at the sound of that voice, looking straight into Zack’s scornful green eyes. She felt all the colour drain from her face.
‘The days when I would bring you a gift after one of your shows are long gone,’ he drawled hardly, his gaze raking over her critically.
She seemed to have stopped breathing, as affected by the deep timbre of his voice as she always had been, pain tightening her chest as she saw the contempt for her in his face. He looked impressive in the black evening suit and white silk shirt, his skin tanned a deep brown, as if he had recently been on holiday. Maybe he had taken his yacht ‘Joanne’ to the Greek islands as he liked to do in the spring. Maybe he had even renamed the yacht for his daughter …
She ignored the taunt he had made about bringing her gifts; she had returned every one of those expensive baubles when she walked out of his life. ‘I thought you were the waiter with my dinner,’ she explained stiffly. ‘Would you mind waiting while I go and dress?’ She picked up the black gown she was to wear for her second show. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Why not dress in here?’ He lowered his long length into an armchair, taking out a lighter to put the flame to the cigarette he had just taken from his gold case.
‘I thought you had given up smoking,’ Cynara said without thinking, blushing as he looked at her coldly, dark brows raised at her audacity.
‘I started again,’ he said abruptly. ‘I said why not dress in here, we always used to talk while you changed between shows.’
The blush deepened in her cheeks. ‘We used to do a lot of things we no longer do,’ she mumbled.
‘I want to talk to you,’ Zack bit out hardly. ‘And I don’t intend waiting.’
Anger flared briefly in her eyes, and then it faded. Zack had a right to be angry with her, he had asked her to be his wife and she had refused him in the most humiliating way possible. She had hurt him very badly, and it was obvious, even though he had been reconciled with Joanne, that he hadn’t forgiven her for it.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to,’ she told him calmly, having no intention of dressing in front of him. ‘Or not talk to me at all.’
His mouth tightened ominously as he met the stubborn challenge in her eyes. ‘Go and dress,’ he finally instructed. ‘But I don’t intend waiting longer than five minutes,’ he warned.
It took her almost that amount of time to stop trembling long enough to zip up her dress. Even though she knew Zack owned the hotel, was actually staying here at the moment, had been conscious of his stare all during her show, she hadn’t imagined he would come to her dressing-room like this; the last time they had spoken he had made it plain they had nothing more to say to each other.
But she knew the coldly controlled man he had become wouldn’t allow her a second over the five minutes he had allowed her, quickly reapplying her make-up and brushing her hair. The sparkle that had always been present in her eyes in the past was noticeably absent, but that couldn’t be helped.
‘The waiter delivered your dinner,’ Zack told her coldly once she rejoined him, looking disgustedly at the chicken sandwich. ‘I won’t take it off your fee if you order dinner over five pounds,’ he drawled scornfully.
She shrugged. ‘The sandwich will do just fine.’
‘If you say so.’ He gave a dismissive grimace. ‘I believe you had lunch with my son Michael today.’ His eyes narrowed questioningly.
She sighed, wondering what Michael had told his father about the meeting; nothing good if his angry exit from the coffee-shop were anything to go by. ‘I wouldn’t exactly say that,’ she drawled. ‘I had already finished my meal when he joined me, and he left before he had time to eat his.’
‘Just what exactly did you tell my son about us, Cynara?’ Zack rasped.
Her eyes widened at his accusing tone. ‘I didn’t tell him anything—–’
‘You can’t tell me he already knew about our affair,’ Zack sat forward tensely.
‘Your father—–’
‘Would hardly tell a child of his father’s indiscretions,’ he denied harshly. ‘According to you my father is responsible for most of the world’s sins,’ he bit out coldly. ‘You always were paranoid about him!’
‘Paranoid!’ she gasped indignantly.
‘Yes!’ His eyes glittered angrily. ‘Damn it, the man’s been dead for six months, at least let him lay in peace.’
‘Why should I, he didn’t let me live in peace!’ she flared. ‘And he did tell Michael that we were once lovers! Your son blandly sat across the table from me at lunchtime and said as much.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Then what do you believe?’ she demanded furiously. ‘That I would boast to a ten-year-old boy of how I once went to bed with his father? Credit me with a little more compassion than that, Zack. Especially as you returned to his mother after me.’
His head snapped back. ‘What?’
‘Congratulations on your daughter, Zack.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘If she looks anything like her mother I’m sure she’s beautiful.’ She had seen a picture of Joanne once, a beautiful blonde woman, with kind blue eyes.
‘Kelly is exactly like Joanne,’ he told her abruptly, seeming lost in thought.
She would have liked to have said how sorry she was about Joanne’s death, but perhaps in the circumstances it would be in bad taste. ‘What did Michael tell you about our meeting?’
Zack’s mouth tightened as he stubbed out another cigarette, the ashtray fast filling up. ‘I’d rather not discuss it—–’
‘You can’t come in here breathing fire and throwing out accusations without giving me a chance to defend myself,’ she snapped. ‘I have a right to know what Michael told you—or perhaps I should just go and ask him myself?’
‘That might be a little difficult,’ Zack lit up another cigarette.
‘Why might it? And will you please stop smoking?’ She frowned at his fourth cigarette in twenty minutes.
His mouth twisted. ‘You always were a little nag about that.’ But he stubbed out the cigarette after smoking only a quarter of it.
‘I wasn’t a nag, I just thought it a rather stupid way to kill oneself. But my concern this time was all for myself, the smoke doesn’t do my voice any good!’
Dark brows rose. ‘Is that your excuse for your earlier show?’
Her mouth tightened. ‘If you weren’t satisfied I’m sure my agent would be pleased to discuss the termination of my contract with you,’ she was stung into replying, well aware of how she had sounded out on stage tonight.
‘You’ll do,’ he dismissed indifferently. ‘That husky quality in your voice always was as sexy as hell. It seems a pity your career hasn’t reached the heights of stardom that you craved so much,’ he derided. ‘Why is that, Cynara?’ He raised
