A Model Spy

“There’s not much in it, is there? Nothing except for the stock you’ve gotten for Christmases and birthdays,” he remarked. “You don’t get control of the trust fund until you’re thirty and I’m pretty sure you haven’t saved any of your family allowance.”

“There’s the money my mother left her,” her mother put in quickly.

“That wasn’t enough to cover Vanessa’s clothing allowance for more than a few years,” her father countered.

Normally, it would be true, but Vanessa had plans for independence that went a long way towards helping her pass up on that extra pair of designer shoes or the latest bag. “Actually, I used some of the family allowance toward the Gotham Roses and for schooling and living expenses.” Using the condo she’d inherited from her grandmother as her home, she’d tied the inherited funds into investments that she used to pay the taxes. Accepting the ginger ale from Robert and thanking him, she spoke up for herself.

Newfound respect crept into her father’s eyes. “Good. I parlayed less into enough of a fortune to win the business over your Uncle Marvin.”

Having heard the particular story of how he made his wealth more times than she cared to count, Vanessa held her breath. Her mother rolled her eyes. Relief came from an unlikely source. Dressed in a pink tank and crinkled silk miniskirt, Michelle burst into the room, interrupting her father’s lecture. A couple of pages of the newspaper dangled from Michelle’s fingers and her gaze skewered Vanessa.

“Michelle, how many times have I told you, it’s not ladylike to run about the house?” Lonette Dawson’s voice carried an edge.

“Sorry, Mama. I’ll try to remember next time. I was just so excited about what I read in the Rubi Cho In the Know column in today’s New York Reporter. She says that the ink on the contract is almost dry and the most memorable sweetheart from the Sweetheart Dreams Catalog is coming back to star in the Inside Sports swimsuit edition.” With a hand on one hip, Michelle turned accusing eyes on Vanessa. “That’s you, isn’t it, Vanessa? Are you going to be in the Inside Sports swimsuit edition?”

Vanessa had signed the contract only yesterday. How had Rubi Cho gotten wind of it so quickly? For the second time that evening, her voice stuck in her throat. “I—I—” She cleared her throat. There was nothing to do but own up to it. “Yes. I was going to announce it after dinner,” she admitted, facing her family with her head up and her shoulders squared. “Keifer Jonas, the photographer who did several of my most famous shots, asked me personally,” she lied. “They’re paying a lot of money that I can put in my portfolio and it’s a really good opportunity. I’ll be back before next semester starts. Mom, Dad, I—I just couldn’t pass it up.”

Brows drawing together like thunderclouds, her father’s eyes sparked with anger. “Vanessa, I thought that phase of your life was over. The last thing this family needs is our version of Paris Hilton in the limelight. It’s time to think of starting a family or helping expand the family business. Aren’t you getting a little old for modeling?”

Vanessa winced, his words burning her like acid.

“Mannie…” Lonette’s soft voice halted her husband’s tirade. She moved over to Vanessa on the couch and took her hand. “We’re concerned about you, Vanessa. We certainly have enough money that you don’t have to work. You know that, and your father doesn’t ask that much in return. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, and I’m not planning to do anything to make headlines or embarrass the family,” Vanessa answered, her voice confident.

“I’m still remembering ninety-five percent of your body on display in a popular magazine, and the gossip headlines when you were a minor, having an affair with the head of that modeling agency. And what about the wild parties and the boyfriend-turned-stalker? I can’t see you doing anything without attracting headlines,” her father said, snapping his fingers and reaching for the paper still dangling from Michelle’s hand.

Vanessa cringed. Who but her father could dismiss her life with such negativity?

“What about me?” Michelle asked, giving her father the paper. “I want to go into modeling, too. People my age model all the time. I could go down on location with Vanessa and make some contacts—”

“Michelle, we’ve already had this discussion,” Lonette said, regarding her daughter sternly. “That’s not the sort of life we want for you.”

Steeped in déjà vu, Vanessa knew how Michelle felt. The life her parents demanded was comparable to a padded cell.

Right now though, with her current assignment and what she knew about the modeling world, she was glad her parents were keeping Michelle out of it. She couldn’t stand the thought of Michelle going through all that she had.

