Ebony could still recall the horror she'd felt when he'd told her that, and then added that he wanted to keep their relationship a secret from the world, and especially his mother. Their passion for each other would pass, he'd claimed. No need to hurt anybody with the knowledge of their liaison when it was only a fleeting thing.
Yet all the while he'd been saying this, she had been hurting. More than hurting—breaking into little pieces. She'd argued with him on this last score, wanting him at least to recognise in public that she was his woman. But no... People would not understand, he'd said. They'd talk.
So he'd kept her as a hole-and-corner mistress, to be visited in the dead
of night, to be used for his pleasure in private while the world at large saw them as almost enemies.
And she had gone along with it, despising herself while counting the days till he came to her again, then vainly trying to salvage some pride by never showing any affection or special consideration towards him, by reducing his visits to nothing more than raw sexual encounters, with no love or warmth involved. There was a perverse pleasure in taunting him with her cold indifference to whether he came or not, in letting him think that there were plenty of other fish in the sea to fill her empty bed if he wasn't in it, in feeding his crazed jealousies that she might actually do some of the things she did with him with other lovers.
As if she would. Not even Gary had been able to coax such intimacies from her, or such abandonment. Only Alan...
Tears filled Ebony's eyes, but she dashed them away with the backs of her hands. The time for tears was long gone. Now it was time for action.
Last night had proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that she had no strength against Alan's sexual power over her. No matter how angry with him she was, he only had to touch her and she was lost.
And it would always be that way, she agonised. Love him or hate him, she was his for the taking whenever he wanted her. It was this mortifying
realisation that propelled her not to change her mind from what she had already decided she must do— go to Paris with Gary.
Shivering a little, she slipped out of the warmth of the bed and dragged on her white bathrobe over her naked and vaguely aching body. She flushed guiltily to think it had been herself—and not Alan— who had been the insatiable one last night. Was it because she had known this would be the last time?
Probably. Even now, the temptation to return to that bed, to rouse him from sleep with her hands and lips, to...
A bitter taste filled her mouth. Maybe it was just that she needed to clean her teeth, or maybe it was the self-hate rising from within. Whatever, she sud- denly felt unclean, wicked, rotten to the core. She had to get away from him, from Sydney, from Australia. That was the only answer.
Slipping quietly out into the lounge-room, she picked up her telephone and dialed the number she'd written on the notebook resting beside it.
'The Ramada,' the hotel receptionist answered.
'Could you put me through to Gary Stevenson's room, please?'
'Certainly, madam.'
Ebony's eyes flicked anxiously over at the bedroom door while waiting for Gary to answer. She hoped Alan wouldn't wake up. Instinct warned her she must keep her plans a secret. Alan must never find out, not till she was safely on that plane.
A bleary-voiced Gary finally came on the line. 'Hello.'
'It's Ebony,' she said quickly, huskily. 'I need to see you. This morning. Will you be in around nine?'
'Sure thing, love. What's the urgency? You've already turned me down. Again.'
'I've had second thoughts. Sort of.'
'Only "sort of"?'
'We need to talk.'
'I'm all ears.'
'Not on the phone.'
'Why not?'
She hesitated, then said softly, 'I'm not alone.'
Gary's chuckle was dark. 'So that's the way it is, eh? What's the problem? Won't he take the hint he's no longer wanted?'
'Something like that.'
'I see...' His sigh was weary. 'Well, get rid of him temporarily, love, and get over here pronto. If you feel as bad as you sound, then me thinks you need a shoulder to cry on.'
A lump filled her throat. 'You're so good to me, Gary.'
'Yeah, yeah, all my exes say that. I'm a good bloke. But tell me one thing.