A Model Spy. Natalie Dunbar

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