pair of heels, so he must want me to model for him. Will you please call him while I’m here? I want to meet him before I agree to work for him.”
Paul nodded thoughtfully and called the Paris number. He spoke French as well as Spanish, Catalan and English. Ana had learned French to work with haute couture designers, and English merely for fun. He put the call on speaker. “Monsieur Lamoreaux, this is Paul Perez, Ana Santillan’s agent. She asked me to call and thank you for the beautiful pair of heels you sent to her.”
When Ana heard Lamoreaux’s soft-spoken reply, she whispered, “Find out why he sent me kittens.”
Paul raised his brows. “Monsieur Lamoreaux, why are you sending Ana presents?”
Ana and Paul exchanged puzzled glances, but Lamoreaux admitted only that he’d wanted to make a good impression on a woman he greatly admired. Women loved flowers and kittens, so they were appropriate gifts, and he hoped he’d made her curious about him. He’d be in Barcelona the following week and wanted to discuss the advertising for his new line.
“Let’s meet in my office on Tuesday at one.” Paul gave him the address and directions. He ended the call and shook his head. “Let’s face it, he adores your legs.”
“Many of the designers are eccentric,” Ana mused aloud. “Lamoreaux seems like the typical Frenchman. He’ll dote on a woman, swiftly grow bored and look elsewhere for someone new.”
“Many Spanish men suffer from the same failing, but if he doesn’t impress us next week, you needn’t work with him. Your skin has such a pretty glow. You must have had a very good time in Palma, or did you spend a day at a spa?”
Any color she had today would have come from Alejandro’s lavish affection, and she blushed rather than give him credit. “We worked outdoors so it must be from the sea breeze and sunshine. Have you received the script from Ignacio Belmonte?”
“Not yet, but if it isn’t here in the next couple of days, I’ll call him.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, but go ahead. It shouldn’t take more than an afternoon to film the part I read, so it isn’t a big time commitment.” They checked the work she had coming up and parted on a better note than they had the last time.
Ana surveyed her closet with the same exasperated sigh as she had last weekend. She wanted to look pretty, but not so pretty other people noticed. She decided upon a short green dress that matched her eyes. People recognized her from her long blonde hair, and she twisted it into a bun at her nape in the hope she wouldn’t be noticed. She loved bracelets, loaded both wrists with silver and gold bangles, and finished with gold hoop earrings. She had dozens of pairs of heels and chose a tan wedged pair with ankle ties. All she’d need tonight was a small clutch and light sweater.
She went downstairs ten minutes before Alejandro was set to arrive, and Jacob was on duty. “How is your school going?” she asked him.
“Good. Thank you for asking, Miss Santillan.”
She paused, uncertain whether she should ask him not to use her last name as she left for the evening, or when she came home. He’d think her daft, of course, and she didn’t want to lure him into the gigantic secret she’d kept from Alejandro. She turned away from the desk and waited near the door. When Alejandro drove up in a black Mercedes SUV, she went outside to meet him.
He came around the car to open her door. “I have to haul stuff all the time. I hope you don’t mind riding in this.”
The car was spotless and the interior freshly vacuumed. “Why would I mind? Don’t all architects drive trucks or SUVs?”
He got into the driver’s seat and leaned over to kiss her. “They do, but this isn’t the car for a romantic evening, and I apologize.”
While he worried about his car, she just wanted another remarkably pleasant time. “I love SUVs. The view of the road is so much better with the high seats.” It was so good she noticed the bald man in the dark sedan parked across the street. He hurriedly lowered a camera when she glanced his way, but she’d seen it.