The Ultimate Betrayal

‘By showing how your other half lives?’ she mocked.

‘My other half?’ He looked genuinely nonplussed. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘The other you I know nothing about,’ she shrugged, adding heavily to herself, The Daniel who’s grown stronger while the other one has been slowly fading away before my very eyes without my noticing it. ‘The one who feels perfectly at ease in places like this.’

His grey eyes flashed her an impatient look. ‘Would you rather we had gone to the local Chinese dressed like this?’ he derided. ‘You went to a lot of trouble today to create your new image, Rachel. This—’ his gaze flicked briefly around their surroundings ‘—suits the new image. It’s up to you to decide whether you prefer it or not.’

Not, she thought, then grimaced when her heart gave a dull thump in acknowledgement of what that answer meant. This was not her, dressed for the part or not. But it was so obviously Daniel that she wanted to weep. Had they anything in common left worth hanging on to?

‘And do you prefer it?’ she asked him curiously. ‘The new image?’ she enlightened his puzzled frown.

He sat back in his seat, his eyes wearing an odd expression as they ran over her. ‘I like the new hairstyle,’ he admitted after a moment, ‘but I’m not sure I like your reasons for doing it. I like the dress,’ he went on, before she could respond. ‘It’s beautiful—as you probably well know—but I don’t like what it does to the woman I—’

A waiter appeared at her side, effectively cutting Daniel off mid-word as he placed a glass of something cool and clear in front of Rachel then offered the same to Daniel. ‘Your menus, sir,’ he murmured, opening the dark green leather-backed menus and presenting them with one each.

‘Thank you,’ Daniel said, abruptly dismissing the man with a curt flick of a finger. The waiter bowed politely, then left them.

‘You were very short with him,’ Rachel censured. ‘What did he do to make you behave so rudely?’

‘He interrupted me while I was trying to compliment you.’

She sent him a deriding look. ‘If you call those compliments, Daniel, then I’m certainly not impressed with your style!’

He grimaced ruefully. ‘All right,’ he conceded, ‘so I’m finding it difficult to come to terms with the new you. Rachel—’ he leaned forward suddenly, his gaze urgent as he took hold of one of her hands ‘—you’re beautiful, you don’t need me to tell you that—’

Don’t I? she questioned wryly.

‘But don’t—please don’t lose the lovely person you were before in your effort to prove something to me!’

‘I didn’t do this for you, Daniel,’ she informed him coldly. ‘I did it for myself. It was time, after all,’ she added bleakly, ‘that I grew up.’

‘Oh, no, darling,’ he murmured thickly, ‘you’re so wrong! I—’

‘Well, Daniel Masterson, as I live and breathe!’ a smoothly sardonic voice drawled.

‘Damn!’ Daniel muttered, his grip tightening on Rachel’s hand before he let go of her abruptly, schooled his expression into a fascinatingly bland mask, then looked up into the face of their intruder.

‘Zac,’ he acknowledged, coming smoothly to his feet. ‘I thought you were in the States.’

He stepped from behind their table to shake the other man’s hand, and Rachel glanced up to find herself gazing into the attractive face of a man around Daniel’s age. He was rake-thin and blond, with a pair of bright green eyes that appeared sharp enough to cut armour-plating if he wanted them to.

‘Been back several weeks now,’ he replied. ‘It’s you who seem to have been out of circulation recently…’ His glance swept curiously down towards Rachel—then darkened with pure male interest. ‘Could this beautiful creature be the reason why?’ he mused softly. Then, boldly to Daniel, ‘So what happened to the lovely L—?’

‘My wife,’ Daniel cut in, editing out whatever the other man had been going to say—but not before Rachel had added the last word for herself. ‘Rachel.’ With what seemed to her a very reluctant move, he shifted to one side to place her in full view of the newcomer. ‘This is Zac Callum. We use the same legal firm,’ he concluded tautly.’

Zac Callum threw Daniel a sharply speculative look. ‘Don’t we just?’ Rachel thought she heard him murmur beneath his breath as he stepped by Daniel’s stiff frame to hold out his hand to her.

But she was too busy repeating his name to herself to find time to wonder what that soft remark could mean, because the name she knew. He was the political cartoonist for the Sunday Globe, and cruelly witty he was too. He had an unerring ability to latch on to people’s weak points and use them to turn even the most prominent person into a laughing stock, which also made him quite a TV celebrity. He tended to turn up on quiz shows and the like, adding a bit of wicked spice to the proceedings.

‘No wonder Daniel has been noticeable for his absence over the last few weeks,’ he murmured as Rachel placed her hand in his. Long, incredibly slender fingers closed over hers. ‘A wife,’ he added softly. ‘Your taste has certainly improved, Daniel.’

He means Lydia, Rachel thought wretchedly. ‘Thank you,’ she said, answering for Daniel. He looked so tense that she had a suspicion he wouldn’t be able to speak even if he wanted to. ‘I—I’ve heard of you, Mr Callum,’ she told him shyly. ‘I enjoy your work.’

‘A fan?’ His eyes began to glint with humour. ‘Tell me more…’ Gripping the back of a vacant chair, he went to pull it out from beneath the table.

‘Zac, darling—aren’t you forgetting something?’ a wry voice intruded.

Pulling a rueful face exclusively for Rachel’s benefit, he straightened, then turned towards the woman standing ju