Chapter One
Barcelona, Spain
The exquisite orchid corsage lay beside Ana Santillan’s place card. It was whiter than snow and tied with a fiery red satin ribbon. She made a yearly donation to the children’s charity benefiting from tonight’s gala dinner, but she wouldn’t have been singled out with such a lovely corsage. There was no card, and that week beautiful rose bouquets had also arrived at her condo without a sender’s name.
She’d assumed her mystery admirer might be too shy to sign a card, but if he’d left the orchid at her place, he must be there and hope to meet her tonight. Anticipating an awkward introduction to a man she’d rather not know, she spread the starched linen napkin over her lap and left the orchid untouched.
Seated with advertising personnel she knew from modeling, she smiled at their spouses and partners. Armand Leyva, one of her favorite photographers, gave her a welcoming grin. She enjoyed her companions’ decidedly ribald humor, although as the evening progressed, she grew increasingly uncomfortable. The eerie sensation of being watched created an itching ball of heat between her shoulder blades. She made her living with her face and figure, but being slyly observed unnerved her.
The popular benefit drew a wealthy crowd, and she recognized most faces but knew no one well. Turning to see who sat nearby, she found Santos Aragon with his American fiancée. Although she and Santos were through months ago, she didn’t envy his latest willowy blonde. Someday soon he’d shatter the poor kid’s heart and leave it scattered like glass at an accident scene.
She scanned the tables seated closer to the orchestra, but no one gazed her way. The hairs on the back of her neck continued to twitch. Someone stared at her even if she couldn’t catch him. He hadn’t approached her during the cocktail hour, but she’d arrived only a few minutes before everyone had been ushered into the ballroom.
The dinner had been quite good, even if she hadn’t eaten more than a mouthful or two, and the auction would soon begin. She excused herself to beat the rush to the restroom. The hotel’s newly remodeled lounge was decorated in ivory and gold with comfortable padded chairs, and rather than return to her table, she sat to rest and ripped her fingers through her gently curled hair.
Leaving early would make it far too easy for an adoring fan to follow her home. She yawned, kicked off her silver heels and rested her feet on a bench facing the long mirror. If she’d come with one of the brawny men she’d posed with last week, maybe being watched wouldn’t be so unsettling. Unfortunately, she wasn’t particularly fond of any of them.
She looked up as the door opened, and nearly hissed as Santos’s fiancée entered with Maggie Mondragon. She nodded to Maggie and forced a smile. After posing her whole life, she easily summoned a pleasant expression.
“Ana, I haven’t seen you since, well, it’s been a while,” Maggie greeted her. “I framed all the beautiful photos you took of Rafael and me. I believe you’ve met my sister, Libby.”
“Yes, at the photo shoot for the Aragon cologne ad,” Ana replied. “Santos and you are spectacular on the billboards, although I prefer the intimacy of the magazine ads.”
“They’re my favorites too,” Libby replied. “That’s the last time I’ll say yes to modeling. It’s much harder work than people imagine.”
Ana eyed Libby with a sudden inspiration and stood to study their side-by-side reflections in the mirror. Santos had a weakness for leggy blondes, and she’d be a fool not to use their remarkable resemblance to her own advantage. “We have the same coloring, the same height and size. Would you do me a favor?”
Surprised, Libby turned cautious. “What sort of favor?”
“Someone’s been sending me roses, red one day, yellow the next, and this morning, a flaming orange. There aren’t any cards. There’s an orchid corsage at my place, and I’d rather not stay if my mystery admirer hopes to meet me tonight. If we exchanged gowns and you went back to my table for a few minutes, I could slip out without being followed.”
“Wait,” Maggie warned, her voice full of concern. “If someone is stalking you, we should notify the hotel security.”
Ana laughed. “Spanish men shower women with flowers every day. If I complained someone’s been sending roses, I’d look ridiculous.”
“The magazines with your fashion spreads have excellent relationship articles. Don’t you read them?” Libby asked. “Controlling men often begin with flowers and gifts, and their true nature doesn’t emerge until the woman attempts to break it off.”
“That’s why I’m very careful about the men I date,” Ana countered. She congratulated herself silently for keeping Santos’s name out it. “All I want to do is go home. Will you help me?”
Libby and Maggie exchanged perplexed glances. “Why not?” Libby answered. Ana’s gown shimmered with silver threads while Libby wore a long, dusty-rose sheath. She’d also worn her long hair down and softly curled. Once they’d switched gowns, all she had to do was bend over to fluff her hair, and when she stood, she could easily pass for Ana at a casual glance.
“We do know an excellent private detective, if you’d like a reference,” Libby offered.
Ana gave Libby’s arm a fond squeeze. “Thank you, but no. I’ll send your gown to the beach house Monday, and the deliveryman can pick up mine. Give me five minutes to find a taxi before you return to your own table.”
“I saw where you were seated,” Libby replied. “Maggie, we came in together. Why don’t you walk Ana out, and she’ll be mistaken for me.”
Maggie sent a quick glance at the mirror and curled her long pageboy behind her ear. “Fine, let’s go.”
Ana took a deep breath. “You keep talking, Maggie, and I’ll keep my head down as though I were following closely.”
Libby let them go, counted to ten and left the restroom as several women entered. She raised her hand to shade her face as she made her way through the maze of tables and slid into Ana’s place. Dessert had just been served, and her companions were exclaiming over the raspberry mousse cupped in a chocolate shell. She took a bite.
“Oh, this is good.”