“You guys never let me do anything!” Michelle whined. Tears filled her eyes. “When Vanessa started—”

Manfred Dawson’s heavy voice cut through her objections. “Michelle, the answer is no. Don’t ask again.”

Just then, Robert appeared in the doorway to announce dinner, and as the family headed for the dining room, a pouting Michelle ran off to her room.

Vanessa sat through a strained, awkward dinner with her parents. Her appetite gone, she pushed grilled salmon with creamed dill sauce, stir-fried green beans and a twice-baked potato around on her plate.

Her father frowned every time he looked at her. It was a silent reproach. Nothing she said reached him. She found herself wondering, when had he ever smiled at her and been supportive? Only when she did as he dictated. He wanted a puppet, not a daughter.

Her mother chattered on about things—the next ball, the garden club meeting and her church work. When her gaze met Vanessa’s there was a sort of desperation in her eyes. Lonette really hated discord among her family. After an initial effort to resolve things, her usual solution was to try to act as if nothing had happened and hope it would go away. It never worked.

Vanessa refused the crème brûlée dessert and got ready to leave. She loved her parents, but she had a job to do. A job she couldn’t tell them about.

Before she left, Vanessa stopped by Michelle’s room to talk and try to smooth things over. At first, Michelle was too angry to say much, but when she heard that Vanessa was leaving for Miami in the morning, she turned red-rimmed eyes on her sister and said, “I thought you said that you’d never go back, that it was full of nothing but bad memories?”

Vanessa nodded. “I did, and I meant it, but I have something important to do. I’m not just going back to model, I’m going back to do something for a friend and I gave my word.”

“What are you going to do?” Michelle asked, curiosity in her eyes as she searched Vanessa’s face. “You can tell me.”

Vanessa knew better than to play this game. “No, I can’t. Just take my word for it.”

Michelle’s eyes sparkled with tears. “You’re going to leave me here with them. Let me come with you! I won’t be any trouble. I know how to take care of myself.”

Nothing was further from the truth. Smoothing her sister’s hair, Vanessa leaned in and hugged her. “I can’t. They’d disown me if I did that.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Michelle said. “Daddy keeps taking away the money and you still keep doing what you want.”

Vanessa met her sister’s gaze. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I do keep doing what I have to do. I’m an adult. Daddy thinks he knows what’s best for me, but he’s lived his life and made his own decisions. Do you see? I’ve got to do what I think is best, even if it’s a mistake.”

Michelle’s next question haunted Vanessa all the way back to her condo. “Is this modeling job a mistake?”

Vanessa left New York on a morning flight to Miami. There, she picked up the red Jag convertible they’d leased for her. Afterward, she followed the leasing agent’s directions to her new condo on Ocean Drive.

As the concierge unloaded her luggage and the valet accepted her keys, Vanessa studied the building where the models had been killed. The large, three-story structure was big enough to guarantee some privacy, but nothing like the high-rises that dotted Ocean Drive. Part of the building was set in a lush, tropical garden, the rest on the beach.

A blue-uniformed man opened the lobby door and Vanessa stepped into the building wearing Seven for All Mankind custom jeans made to fit her curvy butt just right and a lilac silk tank top. Her heels clicked as she crossed a marbled lobby to stop at the service desk and get directions to her condo. Minutes later, she was back outside in the hot sun, rounding the building to stop in front of her unit.

A tall blonde in dark glasses, swim shorts and a bikini top came out of the next unit and pulled the door shut. “Moving in?” she asked, smiling.

Recognizing one of the models to be photographed for Inside Sports, Vanessa returned the smile. “Yes. I’m Vanessa. How are you?”

“Right now, I’m just getting started on the fun.” The blonde pushed the sunglasses down her nose to peer at Vanessa. “Your hazel eyes…I thought I recognized you. You’re Vanessa Dawson, aren’t you?”

Flattered, Vanessa felt her smile widen. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m Annika LaVatia, fellow model on the Inside Sports project.” She moved closer. “Welcome to Miami! You’ll love this place. It’s got everything a girl could want.”

“Really?” Vanessa let the question hang in the air, wondering if “everything” included drugs.

