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“Stop! No, I’m not stringing you along. I just don’t think a ‘bash’ sounds like me. Especially a dress-up one.”

“Hey, relax. You’ll be with me, and I’m a star.” She could envision his lazy, crooked, conceited grin, and her heart twisted with love. What would all his friends and teammates think of dowdy Ana Ramsey? She remembered Tom Tandy’s face when he’d first met her, and knew then that she would never subject Trent to that kind of embarrassment.

Nor would she break her resolve and go to the party as Rana. Trent would feel like a colossal fool, and she couldn’t do that to him either, not when the most important football season of his career was pending. He was feeling like a Super Bowl quarterback now. She wouldn’t do anything to imperil his regained confidence.

“We’ll see,” she said obliquely to postpone refusing him outright.

But she knew she would never attend that party.

“Mother!”

“Hello, Rana.”

Rana stood in the doorway, staring at Ruby’s guest, who was sitting with the elderly woman in the parlor. Rana’s face drained of color.

“Your mother arrived half an hour ago, dear,” Ruby said, trying valiantly to ignore the apparent antagonism between the two women. She had disliked Susan Ramsey on sight, and her initial impression hadn’t improved when the woman insisted that her daughter’s name was Rana instead of Ana.

Only inbred southern hospitality had compelled Ruby to invite Susan into the parlor and offer her tea while they waited for Ana, or Rana, to return from her errands. Ruby hadn’t liked Susan’s probing questions, either, and had answered them as evasively as possible. “Would you like tea, Ana, dear?”

“No, thank you, Ruby,” Rana said, never taking her eyes off her mother, who did nothing to mask her disapproval of the flamboyantly dressed landlady, the house, and her daughter.

“Then I’ll leave you two alone to visit.”

She bustled out, patting Rana on the arm reassuringly and whispering, “Just call out if you need me,” as she went past her.

“You look dreadful,” Susan began without preamble. “Your face is sunburned.”

“This is an island, Mother. I’m out in the sun frequently, and I love it.”

Susan sniffed her disapproval. “This Ruby person tells me that you have a beau.”

“Ruby told you no such thing,” Rana said calmly. She sat down in a chair opposite her mother’s, where Susan sat so erect that no part of her back touched the cushion. “You may have deviously gleaned enough information from her to come to that conclusion, but don’t suggest that my friend gossiped about me. I know better. Just as I know how persuasive you can be, Mother.”

Susan’s only reaction to her daughter’s show of spunk was a slight raising of one groomed brow. “Are you living here with a man?”

“No. But I fell in love with a man who lived here. He’s gone now.”

“So I hear. A football player.” She laughed in ridicule. “You’re behaving like a fool over a broad pair of shoulders. I should have known that’s what was keeping you awayfrom where you were supposed to be.”

“ Trent had nothing to do with my decision not to return to work.”

“Didn’t he?”

“We are speaking of Trent Gamblin, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“From what I’ve read recently, his career is in a steep decline.”

“He had a shoulder injury last season, but he’s coming back this year better than ever.”

“Rana, for heaven’s sake, spare me your sickening adulation.” She picked at a nonexistent speck on her skirt. “Where does this shabby little affair go from here?”

“I don’t know. But be assured of one thing, Mother. It’s none of your business,” she said, emphasizing each word. Susan’s face went taut. “I’ve got a new life. A new career. My business is doing well, and growing. If and when I return to modeling, it will be my decision and will have nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

Rana leaned forward and whipped off her glasses, giving her mother a penetrating stare. “Why did you lead me to believe that Morey’s death was a suicide?”

Susan’s composure slipped another notch. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, yes, you did. There’s just no limit to how far you’ll go, is there? You’ll do anything to get your way. I pity you, Mother. You must be awfully lonely.”

Susan sprang to her feet. “Save your pity. I’ve managed to pull myself together since your desertion. I sold the penthouse, and I intend to keep every penny of the equity.”

“Congratulations. It’s yours. I always hated that mausoleum you mistakenly referred to as ‘home.’”

Susan continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “With careful financial counseling from a man I’ve met recently, I’ll live comfortably without you, Rana. He has invited me to stay with him for a while. I’ve volunteered to help him work out some of his personal problems.”

Rana smiled at that piece of news. Susan had found another life to manage. “That’s wonderful, Mother. I hope you’ll be happy.”

“I will be. While you waste your life with some muscle- bound buffoon who carries a football down a field.”

“I don’t know if Trent and I have a future together. But at least I’ll be directing the course of my life, not you.”

“Does he know who you are?”

Rana’s eyes clashed with her mother’s. Susan smiled with smug triumph when she realized that she had scored a direct hit. “No?” she purred. “From his aunt I understand that he’s a man with a fragile ego, especially where his career is concerned. He probably wouldn’t take too kindly to your international fame, would he? Is that why you’re keeping your true identity a secret?”

“No!”

“Well, it’s really no concern of mine,” she said airily. “My friend had business in Houston, so we only flew down for the day.” She picked up her purse, stood, and walked toward the hall. “I must go, or I’ll be late meeting him back at the airport. I wanted to give you one last chance to come back, but I won’t interfere in your life again, Rana. If you choose to live in obscurity and poverty, that’s up to you. By the way, when I moved from the penthouse, I boxed up all your things. I’m having them shipped to you. Use or dispose of them as you see fit. Good-bye.”

Rana’s heart tore in two. This was it. This was their final farewell. She couldn’t believe that she and her mother were parting company so coldly, possibly never to see each other again. From all indications, Susan was washing her hands of her.

“Mother,” she called out, her voice quavering. She took several quick steps forward, her arms extended. Susan turned around, but her posture remained unyielding. Rana forced herself to a halt, but didn’t let her mother’s aloof veneer stop her from speaking what she felt she must.

“You said I live in poverty, but you’re wrong. I’m rich. Wealthier than I’ve ever been.” She paused, desperately wanting to see a glimmer of understanding and warmth in her mother’s emotionless eyes. “I’ve found real beauty. I’ve learned what it is to love. Trent taught me, though he didn’t even know it. I thought I hated you, but I don’t. I love you. Not because of what you are, but in spite of it. That’s what it’s all about, you see? I love you, Mother, and I’m sorry you’ll never know the joy-not happiness-but the joy that can come from loving.”

She expected nothing. Nothing was what she got. Susan turned on her heel and stalked out.

“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?”