Mistress of Deception

Ebony frowned. Why didn't his answer satisfy her? Why did she get the feeling he was deceiving her in some way?

'Cross your heart and hope to die?' she challenged with the exuberance of a child.

His laughter was spontaneous and engaging. 'Cross my heart and hope to

die.' And he crossed his heart, all the while smiling at her.

Now she felt better, settling back to glance around and see where Alan was heading. Clearly towards the city. 'You still haven't said where you're taking me?' she asked.

'To the Hyatt on the Rocks. Have you been there?'

'No, never. But I've seen it from the harbour. It doesn't look cheap.'

'Are any of the good hotels in Sydney cheap?'

'I don't know. I haven't stayed in any of them. I live in Sydney, remember?' Neither have you ever taken me to one of them before, she realised all of a sudden. Either for dinner or anything else. Why had he chosen a hotel? Why not simply a restaurant? Was it because a hotel had rooms for hire?

'I hope you don't think we're going to stay the night,' she said firmly.

'It's not like you to sound so prim and proper.'

'You'd better get used to it,' she countered, a touch sharply.

He slanted her a sceptical look. Ebony's earlier disquiet returned. She'd been right when she'd told Gary she'd created some of her problems herself. She hadn't realised that the day would come when she would desperately want Alan to believe she was a good girl, not a good-time girl.

'I.. .I'm not sure you have the correct idea about me, Alan,' she tried explaining. 'I'm not in the habit of leaping into bed with every Tom, Dick and Harry, no matter what the tabloids might have implied.'

'Oh?'

'Yes, for your information there's only been one other man beside you.'

'Is that so?'

God, he didn't believe her. She could tell. Should she go on, keep trying to convince him, or let the matter drop?

'Yes, that's so.' She decided to let the matter drop.

Several seconds of electric silence descended.

'Who was the other lucky fellow?' Alan finally asked, his voice curiously flat.

Ebony no longer wanted to pursue this conversation. It felt dangerous. She wished she'd never brought the matter up.

'It isn't important,' she mumbled.

'Was it Stevenson?' he demanded, his tone still deadly.

Oh, God...

'I want an answer, Ebony. Was it Stevenson?'

'Yes,' she sighed, and stared out of the passenger window.

'Did you sleep with him over the weekend?'

Her head snapped round. 'Of course not! What do you take me for?'

His eyes were hard as they lanced hers. 'A woman scorned. A woman who likes her sex. A woman who had no idea I loved her. Till today...'

'That's insulting!'

'It's the truth.'

'It's not. You.. .you don't know the real me.'

'Is that my fault?'

'No,' she sighed again. 'Maybe not...'

Ebony fell silent, her dismay growing. Alan's opinion of her was even darker than she feared. So she was intensely relieved when he said, 'I think it best if we try to forget the past, Ebony. It can't be changed, anyway. Let's concentrate on now, and the future. Surely that's all that matters.'

'I couldn't agree more, Alan,' she agreed eagerly. And flashed him a relieved smile.

His returning look was intense. 'I do love you. Too much, perhaps...'

The restaurant he took her to at the Hyatt was called Sevens. It was classy and quiet, with a cosmopolitan menu and an unpretentious but splendid

service that would have pleased all but the most snobbish diner. But the most memorable aspect was the view, which would have to be unparalleled throughout the world.

Sydney harbour on a clear and still winter's night was a sight to behold. The inky black waters were a perfect mirror for the lights of the bridge and the surrounding city, the glittering reflections forming a diamond-studded carpet till a passing ferry disturbed the illusion, only to have it return a minute or two later.

'I could sit here and watch the water and the boats all night,' she commented while they waited for their starters to be served. Alan had ordered a white wine—her choice—and she was sipping the deliriously chilled liquid with pleasure. "This is a fairly new hotel, isn't it?'

'Yes, it's only a couple of years old.'

'The site alone must have cost a fortune.' The hotel hugged a small headland that curved around underneath the city-side pylons of the Harbour Bridge. There weren't too many places in Sydney, Ebony appreciated, from which one had an unimpeded view of the harbour and most of its famous surrounds—the Bridge, the Quay, the Rocks, the waterfront and the Opera House.