“Oh yeah,” Annika bubbled on, “I love having my own town house and still being able to get room service, and the waiters bringing the food are hot. Add that you’re just steps from the beach, and you can’t beat the security. Then there’s a bunch of restaurants close by.”

“It sounds like a dream.” Vanessa fitted her key into the lock. “There’s only one thing that could turn this into a nightmare…”

“I can’t imagine a thing,” Annika said, flipping back a long strand of hair.

“Well, I heard about some models getting killed in a condo on Ocean Drive,” Vanessa said cautiously. “A friend of mine insists that this is the place.”

“Oh.” Annika’s voice dropped a few octaves. “This is the place,” she reluctantly admitted.

“But not the same unit?” Vanessa let a note of fear creep into her voice.

“Lord, no. That unit was ripped apart. Besides, it’s closer to the beach and it has to be redecorated.” Annika looked uncomfortable. “Look, Vanessa, I’m not worried about the same thing happening to me. It’s not as if we’ve got a serial killer hanging out here, waiting to murder models. Those girls were wild and into some heavy stuff. They knew some bad people, too. Maybe they just pissed off the wrong guys.”

“Maybe.” Vanessa’s jaw snapped shut. It was hard not to give in to the righteous anger growing inside of her and tell Annika that no one deserved to die the way Gena and Bianca had.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Vanessa.” Annika was obviously through with the subject. She pushed her sunglasses back up on her nose. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Annika strolled off toward the beach, leaving Vanessa wondering if she should have pushed for more information.

Unlocking the door, she stepped onto the oak hardwood floor of an entryway that opened onto an expansive room with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a sun-filled view of the beach. Tearing her gaze away, she took in modular white chairs and a white Novak sofa, with oak accents dotting the room. The Chablis table set blended in to create vivid and bold lines. She loved this condo already and was looking forward to seeing the rest of it.

The sparkle of sun off the blue water drew Vanessa’s gaze. It reminded her of her family’s estate on a private beach in Jamaica. She saw Annika stroll up to a woman sunning herself in a yellow string bikini and lean down to talk. The other woman sat up. Then both women turned to look in Vanessa’s direction. A chill ran through her as she stepped away from the window. Had she already given herself away?

Chapter 4

Vanessa gave the French Double Slipper Tub in the master bath a longing glance as she used the chinabowl sink on top of the fancy wrought-iron stand. The inviting tub was built for two, but she saw herself relaxing in it alone with a glass of wine and scented candles.

Her face clean, she applied a fresh layer of natural-looking makeup and worked with her hair until it fell past her shoulders in artful disarray. Rummaging through her luggage, she found a white pair of slacks and a light, cotton camisole made of ragged, woven strips of colored fabric. The single gold button on the front hit just below her breasts and left a tantalizing strip of her skin bare. She spritzed it with a dash of cologne. As Vanessa stepped into a pair of Jimmy Choo print slides she added a small Jimmy Choo hobo bag.

Outside, it had grown hotter. In the interest of saving time, Vanessa took a taxi to the trendy Nemo restaurant, with its interactive food bar, dining room and other areas, including the terrace, garden and courtyard. She took a seat at the table that had been reserved in the Loggia, an environmentally controlled area that opened to the garden.

The place was filled with wrought-iron furnishings and modern hanging lamps. All around her, Miami’s beautiful denizens chatted, people watched and presumably closed deals. The menu featured several eclectic items with Asian influence. Vanessa decided on wok-charred salmon with roasted pumpkin seeds. Then she ordered a glass of chardonnay and settled in to wait for Mackenzie.

She finally spotted him striding through the entrance of the restaurant in flax-colored slacks and a short-sleeved designer print shirt. The expensive-looking digital camera he’d gotten from Alan dangled from a strap on his shoulder. Several women turned to check him out. Vanessa waved to show him where she was seated. Nodding, he approached the table.

“Sorry if I’m a little late,” he murmured as he took his seat. “I stopped by the office to take care of a few things.”

“Actually you’re right on time,” she answered, noting the way he gave her the once-over. She felt like asking, Do I pass? At least that sour look was gone from his face.

His gaze lingered on the skin left bare by her top and then fast-forwarded to her face with what seemed a determination to be businesslike. “Did you order?”

