Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,79
in one of the plush-looking but very hard chairs. Jen had raved about this designer’s stuff, and she’d been featured in San Francisco magazine in the winter, just before all the holiday events. Ana was praying that because she wasn’t as much a “name” that Su might have something affordable that would keep her from looking like an off-the-rack vagabond.
“Ma’am?” A soft voice broke through her thoughts, and another woman stopped by her side. “If you would come with me?”
This woman was older, serene in a way Ana equated with people who did yoga and tai chi. Ana shrugged and followed her.
“I am Cara Misioia. May I ask which gala you will be attending?”
Oh, man, the designer herself. She was either going to get what she came for, or she was going to get a hell of an embarrassment. “The TeenCare–Bootstrap Foundation gala at the Opera House.”
“Ah, a worthy pair of causes. I am fond of the TeenCare people. Many of them will be wearing my designs tonight,” she said with a smile. “And are you interested in teens, Miss…?”
“Burton. Ana Burton.” Ana decided to leave the whole agent thing out. She also decided it might be time to do a little name dropping. “I’ve been invited by Mr. Gianikopolis and his—” She didn’t get any further. The woman gasped and stopped in her tracks.
“You will be with Mr. G?” She fluttered her long-fingered hands as if she were having a panic attack. “THE Mr. G?”
Taken aback, Ana said, “The only one I know. He’s partnered with Sophia Kontos, but I’ll be—”
“Ohhhhhh.” Cara fluttered some more, her face alternately flushing and going pale. “La Kontos is one of the most elegant…if I ever got…oh, my. I must sit. Please, please. Be comfortable.” Cara opened a lovely armoire decorated with Asian scenes, and opened a thoroughly modern refrigerator concealed inside. “Water? A soft drink? Wine?”
“Water’s fine, thanks.” Ana waited as Cara took out glasses, filled them with ice, and poured sparkling water into two glasses. Ana surreptitiously looked at her watch.
“Miss Burton, I think I have something that would suit you. It is very expensive, I’ll tell you that up front. However,” she preempted Ana’s objection, “if you are to be in Mr. G’s party this evening, wearing my design, I will benefit greatly. There will be pictures, you see, national press, and he is so prominent that the pictures of him will be included.”
Ana was following the discussion, but not sure how it related to a really expensive dress. “Okay, so there will be pictures.” She put that together with her being with Gates and froze. “Oh, Lord, there will be pictures.” What the hell was she going to do about that?
“Yes, yes, you see then. You will wear the dress. I will only charge you a rental fee.” Cara clapped her hands together once, sharply to finalize the point. She smiled at Ana, and there was a manic look to it. “Sophia Kontos will also be wearing a rented gown, so do not look so stricken, young lady. If it is good enough for her, it is good enough for you, yes?”
“No, I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m worried about. The pictures. Crap. Maybe I should call this off.” She pulled out her PDA, ready to call Gates, when Cara put her hand over the keypad.
“Miss Burton, I would take it as a great favor if you would do this. I have been working for fifteen years to build my business. This, this is the sort of thing that can take a designer over the top.”
“I’m no model, Ms. Misioia.”
“No, no, and you don’t need to be. This is the point of my designs. I design brilliant gowns for the woman who has shape, form. For a woman, Miss Burton, not a stick.”
“But your assistant,” Ana blurted before she could censor the remark. Jeez, fashion must be rattling her brain.
Cara laughed, a light, tinkling bell sound. “Yes, odd, isn’t it? But certain women buy better from an assistant like Su.” She shrugged. “It is a mystery. Now, let us begin. Please, here is the dressing area. If you would go down to your underwear, please, yes?”
If Cara was disturbed by the sight of Ana’s weapon lying on top of her suit pants, she didn’t show it. She measured and muttered, twisting Ana this way and that before finally handing her a robe. “Put this on. Stay here. Don’t sweat.”
Unsure how she would manage the latter, Ana slid