Mistress of Deception

'Oh, Alan

'I thought if I had a wife in my bed every night, then I would be able to cure my lust. I think Adrianna was going to say yes, too. But as you know, she met Bryce McLean in the outback after her plane crashed, and there went my plans to be noble. Shortly after she got married, Ebony kissed me and all hell broke loose.'

'I see...'

'I hope so. Look, I did what I thought was right by forcing her to leave like that, but I never did get over wanting her. It got worse too as she grew in both her beauty and her sexuality. It killed me to hear about her multitude of affairs. So when she virtually offered herself to me the night of her twenty-first birthday party, I took her. And I've kept on taking her every damned time I've felt like it. And you know what? She's never said no, never wanted anything from me but what I wanted from her. Pure unadulterated sex. So don't go telling me she loves me, because I don't buy it. The girl's sex mad. I'll warrant I'm not the only man to grace her bed, though I'll kill the bastard or bastards if I ever get my hands on them.'

His mother had looked at him then with shock and pity on her face. 'Oh, Alan, you just can't see, can you?'

'Can't see what?'

'You're in love with her too!'

He'd laughed at her at the time.

But now he wasn't so sure. Could this be love, this gnawing at his insides, this ghastly regret that he hadn't made Ebony stay earlier on, hadn't held her close and told his mother that yes, she was his woman and he was proud of that fact?

Adrianna had once told him what he felt for Ebony was love, that he was blinded to his real feelings by the intensity of his passion. Desire, she'd said, had a way of tricking people, making fools of them.

Well, it certainly kept making a fool of him. Did that mean he was really in love with the woman? There! He had at last admitted it. Ebony was a woman, not a girl. At least he didn't have to feel guilty about that part any longer.

But what kind of woman?

Ah, yes... there lay the crux of the matter. What kind of woman was she?

Images tantalised his brain, and his body. Was it love that made her make love like that? Or sheer decadence? Did he really care?

Yes, came the astonishing answer. God, yes, he didl

A grimly determined expression thinned his mouth as he lent forward and fired the engine. He'd give her a couple of days to calm down, and then... then he'd set about finding out the answers to the many questions tonight had raised.

For he could not go on like this, he realised, his nerves stretched tight, his mind and body rarely at peace. If he didn't find some answer soon, something would have to give. He was a man, not a machine. And there was just so much a man could take.

CHAPTER SIX

EBONY rang Gary first thing the next morning, before he left the hotel.

'You haven't changed your mind again, have you?' he groaned, once he knew who was on the other end of the line.

'Far from it. I wanted to confirm our arrangements. We fly out Tuesday week, is that it?'

'Yes. I was only able to get you a holiday visa to start with, but once the fashion houses in Paris get a gander at you you'll have work offers coming out of your ears.'

'I'm not worried about working. I just have to get away from here.'

'You still having trouble with Carstairs?'

'Mmm.'

'One day, you'll have to tell me the whole gruesome story.'

'Maybe.'

Gary sighed. 'I'm your friend, love. I won't breathe a word of anything you tell me to anyone else. Are you worried the gossip rags might get a hold of it?'

'Hardly. They don't need real facts for a story. They make it up as they go along. I'm already supposed to have slept with every photographer I've ever met.'

'You should see some of the stuff they've printed about me!'

'All of which is probably true.'

'Of course,' Gary laughed. 'Doesn't hurt my career either. Amazing how many women want to be photographed by bad boy Stevenson. I wouldn't think a bit of reported spice has hurt your career, either.'

'Maybe my career hasn't suffered from the gossip, Gary, but my private life has.'

'You mean Carstairs believes all that rubbish they write about you?'

'Not only believes it but thrives on it, I think. He likes me bad.'

'Sounds like a bit of a rotten egg himself, Ebony. You're well rid of him. You are rid of him, aren't you?'