She tapped her menu with a raspberry-colored nail. “I waited for you.”

“Didn’t see anything you liked? If you’d like to go somewhere more exclusive…”

“This place is fine,” she answered in surprise. “And it’s full of models, tourists and businesspeople. Is the food bad?”

“The food is great.” The sour look returned to his face. “I just thought the place might not be up to your usual standards.”

“You think I’m a snob.” She’d spoken without thinking first, but it explained the sour expression, the curling lip in New York.

“Aren’t you?” He kept his tone even, but the look in his eyes made it clear that he didn’t like her.

“No, I’m not.” Vanessa gritted her teeth. “You don’t know me, Agent Mackenzie, so stop trying to make assumptions. My background might be different from yours, but I’ve been trained. I know what I’m doing and I’m good at it. If it’s too difficult for you to be pleasant on a personal level, try to be professional about us working together.”

Annoyance darkened his eyes as he leaned forward over the table. “The last thing I need to do my job is a bored modeling heiress trying to amuse herself by playing secret-agent games.”

Vanessa parried that comment with a smile. Mackenzie definitely had his briefs in a bunch. This was not an assignment she’d wanted and he knew it. “Apparently our bosses don’t agree. Besides, you know that I had to be convinced to even take this on.”

“True—” He was interrupted by the waitress, who had suddenly appeared at their table.

As the waitress bustled off to fill their order, Vanessa asked, “Do you know why I do what I do, Mackenzie? It’s not about being rich when so many people are poor. It’s about good and evil. Evil is kicking the shit out of good people, and if we don’t take a stand and get out and do something about it, no one’s going to be able to live on this earth.”

He pinned her with his gaze, righteousness simmering in the depths of his brown eyes. “You haven’t seen evil. Not in the world you come from. I wasn’t raised in the projects or the streets, but we were very poor. My parents scraped and worked hard for everything they got. The strong preyed on the weak. All around me people tried to escape the misery with drugs, booze and gangs. I do what I do because I understand, and I know I can make a difference.”

“And you don’t think we have the same goals?” Vanessa asked, suddenly aware of the urgency that had crept into her voice. There was no getting through to this man. Her jaw was so tight she could feel a vibration in her teeth.

Mackenzie expelled a noisy breath but didn’t answer. When his glance swept over her clothes and exposed skin once more, her hands formed fists.

“So what is your plan for this assignment?” Vanessa asked. She wasn’t going to let him distract her from her goal.

Mackenzie shrugged. “Until we get some leads, it’s pretty much talking to people and getting next to them.”

She wasn’t stupid. “Yes, but first we need to know who Gena and Bianca’s friends were and who they were hanging out with.” Listening to Mackenzie, Vanessa wished she were working this mission alone.

“You’re stating the obvious,” he said frankly.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and counted to ten. If she had to argue with him about every little thing, what good was he?

Their drinks came and Mackenzie took a long swallow out of his.

“I met Annika LeVatia, one of the other models on the shoot, as I was moving in,” she said, trying another tack. “When I told her I was concerned about being in the same building where the models had been killed, she tried to shift the blame to Gena and Bianca because they were wild, knew some bad people and had probably pissed somebody off.”

“And?” Mackenzie put his glass back on the table.

“And I got a weird vibe from her. I think she knows more. My credentials may be different from yours, Mackenzie, but I’ve got very good instincts when it comes to people.” That’s how I already know you’re a narrow-minded ass.

He perked up, drew a little notebook and ink pen from his pocket and made a few notes. “Annika has been staying there for about a year. There’s a good chance she does know something we could use. I’ll keep an eye on her, too.” His gaze turned inward. “Let me know if you come up with anything.”

Not trusting herself to say more, she sipped her chardonnay, certain she should have ordered something stronger.

Mackenzie flipped to the front of his notebook. “While I was in the office I put in some time researching and correlating the airplane trips that Gena and Bianca have taken in the past three or four months. There’s a steady pattern of visits to the Bahamas, Jamaica and the Virgin Islands. I’ve already contacted their charge card companies and ordered copies of their charges for that period.”

“Good,” she commented. “Let me know if you come up with anything.”

