“Why are you pretending not to know your own wife?” About the Author Title Page PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE Copyright
“Why are you pretending not to know your own wife?”
“Maybe the answer, dear Miss Johnson, is that since my wife was such a spoiled, tiresome woman, I’m doing my best to forget that I was ever married...?”
“Believe me—your wife feels exactly the same way about her crummy, despicable husband!” Flora ground out through clenched teeth.
“That sounds like a fair description of my wife,” Ross drawled smoothly. “In fact, it seems as if you’ve already had the misfortune of meeting the lady. If so, you’ll know that she’s a bad-tempered, completely self-absorbed person, who’s incapable of thinking of anyone or anything—other than her own selfish interests.”
“That’s a really foul thing to say!” Flora cried. “I’m not like that. I...”
“My dear Miss Johnson!” he interjected swiftly. “I was, of course, referring to my wife. Surely you can’t imagine that I was talking about you?”
MARY LYONS was born in Toronto, Canada, moving to live permanently in England when she was six, although she still proudly maintains her Canadian citizenship. Having married and raised four children, her life nowadays is relatively peaceful—unlike her earlier years when she worked as a radio announcer, reviewed books and, for a time, lived in a turbulent area of the Middle East. She still enjoys a bit of excitement, combining romance with action, humor and suspense in her books whenever possible.
Husband Not Included!
Mary Lyons
PROLOGUE
‘IT’S BEEN really great talking to you, Brad. Good luck with your next film—I hear it’s going to be a smash hit!’
The auburn-haired reporter gave the young film star a brilliant smile before swirling around to face the TV camera.
‘Wow! It’s certainly a fantastic party going on here, following the Oscar ceremony,’ she continued, her voice almost breathless with excitement. ‘I’m hoping to have a word later with some of the really fantastic, mega, mega film stars here tonight. But first I’d like you to meet the man who gets my own personal vote for “hunk of the month”. Yes, folks, it’s the winner of the Oscar for Best Screenplay...Duncan Ross!’
The camera swung around to focus on a tall, broad-shouldered figure as the reporter hurried to his side, quickly thrusting a microphone up towards his tanned face.
‘Of course, just about everyone has read your exciting, action-packed novels. Which is why I’m so thrilled to meet you tonight,’ she gushed, an eager smile on her lips as she gazed up at the handsome features of the dark-haired man towering over her diminutive figure. ‘I’m definitely one of your greatest fans!’
‘Er...thank you,’ he muttered, clearly uncomfortable at suddenly finding himself in the spotlight.
‘I’m told your latest book, A Time to Live—A Time to Die, has been on the New York bestseller list for the past twelve weeks?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you must be over the moon at having won an Oscar tonight... right?’
He shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘But, I bet you never imagined that the film of your book, Fear No Evil, would completely sweep the board?’
‘No...er...no, I didn’t,’ he muttered tersely.
‘Hey, come on! I’ve heard all about the famous British reserve, and I can see that you’re definitely a modest kinda guy. But, let’s try and loosen up here, OK?’ the reporter urged, clearly struggling to inject some pizzazz into her interview with such an obviously taciturn and tight-lipped man. ‘I mean, it’s definitely unusual for a film to win so many Oscars, right?’
He raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow before giving a brief shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘I know virtually nothing about the past history of these awards.’
‘OK...’ She sighed, quickly glancing down at the clipboard in her hand. ‘Well, how do you feel about the prize for Best Actress going to the lovely Lois Shelton? I hear that the two of you spent quite some time together on location!’
‘Oh, really...?’ he drawled coldly. ‘Maybe you should find better things to do with your time other than listening to idle, foolish gossip.’
‘Whoops! I guess that’s put me in my place!’ The reporter gave a shrill peal of hollow laughter as he gazed stonily down at her. ‘Well—it’s been a real pleasure talking to you,’ she cooed through gritted teeth, before turning to give the camera a wide smile. ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s meet some more of the wonderful, wonderful people here tonight. But first, a word from our sponsor...’
With a deft flick of the remote control, Marty Goldberg switched off the video recording.
‘Quite frankly, I’ve seen better interviews in pitch-dark, under water!’ he announced, swivelling around in his chair to face the man sitting on the other side of the desk. ‘You’re going to have to do a lot better than that in the future, Ross. A whole lot better!’
Ross Duncan Whitney gazed silently at his literary agent for a moment, before giving a dismissive shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘You know how I loathe all that Hollywood razzmatazz. And I can’t stand stupid, empty-headed women. Especially ones asking impertinent questions about my private life,’ he added grimly.
‘So, who cares about the girl’s IQ?’ Marty demanded in exasperated
