Mistress of Deception

'All right, Alan,' she agreed, and, steeling herself, reached up to give him a chaste peck on the cheek. 'We'll wait.'

He seemed pleased. 'That's my girl.'

Ebony went to bed that night telling herself that if she was patient and

understanding everything would turn out all right. After all, she had much to be grateful for. Alan didn't love Adrianna any more. He loved her. And he wanted to marry her and have babies with her. That was much much more than she'd ever hoped for.

Why, then, as she lay in her cold, lonely bed, was she so worried? Why did she keep thinking that she was fighting a losing battle, trying to gain Alan's trust and respect?

Her final thought before she drifted off to sleep was not quite so pessimistic. It brought a groan, however. Gary was going to kill her when she told him she'd changed her mind again!

CHAPTER EIGHT

As IT turned out, Ebony didn't get the opportunity to speak personally to Gary over the next few days. Work took up all Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday during the daytime, and going out with Alan occupied every evening till nearly midnight. Gary left a message on her answering machine on the Wednesday, complaining that she was never home and that he would leave it up to her to contact him, otherwise he would expect her to arrive at his hotel room around seven on Friday evening.

When Ebony did try to contact him at the Ramada, he wasn't in, so she left a message to say she would see him precisely at seven p.m. on the Friday. She felt bad enough that he had made all those arrangements for nothing, and decided the least she could do was give him her news first-hand, then have a farewell dinner with him.

Of course, there was no question of telling Alan any of this; she was not a fool. But that left the problem of inventing some excuse not to see him on the Friday evening. The matter was beginning to cause her some stress when Alan himself, towards the end of their date on the Thursday night, provided the perfect solution.

They'd been out to dinner and a show, one of those modern psychological plays which she'd never liked and didn't appreciate. She'd run out of dis- cussion about it on the way home when Alan had turned to her and said, 'By the way, I can't take you out tomorrow night. I have a business dinner which I just can't get out of. Sorry.'

She hoped she had hidden her relief. 'It's all right. I understand.'

'You don't mind?'

'Of course not. My hair's overdue for a treatment and that takes hours, anyway,' she said without any real guilt. Everyone told little white lies to shield the ones they loved from hurt and worry.

Actually, Ebony was relieved about Friday night for more reasons than her dinner date with Gary. Platonic-style outings with Alan had gradually proved to be more of a trial than the wonderfully sweet and romantic encounters she had hoped they might be. The physical attraction between them was so strong that continually denying its natural conclusion became a barrier to other forms of communication. Their conversation had become stilted and forced, their goodnight kisses nothing more than fleeting pecks. On these occasions, she longed to throw her arms around Alan, kiss him properly then drag him inside.

Suppressing a sigh, she was off in another world till she found herself opening her front door, Alan standing at her shoulder.

'You were very quiet in the car,' he said. 'Are you annoyed with me because I can't take you out tomorrow night?'

She turned to lift startled eyes to his. 'No, of course not. Why should I be?'

He shrugged, but his eyes were troubled. His concern touched her. Laying an understanding hand on his cheek, she smiled softly. 'Don't be silly, Alan. I know you're a busy man.'

His hand covered hers and Ebony immediately tensed. 'I love you,' he said. 'You know that, don't you?'

'Yes,' she choked out. Dear God, just go. I can't take much more of this.

But already his mouth was bending and this time his goodnight kiss in no way resembled a peck. Ebony gave a soft groan as his lips flowered open over hers, his probing tongue-tip inviting her to part her lips as well.

No invitation was required. She was already ahead of him, sending her own tongue forward to meet his. The hand on his cheek slid around his neck, her other hand coming to rest on his chest. She could feel his heart beating madly underneath the heat of her palm. His kiss grew fierce and his arms swept her hard against him.