Mistress of Deception

Alan tried to stop the black suspicions from crowding in. 'Are you sure it

was Ebony?' he asked casually.

'Of course I'm sure. How many girls look like Ebony? You know, it's not surprising she's become a highly sought-after model with that face and figure, not to mention that hair! I tried to sign her up for one of my fashion shows not long ago, but she only models black, it seems, and I don't design in black.'

'Yes,' Alan said on automaton. 'But it's worked surprisingly well for her, that black-only business. Still, I think she'd have been successful anyway.'

Adrianna gave him an exasperated glance. 'So when are you going to snap her up, Alan? A girl like that must have plenty of admirers. You wouldn't want to wait too long.'

'I won't,' he said with more feeling than he'd intended.

Adrianna looked surprised. 'That's more like it. Now tell me, how's your business going? Better than mine, I hope.'

Alan let the whole meal go by before he was able to ask the one question that was gnawing a jagged hole into his insides. 'I'll take you back to your hotel, Adrianna,' he said as he helped her into her coat. 'Which one are you staying at, by the way?'

She smiled at him over her shoulder. 'The Ramada.'

They arrived back at the hotel by ten—Adrianna had not wanted a late evening. Alan ushered her across the foyer, his emotional state something like a kamikaze pilot. He didn't care if he ran into Ebony. He didn't care if she saw him with Adrianna. He felt homicidal and suicidal at the one time.

But as fate would have it, nobody ran into anybody else. He delivered Adrianna to her room, kissed her goodnight, and returned to the foyer. On approaching Reception, he asked for Gary Stevenson's room number, vainly hoping that they would tell him he'd checked out days ago.

But he was there all right.

When he asked to be connected by telephone he was told that Mr Stevenson wanted all calls held that evening, but he could leave a message if he liked.

Alan shook his head and turned away from the desk, feeling sick. He

went outside into the street and simply walked. After an hour of mindless pacing, he found a telephone and rang Ebony's apartment, holding his breath till it clicked over to her answering machine. He knew from experience that meant she wasn't home. She didn't use the answering machine while she was merely asleep. He hung up and went back to the hotel, finding an unobtrusive spot in the foyer where he could sit and watch the lifts without being seen himself.

By eleven-thirty, he was beginning to think he was crazy, sitting there. Then he saw her coming out of the lift with a leanly built, fairish man whom he immediately recognised. Stevenson had once done a fashion shoot for his Man-About-Town label many years ago. He'd been a womaniser back then. Nothing had changed, apparently.

Alan watched, seething, while Gary placed his hands on Ebony's shoulders and kissed her. OK, so it wasn't a long kiss, but it wasn't a peck either. He saw Ebony wag a finger at him and laugh. But then she went up on tiptoe and kissed him back on the cheek.

Alan ground his teeth, forcing himself to stay right where he was till Stevenson turned to walk back to the lifts and Ebony hurried away. For a few terrible moments he battled with the temptation to go over and mash the bastard to a pulp. But he didn't. He knew who was to blame for what had happened tonight. And it wasn't Gary Stevenson.

A blackness enveloped Alan, a blackness full of jealousy and fury and revenge. She would never do this to him again, he vowed savagely. Never!

CHAPTER NINE

FROM the moment Alan picked Ebony up early on the Saturday morning, she felt something was wrong. Why she should feel that, she had no idea, for Alan was, if anything, extra attentive, a ready smile coming to his face whenever she glanced his way. It almost seemed as if he was trying to hide something, though she could not, for the life of her, imagine what it could be.

'Did your—er—business dinner go all right?' she asked on the drive to his place.

Was she imagining things or did he tense slightly at her question? His mouth was smiling when he looked over at her, but not his eyes.

'Excellent,' he pronounced. 'Most productive and informative.'

'In what way?'

'Pardon?'

'In what way was it productive and informative?'