His head came up and their gazes locked combatively. Neither looked away until the waitress arrived with their food. It was delicious. Fortunately, Vanessa had sense enough to eat only half. The other half she had the waitress pack to go.

She watched Mackenzie eat double-chocolate cheesecake while she nibbled at fresh fruit compote. Her stomach whined. Embarrassed, she hoped he would ignore it.

Mackenzie glanced up, licking the chocolate off his full bottom lip. “Still hungry?”

She set her back against her chair, trying to convince herself that there was nothing erotic about what he was doing. “I have to watch what I eat.”

“There’s plenty here if you’d like to taste some of this,” he offered.

Sizing him up, she wondered whether he was really trying to be nice, or trying to make her feel bad about having to starve herself to stay thin for the camera. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she managed to say. She couldn’t eat any of it. Being hungry all the time was one of the things she’d hated about being a model.

Vanessa drank all her water and signaled the waitress for more. It helped fill some of the empty space in her stomach.

“When do we start shooting the swimsuit fantasies?” she asked.

“Day after tomorrow, so get some sleep.”

Inside, Vanessa bristled. Was he trying to say she looked tired?

“The shooting schedule should be in your welcome packet at the condo,” he added.

“Are you doing all of my shots?” she asked, wondering how good he was. Having been away from the industry for more than two years, she hadn’t heard of Mackenzie. Her friend Keifer Jonas, the senior photographer on the magazine project, had an excellent reputation and a portfolio to die for.

Mackenzie’s glance swept over her once more. This time it was purely professional. “I’ve got about a third of your beach and studio time. Keifer has the rest.”

“Any ideas?” She had to ask. Now that she’d come back to modeling, a lot of her future depended on the success of this magazine shoot.

“There are a couple of suits that specific designers sent down just for you. That’ll determine a lot about the setting, hair and makeup.”

Checking the food bill, she reached inside her bag for money.

“I make enough to pay for lunch,” Mackenzie snapped, reaching for the bill.

“This wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting,” she reminded him. “Loosen up, Mackenzie.” She put a fifty in the leather wallet with the bill to cover her food and glass of wine.

He dug a hundred and a twenty out of his pocket. Opening the leather wallet, he drew her fifty out and placed it on the table.

“Oh, grow up!” Vanessa pushed her chair away from the table and stood. With a clicking of her heels, she headed for the exit.

Outside, Mackenzie caught up with her. “Wait, Vanessa,” he said. “Look, somehow you bring out the worst in me.”

“I could say the same,” she shot back. In her heels, she was nearly as tall as he was. Facing him, she could feel the tension simmering between them.

“Let me drop you off,” he said, dangling a set of keys. “It’ll take a while to get a taxi.”

She wanted to say no. She’d had enough of Mackenzie, but common sense prevailed.

When he drove out of the parking lot in a metallic red BMW Z4 convertible, she was glad she’d relented. He didn’t complain when she asked him to put the top up to preserve her hairstyle, but a question still occupied her mind. Would she be able to work with him, or would she have to work around him?

* * *

Cody was nearly finished with his work in the photography studio when he got the call from Annika. There was a get-together at her complex this evening and she wanted him to come spend time with her, unwind and meet her friends. He seized the opportunity to mingle and check out the condo crowd. He wondered why Vanessa hadn’t told him about the party, but since they were still wrestling with being partners, he let it go.

At seven o’clock that evening, Cody entered Ocean Air, the complex’s restaurant. The buzz of conversation filled the place. It had been decorated to resemble a deck on a cruise ship with oak paneling everywhere and large, port-hole-shaped windows offering breathtaking views of the ocean. Several people sat on lounge furniture and captains’ chairs off to one side of the restaurant and bar. The rest stood in convenient spots and talked while holding drinks.

Cody waded into the crowd of residents that included corporate executives, lawyers, a couple of B-list movie stars and several models. He was glad he’d worn the more expensive Sean John outfit. The dress was mostly business casual, but it was the high-quality designer stuff.

He scanned the faces for people they’d discussed at the briefing and saw none. He didn’t see Vanessa, either. Annika was deep in conversation with two women on the far side of the room. As he started toward her, one of the models latched on to his arm and started chattering in his ear about the magazine shoot.