Alejandro doubted it. “I’ll be there.” He ended the call and quickly wished he’d been too busy to go anywhere tomorrow except to see Ana.
The Mediterranean Goddess was a modern cruise ship booked months in advance for luxury cruises in Greek waters. In port for a week between voyages, it was the perfect location for a magazine spread on resort wear. The designer, a petite woman named Lee-Lee, knew the owner of the cruise line, and Orlando Ortiz met them as they came on board.
“Please let us know if there is anything you need,” he announced graciously. “My staff is at your disposal. I recognize most of you from your photos, but it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Ana returned his smile, but when his glance remained on her a moment too long, she grew uneasy. He was an attractive man, perhaps in his fifties, but she trusted her intuition, and the intensity of his gaze worried her. She was relieved when he didn’t remain on deck to watch the shoot.
Ana always found working with Lee-Lee amusing. The designer insisted upon overseeing every detail of hair and makeup and emphasized her directions with whirling gestures that frequently made everyone duck. Teresa used her magic with makeup and hair to transform the models into flawless beauties and handsome hunks despite Lee-Lee’s interference. When Armand was ready to shoot, they were all dressed in their first outfits.
Gian Carlo Maxim was one of men working that day. He gave Ana a begrudging nod, and just for spite, she responded with a dazzling smile. He was dressed in a ship’s officer’s white uniform, and she posed with him in a bright red bikini with red stiletto heels. With false eyelashes, her hair blown by Robert holding a portable fan, she stood at the rail and leaned against Gian Carlo, posed as every man’s dream of a vacation lover.
She saw Orlando Ortiz approach out of the corner of her eye but didn’t glance his way until Armand gave them a break.
“Miss Santillan,” Ortiz called. “How pretty you are in red. Do you have a minute? I’d like you to meet my son.”
When Alejandro stepped out from behind his father, she couldn’t have been more surprised, but she was delighted to see him, even in her full Ana Santillan regalia with copper eye shadow and false eyelashes that were longer than a giraffe’s. It was a secret she wanted to let go. Smiling widely, she took a step toward him, but he swept her with a disgusted glance, turned on his heel and stalked away. Orlando regarded her with a vicious smirk, clearly enormously pleased with the difficult scene he’d created. Instantly sure he’d been the one who’d hired a detective to follow her, she disliked him all the more. The models and crew on the deck had all fallen silent, but the noise of the port was only slightly louder than her wildly beating heart.
“What have you done?” she asked.
“Why nothing at all, Miss Santillan. I just wanted my son to meet you, but apparently you two are already acquainted.”
Gian Carlo moved up behind her. “What’s going on?”
Orlando Ortiz strutted away. Ana wouldn’t chase him along the deck in a bikini, and she’d no idea where Alejandro might have gone. “I’m not sure, but I’ll straighten it out when we’re finished.” Everyone gaped at her, including Lee-Lee, but this wasn’t the time for a lengthy description of her love life. “What’s next, Armand?”
“Do you need a minute?” the photographer asked.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She just wanted the shoot over with quickly so she could see Alejandro and straighten out whatever hideous mess his father had created for them.
“Why did Orlando’s son leave?” Lee-Lee asked. “We could use a beautiful young man with his dark brooding looks in the evening-wear scenes.”
“I can be as brooding as you need,” Gian Carlo quickly offered, and regarded the designer with a threatening glare.
Lee-Lee sighed. “I guess that will have to do. I want the other girls with Gian Carlo now. Wave as though you were telling someone good-bye on the dock.”
Ana changed into her next outfit, and Teresa touched up her makeup, but Lee-Lee changed her mind about which girls she wanted in which clothes and Ana had to dress again. She stopped looking at the time, but it was late afternoon before they finished and rode back to the advertising agency’s office. She went straight home from there to shower and dress. Fatima nearly danced around her, asking questions.
“Why are you in such a hurry? Just call the man and tell him you need more time. I’m sure he won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late for your date.”
“We don’t have a date, and I need to speak with him in person, Fatima.”
“Oh, there’s a problem? The weekend didn’t go well?”
“The weekend went beautifully, or at least Saturday night did. I won’t explain today’s mess until I’ve solved it. Good-bye. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”
Fatima picked up the kittens so they’d not be stepped on as Ana left, but she put them down quickly before they licked her fingers with their rough little tongues.
Ana’s knock on Alejandro’s door brought only a hollow echo. She pressed her ear against the wood, but there was no trace of life behind the door. She sat down at the top of the stairs and pulled her book from her bag, prepared to wait as long as it took for him to come home. When she heard his step on the stairs, she jammed her book in her bag and leaped up to face him.
He stopped when he reached the landing below her. He looked no happier than he’d been on board the Mediterranean Goddess. His deep voice held a low, growling threat. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Why not?” she countered.
He came on up the stairs and went around her to lean against his door. “How much did my father pay you to date me?”
Insulted clear to the bone, she clenched her fists. “I’d never met him before today, and I don’t work as a paid escort. We met by chance. I didn’t stalk you.”