Natalie Dunbar - A Model Spy

Alan glanced back at Mackenzie. “Not at the moment, but I’d love the chance to whip something up just for him.”

Vanessa stared. Had Alan just made a pass at Mackenzie? Hostile elements colored Mackenzie’s expression as he met Alan’s gaze.

Damn, tough break for Alan. Vanessa had instinctively known that Mackenzie was straight. She cleared her throat. “Thanks again, Alan. We’d better see what Kristi’s got for us.”

Mackenzie thanked Alan. Then he and Vanessa made their exit. Outside the room, Mackenzie rolled his shoulders and said just under his breath, “Your Alan’s got a little sugar in his tank.”

Vanessa hated all the euphemisms used to describe men like Alan. Her gaze hardened. “If you mean he’s gay, yes, but he’s never tried to force it on anyone.”

“And how would you know?”

“We don’t just work together. Alan is a friend,” she said, steel creeping into her tone.

Acknowledging her statement with a nod of his head, Mackenzie fell quiet as they made their way to Kristi’s office.

Vanessa introduced the agent to Kristi—adding that she was Alan’s sister, in case Mackenzie planned to make any more comments about him—and they sat down.

Kristi opened a leather file and drew out a list and a set of color pictures. “For this assignment I selected items that go with the clothes you have, but I tried to pump you up a little more,” she told Vanessa. “You already have fabulous instincts when it comes to fashion. This time, you want to make more of a statement and get the right kind of attention.”

Vanessa liked clothes. It was one of the things that had made her enjoy modeling. She looked at the first designer outfit. It was a slinky, sexy white DooRi wrap dress. Vanessa flipped through the rest of the file, her smile growing. Kristi had included items from a number of her favorite designers, including bustier dresses and silk camisoles from Dolce & Gabbana, classic but sexy gowns from Versace, Vera Wang, Valentino couture, Prada, Manolo Blahnik, and Jimmy Choo. Just about ready to swoon with satisfaction, she turned to Kristi.

“Thanks, I love this wardrobe!”

“I thought you would.” Kristi beamed back at her, something just short of envy in her eyes. She loved clothes just as much as Vanessa did. Sometimes the two of them went to fashion shows together.

Drawing another folder from the leather file, Kristi handed it to Mackenzie. “Agent Mackenzie, as the photographer on this project, your wardrobe makes much less of a statement. I’ve been told that you prefer casual wear. Therefore, I’ve put together a wardrobe centered on relaxed easy wear by Sean John and Fubu. For dress, I added a couple of Ralph Lauren suits, and a tuxedo from his Mister shop. For shoes, Nike Air Force Ones, Johnston & Murphy slip-ons, and Prada dress shoes. What do you think?”

“Fine by me.”

“I like the colors you chose for Agent Mackenzie,” Vanessa added. “They highlight his skin tone.”

Mackenzie looked at Vanessa with thinly veiled surprise, or perhaps annoyance. She had a feeling he didn’t appreciate her input on his wardrobe. She met his gaze squarely, intuitively aware that working with him meant she’d have to earn his respect and fight for equal footing.

But first, she’d have to loosen him up.

Tired from a late night out with her friends, Vanessa dragged herself out of bed at eleven the next morning and began to pack the clothes Kristi had sent over. The rest would be shipped to her new apartment in Miami.

After giving her word to Renee and signing the magazine contract, Vanessa was prepared to go through with the assignment, no matter what. As she showered and got ready for an early dinner at her parents’ home, she rehearsed how she would tell her father that she was going back into modeling. She was an adult, already twenty-seven, and her career choice shouldn’t be his business, but she knew he wouldn’t be happy.

Manfred Dawson tried to run his family the way he ran his successful real estate business, with mixed success. Her mother was good at appearing to toe the line while managing to get exceptions for the things she really wanted to do. Michelle, Vanessa’s fourteen-year-old sister, was Daddy’s girl. She generally got what she wanted, but she could forget getting anything that might grant her a measure of independence.

Vanessa was the rebel in the family. She’d gone head to head with her father about her modeling career and had proceeded against his wishes at the age of fifteen. He’d considered having his daughter in the modeling business tantamount to her selling her body for money. When the barely eighteen-year-old Vanessa’s affair with the head of Savoy Models was exposed, she was cut out of her family allowance for her refusal to quit the business as her father demanded. She thanked God that her father knew nothing about her cocaine addiction and recovery in the private clinic in upstate New York.

As Vanessa expertly applied foundation and blush, she gave up on finding any magic words to break it gently to her father. The best option lay in finding the right moment, dropping the bomb and going for damage control if he did explode. Coating her lips with Raspberry Ice gloss, she blotted them and spread her mouth into a smile. What was the worst he could do, anyway?

Using the remote to send the clothes in her closet whizzing by for her inspection, she answered her own question. Her father would use the big threat he always used. He’d threaten to cut her off from the family fortune. His threat and her determination to be independent had prompted her to enroll in Columbia University and work fulltime toward a business degree.

Going to college had given her that much more confidence in her ability to take care of herself and eventually it had gotten her back into her family’s good graces. After going year round and taking extra classes, she had only a year and a half more before getting a bachelor’s degree in business administration. The only problem was that she had no idea what kind of business she wanted to be in.

After halting the parade of clothes and selecting a silk, ruby-colored Versace camisole and a soft, flowered silk Cavalli wrap skirt, she stepped into the shoes closet on her left and found a matching red pair of Manolos.

Crossing the room, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She usually liked more meat on her five-foot-eleven-inch frame, but she was just about the right size for the cameras. Maybe catching a bug on that family cruise to the Mediterranean last month hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. Now all she had to do was watch what she ate.

By the time she’d dressed and styled her sandy brown, golden-streaked hair and attended to some charity matters in her home office, her father’s chauffer was waiting in the car downstairs. Stuffing her lipstick and keys into her Gucci Hobo bag, she hurried downstairs to the car.

At her parents’ home in an exclusive section of Scarsdale, Vanessa greeted Robert, the butler, and made her way in. Her parents were relaxing and getting ready for dinner in the large living area they used to entertain guests.

“You look wonderful,” her mother said, moving from her place on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows to hug and kiss Vanessa.

In a classic, pink Chanel suit, Lonette Dawson was gorgeous. The highlights in her sandy brown hair were subtler than Vanessa’s, her eyes were sienna brown instead of hazel and her figure was more rounded, but they looked like sisters.

“You look beautiful, too, Mama,” Vanessa murmured, returning the kiss on the cheek. She approached her dad, who was leaning back on the sofa in a navy, checked Perry Ellis suit. The financial and real estate sections of the paper were close to his fingers, but he was making an effort to give the family all of his attention.