“So are you or aren’t you?”

“You’ll have to speak louder, honey. I’m calling from the locker room, and it’s noisy as hell. Will you meet me at the party? I’m the only guy on the team who hasn’t got a date. They’ll never let me live that down. You wouldn’t be that cruel, would you?”

Ever since Susan’s visit Rana had been debating what she would do on this day. It had come to the eleventh hour, and still she had made no decision. The team had returned to Houston late the night before. The coach had scheduled an early-morning practice, so it had been impossible for Trent to drive to Galveston to see her. The party was due to start in a few hours. He had every right to expect Rana’s answer as to whether she was going to meet him there or not.

Rana had spent hours of agonizing thought pondering the question. Her confrontation with Susan, heart-wrenching as it had been, had accomplished something. Her mother had inadvertently raised some vital points that had forced Rana to think seriously about her love for Trent. And his for her. He had vowed his love before leaving Galveston and told her repeatedly how much he loved her each time he’d called. During their separation his devotion hadn’t waned. Rana had expected never to see him again, but it was clear that Trent planned to make her very much a part of his life.

What it came down to was this: Did he love her for what she was or for what she wasn’t? Would he love Rana as much as he loved Ana? She couldn’t continue the disguise forever. She had come to that decision, at least. She was as much Rana as she was Ana. Living behind the mask of dowdiness was as much a lie as living behind Rana’s glamorous makeup and clothes.

Love meant acceptance. Trent either loved her or he didn’t. It would be a grueling test, but she had to put him through it. Otherwise there could be no future for them.

Of course, she would have to go through the test too. That would be the hardest part. That was what she didn’t know if she could bear.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” she said quietly.

“Great! I’m sending a limo for you.”

“No! Don’t be crazy.”

“I’m crazy in love. And when I see you, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

He didn’t know the ironic significance of those words.

They said a hasty good-bye. Trancelike, Rana walked into her bathroom. Looking directly into the mirror, she slowly lowered the blue-tinted eyeglasses. Lest she capitulate to her fears, she cracked the glasses against the side of the bathtub before dropping the pieces into the wastepaper basket. She shook back her hair and gathered it into a ponytail.

Then she reached into the cabinet over the sink and took out her makeup kit.

Ten

Shelooked spectacular.

The dress she wore had been specially designed for a fragrance commercial. It was white, and highly dramatic. When she had gone through the trunks her mother had shipped to her, she’d selected this dress to wear to the party because it was one of her favorites and so typically “Rana.”

She had altered the side seams to accommodate her fuller figure, but the silky fabric still draped each curve of her body as though caressing it. The neckline, which left one shoulder bare, was banded by sparkling beadwork. She wore no ornaments except a pair of jeweled earrings as glittering as tiny chandeliers.

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?”