The Devils Price. Carole Mortimer

      ‘Er—–’ She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘How old is his daughter?’

      ‘How would I know?’ Diane dismissed uninterestedly. ‘All young children look the same to me.’

      ‘Kelly is about three,’ Josie rushed over to tell her, frowning at how pale Cynara was. ‘Is there anything wrong?’ she asked anxiously.

      ‘Er—no,’ she recovered with an effort from the shock of knowing Zack had another child. ‘I didn’t realise Zack—Mr Buchanan, had—had remarried.’ God, she had to pull herself together, she was making an idiot of herself. Why shouldn’t Zack have remarried after his divorce from Joanne, have had other children. She had made it plain she wanted no part of his life.

      ‘He hasn’t,’ Josie still frowned.

      She moistened her lips again. ‘Kelly is Joanne’s child?’ she croaked, wondering if the shock could be making her voice fade in this way.

      ‘If that was his wife’s name, yes,’ Josie looked puzzled. ‘Look, are you sure you’re okay?’

      ‘Can’t you see she isn’t,’ Diane scorned. ‘Mr Buchanan is probably another one of those men that belong to another woman who Cynara’s been involved with.’

      ‘Shut up,’ Josie turned on her angrily.

      ‘But can’t you see it’s true,’ Diane derided with contempt. ‘Well his wife is dead now, Cynara, so why don’t you have another shot at him?’ she added insultingly.

      ‘Diane, if you don’t shut up I’ll find a way to make you,’ Josie warned softly.

      Diane flushed. ‘I was only assuring her that Mr Buchanan is a free man now.’

      It was true that Zack had still been married to Joanne when they had met and fallen in love five years ago, but she had been sure they were divorcing each other, that their marriage had broken down completely. But if Kelly were three that meant Zack must have returned to Joanne shortly after their own heated separation. And they had another child to cement their love.

      ‘It’s all right, Josie,’ she told the other woman dully as she would once again have defended her.

      ‘Diane is a bitch—–’

      ‘Just who do you think you’re calling a bitch?’ Diane snapped indignantly.

      ‘You!’ Josie told her without remorse. ‘Can’t you see how upset Cynara is?’

      ‘I can see that one of her past indiscretions has caught up with her,’ the other woman said contemptuously. ‘And about time too. She can’t go around chasing other women’s men—–’

      ‘If you’re talking about Daniel,’ Josie cut in insultingly, ‘then let me tell you he’s the one who does the chasing! I was black and blue my first week here from trying to avoid his advances!’

      ‘How dare you! You—–’

      ‘Oh, shut up, Diane,’ she was told impatiently, Josie coming out from behind the desk to put her arm comfortingly about Cynara’s shoulders. ‘Come on, love, I’ll take you up to your room.’

      Cynara gave a wan smile as she and Josie went up to the room that had been allocated to her for the month of her contract at this hotel. ‘She’ll never forgive you,’ she grimaced.

      Josie gave a shrug that said she wasn’t in the least interested—or worried about Diane. ‘She’s a vindictive bitch,’ she dismissed. ‘It’s time someone put her in her place.’

      ‘Oh, I think you did that,’ Cynara said ruefully, unlocking her door.

      ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Josie offered sympathetically.

      ‘Would you mind very much if I wanted to be alone for a while?’ she asked for understanding.

      Josie squeezed her arm encouragingly. ‘I’m available if you ever need someone to talk to.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully, going in to her room to fall despondently into an armchair, seeing nothing of the luxurious comfort of the room, only feeling the pain of knowing that the love Zack had once professed to feel for her had only been a fleeting emotion after all, that he had returned to the wife he had admitted he still loved.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE show wasn’t going well, and she knew it. She only hoped the audience weren’t as aware of it as she was. And it wasn’t entirely due to the disturbing news she had heard that morning. No, that was only part of it, the rest of it was the man who sat so still at the back of the crowded room, every table full in the lounge except the one he sat at, the three other chairs around the table conspicuously empty.

      She hadn’t noticed him at first, had entered the stage wearing the glittering gold gown that made her hair look like flame as it swung straight down her back, had gone through the first two bouncy numbers before the steady consistency of that green gaze prickled an awareness down her spine, until she began to search for the only man who had ever been able to physically reach out and touch her across a room.

      She had faltered slightly in the middle of a song as she finally found him seated alone at that table at the back of the room. He had changed little, perhaps a little more grey sprinkled among the dark hair, a few more lines on his handsome face, but otherwise he was still the Zack Buchanan she had fallen in love with five years ago.

      Their meeting then had been very much the same as now, only that time Zack had been on a cruise with Michael, Cynara one of the people hired for the entertainment for the season of cruises. He had attended one of her shows, his penetrating gaze drawing her to him, and when he had sent her a message by one of the staff to join him after the show for a drink she had eagerly accepted. He hadn’t seemed at all like the other romeos she had encountered so far on this season of cruises, seemed reserved, withdrawn. Besides, what could he do to her on a crowded cruise-ship?

      He had stood up as she joined him, her face bare of stage make-up, the cream Victorian-style high-necked lace dress a perfect foil for her long gleaming hair.

      ‘You’re younger than I realised.’ He had frowned, obviously in his early to mid-thirties.

      ‘Does it matter?’ Her eyes had glowed with the anticipation of being with this handsome man.

      He had shrugged. ‘I’m not sure,’ he had admitted ruefully. ‘Maybe I should tell you from the beginning that my wife recently left me, I’m on board with my very confused and hurt five-year-old son and his nanny, and I’m only interested in a transient relationship at best.’

      ‘Whew!’ She had laughed self-consciously. ‘That’s honesty for you!’

      ‘Yes.’ He had sighed.

      Cynara had sat forward to cover his hand with hers, a long hand, strength in the lean fingers, his whole body full of ripcord muscle that couldn’t be hidden by the elegant black evening suit. His face was startlingly attractive rather than strictly handsome, his eyes deeply green, his nose long and straight, his mouth a thin line, his jaw square and firm, power etched into every pore. And Cynara knew with shocking clarity that she wanted him!

      ‘Maybe we could start off as friends,’ she had suggested in her husky voice, a natural huskiness that added such quality to her voice when she sang. ‘And see what happens.’

      What had happened was that she had spent every evening after her show with him, and if she didn’t happen to be working in the evening then she had dinner with him too. The days spent in rehearsals, or sunning herself on deck, understanding Zack’s need to establish a relationship with his son, the self-possessed little boy she saw him with on deck very much in need of his father’s love and reassurance.

      By the last night of the