She had trimmed her hair herself and conditioned it. After half an hour in hot curlers she hung her head down and brushed it vigorously. When she flung her head back, her hair fell into a full mane that framed her face and rippled over her shoulders.
Her nails were still short, but she had manicured them carefully and polished them with a frosted coral shade that matched her lip gloss.
Her complexion glowed after the facial she had treated it to. The olive skin tone was deepened to an even richer hue by her tan. She hadn’t lost her knack for applying makeup. The cosmetics weren’t obvious, but the effect she deftly created was startling. With her hair full and brushed away from her face, her cheekbones were prominently displayed.
It was an exotic face that reminded one of a pagan priestess. Blatantly sensual. A face that had a love affair with any camera.
The limo cruised to a halt in front of the River Oaks mansion, where the party was being held. The chauffeur came around to help her out. Clutching her small white, rhinestone-studded bag, she accepted his extended hand. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“My pleasure, Miss Ramsey. Have an enjoyable evening.”
The summer twilight was warm and balmy, heavily scented with blooming gardenias and magnolias. But the soft, humid air was only one reason her skin felt damp. She was nervous.
Behind a temporary rope barricade, representatives of the media trampled a low boxwood hedge as they clamored for photographs of arriving Mustangs team members and guests.
Shoulders back, head straight, swan neck arched, Rana swept past them. Someone whistled. “Jeez, who does she belong to?” The speaker was a sports reporter. He didn’t recognize her. But the society reporter standing next to him did.
“Hurry,” she instructed her photographer excitedly. “Take some pictures. Quick, before she gets inside.”
“Who is she?” asked the curious sports reporter.
“Rana, you fool. Don’t you ever read anything but Sports Illustrated? Come to think of it, she was featured in their swimsuit edition a few years ago.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember now. She’s a famous model, isn’t she?”
“The tops.”
“What’s she doing here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. She hasn’t been seen in public for months. The rumor was she’d gotten fat, or something.”
“Every woman should be so fat,” he said, leering.
Rana had overheard enough of the conversation to know that her cover was blown. The die was cast. Whatever the outcome, it was out of her hands now. She didn’t care what anyone else thought or said about her. How would Trent react?
She glided up the front steps of the colonial-style house. standing just inside the front door was a distinguished- looking white-haired couple, whom Rana recognized as the owners of the Houston Mustangs football team. They were talking to Tom Tandy.
She paused for a moment before continuing forward. Tom saw her out of the corner of his eye. He did a double take. In typically male fashion, his eyes slid down, then back up.
“Hello, Tom,” she said softly. Her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear over the loud music and raucous conversation.
His eyes swung up to hers. Stupefied, he responded with a mumbled, “Hi.” He made room for her beside the team’s owners, who were looking at her curiously and obviously awaiting an introduction.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, I’d like you to meet, uh, Miss, uh, Ms…
It was apparent that Tom didn’t recognize her, so she spared him further embarrassment. “I’m Rana,” she said, extending her hand.
Mr. Harrison shook it, stunned speechless, as most men were upon meeting her for the first time. Mrs. Harrison, however, smiled graciously and said, “What an honor to have you in our home, Rana. That is a stunning dress.”
“Thank you.”
“Tom, why don’t you get Rana something to drink?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. You want to, uh…” He nodded toward the bar, indicating that she should move in that direction with him. He didn’t touch her. She thanked the Harrisons for the party and left them to greet the other guests who were filing in. As he shouldered his way through the crowd, Tom stared at her in bewilderment, trying to figure out how this beautiful creature knew him. Why didn’t he remember ever meeting her? He’d never been that drunk!
“‘Rana,’ you say?”
“Yes, but I was introduced to you as Ana. In Galveston. A few weeks ago. Have you seen Trent? Is he here yet?”
Tom stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth fell open as though hinged at the jaw. He gripped Rana’s shoulders in his large hands and stared down at her. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He repeated that several times, then threw back his head and howled with laughter. “That sonofa-. Wait till I get my hands on him. He’s played some rotten jokes on me, but this one is the big granddaddy. That… that… Boy, did he ever put one over on me. And you too! You were in on it, right? Lord have mercy, I wouldn’t have recognized you in a million years.”
“It wasn’t a joke, exactly. You see, I-”
She spotted Trent.
He was standing several yards away, chatting companionably with several of his teammates-linemen, if their size was any indication. They towered over Trent, but to Rana, he was the most impressive man in the room.
His dark hair was as carelessly styled as ever, curling over his ears and collar. His tanned face contrasted appealingly with his white shirt. Only Trent could get by with wearing such closely fitted white trousers. They were perfectly tailored to his narrow buttocks and trim thighs. The fit of his navy blazer was impeccable.
As he laughed, his teeth flashed brilliantly. His brown eyes, which kept glancing toward the front door, were shining with excitement and expectation.
Rana’s heart ached with love for him. She wanted to continue staring at him for a long time, prolonging the inevitable. But it had to happen. Only seconds after she’d spotted him his eyes scanned the crowd and came to a stop on her.
Trent, like his friend before him, did a double take when he saw the dazzling woman in white. She had dark red hair, skin that looked as lustrous as marble and as delicious as a ripe peach, eyes that spoke volumes, and a figure that made him think she might not be real.
Feeling a sharp pang of guilt for the sudden pounding of his heart, he tore his eyes away from her. Where was Ana?
The woman’s eyes compelled him to go back for one more look. She was still staring at him. He acknowledged her interest with a slight nod. Her lips parted in a hesitant smile. He noticed then that her front teeth overlapped a little, but they certainly didn’t detract-
Rana knew the moment recognition dawned in Trent. She saw realization break across his face as visibly as ink spilled on white paper. Disbelief was the first expression she read there, then gladness. He even elbowed his way past a monstrous tackle and took a step toward her. She experienced one blissful moment of pure joy before the expression she had dreaded appeared on his features.
The wide smile, there only a fleeting second ago, disappeared abruptly. His eyes went from shining warmth to glittering coldness. Even his body changed. It became stiff and rigid, as though he had snapped to attention.
She watched him turn angrily on his heel and shove his way through the crowd. The partygoers around them, unaware of the drama unfolding in their midst, were still drinking, eating, celebrating.
“Say, I don’t get it,” Tom said as Rana set out after Trent. “What’s wrong with him? What’s going on?”