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Ana unpacked her bag and tossed her clothes in the hamper. “If you were taking dinner home to Bruno, what would you buy?”
“He’ll eat anything, so I’d buy whatever I felt like eating, and he’d eat it too. Why do you ask?”
She wouldn’t twist the truth with her longtime housekeeper. “I’ve met an architecture student I like, and he got scraped up in a bicycle accident.?
?
Fatima had a sparkling laugh. “So you’re taking dinner to a sick friend?”
“You could say that, and I’ve never done it. I’m not certain where to begin.”
“Make it a picnic and take a big meaty sandwich for him, and a bag of vegetables for yourself. He’d probably rather have beer than wine.”
“I suppose.” She knew exactly where to buy a sandwich he’d like and would call ahead to have it ready when she stopped by. “Thank you for everything. Take Monday off if you’d like.”
Fatima closed the lid on the washer and turned the dial. “I just came back from vacation, Ana.”
“So what? I’ve been gone a couple of days, so the place is clean, and you’ve taken care of the cats.”
“May I save the day for a time I really need it?”
“Of course. Put ‘day off’ on a Post-it and stick it on the edge of my calendar so we don’t forget.”
“I’ll do it. Tell me one thing, Ana. I’m sure your student is a very nice young man, but is he sophisticated enough for you?”
Despite a slightly raised brow, Fatima was sneaking up on an obvious problem rather than asking if she’d lost her mind. “He has no idea who I am. I’m easing him into it. He’s a grown man, not a kid anyway.”
“I won’t say another word.” Fatima gathered up the laundry, and Ana didn’t follow.
As Ana soaked in the tub, she fought not to panic over the evening. She was a natural blonde, and waist-length hair suited her well as a model, but a photographer would tie her hair back or wear it in a single braid. Deciding on the latter, she asked Fatima to braid her hair before she left for home.
“Let’s leave a few loose strands around your face so you don’t look like a peeled grape,” Fatima suggested. She stood back to admire her work. “Looks good. You have a good time tonight.”
“Thank you. I’m sure we will.” At least she hoped so.
She liked wearing white shirts with slim blue jeans. She added only a couple of coats of mascara; her brows were dark enough on their own. A pale lip gloss made her look too sweet for her tastes, but she didn’t want to shock Alejandro too badly.
Before leaving, she fed the kittens and corralled them in the guest bathroom. Gathering her courage, she drove her Porsche to El Gato to pick up their dinner and parked the car around the block from Alejandro’s studio. Fearing she was imagining more problems than she actually had, she carried their dinner bag up the stairs.
Alejandro opened the door on her first knock. He stared at her, looked much too closely and then broke into a wide grin. “You’re even prettier than you were.” He reached for her waist and pulled her into a loving hug. “You disappear so often, I don’t want to let you go.”
“I’m here,” she assured him. She patted his back, felt the muscles play under her fingertips and found his strength wonderfully reassuring. When he dropped his arms, she didn’t back away. Barefoot, he wore a knit shirt and shorts rather than attempt to hide the bruises and scrapes running along his right side, but when he turned toward the table, he limped. She was certain he’d been hurt worse than he’d admit. “Do you fall off your bike often?”
“No, thank God.” He’d cleared the end of his worktable and made brown paper placemats. He had laid out napkins and utensils and had pulled up two chairs. “I’d just like to look at you for a while. Do you mind if we wait to eat?”
“Not at all.” She stowed the café bag in his nearly bare refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. “I like looking at you too. We ought to sit down, though. Do you want to use the futon?”
He took her hand and walked her to it. He lowered himself slowly, and she sat on his left side, stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles.
“It’s nice to see you in something other than black.”
She drank a sip of water and licked her lips. “Thank you. Tell me what you’ve been doing all week.”
He reached for the water bottle and took a drink. “Classes, projects that have to be completed on time, nothing fun at all. I’ve been to Palma. I wish I could have been there with you.”
“Me too.” She couldn’t believe he’d eyed her so closely and not thought she at least looked familiar. Looking forward to the night, she wouldn’t admit anything he didn’t see, however.
He set the bottle aside and laced his fingers in hers. “Tell me about the shoot. Did it go well?”
