âDARLING Shannon! Congratulations. A great little film.â
Shannon Cleary turned from the group she was with to accept an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. âThanks, Lloyd. I hope youâll say so in your review.â Half the country read his column.
âBut of course, darling! I always said youâre one of New Zealandâs most promising young directors.â His eyes shifted to somewhere beyond her. âExcuse me, thereâs someone I must seeâ¦â He patted her shoulder and disappeared into the crowd milling about the foyer of Aucklandâs trendiest cinema.
Shannonâs escort, a hand at her waist, murmured in her ear, âPretentious little hypodermic.â
Shannon laughed, but the laughter snagged in her throat when a few yards away a dark masculine head turned at the sound, and gleaming obsidian eyes under thick black lashes and resolute brows caught her gaze and held it.
Her own eyes widened and her heart made a weird convolution. Everything seemed suddenly sharper, painfully clear and bright, as if she were looking through a lens being brought into perfect focus.
She was conscious of the babble of voices, of Craig Sloaneâs protective arm at her back, of the gilt-framed mirrors on the foyer walls reflecting the colours of womenâs dresses, a flash of jewellery, and then a glimpse of her own face stark with shockâlips slightly parted, the green irises of her eyes almost obliterated by the darkened centres as she wrenched her gaze from the man who was looking at her with undiluted attention.
The reflection was blocked out as he moved toward her, and she concentrated on the immaculate white shirt he wore under a perfectly tailored jacket, until he stood in front of her and the well-remembered wine-dark voice said, âShannonâ¦â
Somehow the other people around melted away, all except Craig. His hand tightened on her waist, and she was thankful because her knees were threatening to buckle.
Forcing her expression to a wooden indifference, Shannon dredged up her voice from where it had retreated deep into her lungs. âDevin. What are you doing here?â
His brows lifted a fraction. âI came to see your film. Your first directorâs credit on a full-length feature, isnât it?â
âYes.â Shannonâs voice was stiff. âI hope you enjoyed it.â
Straight black lashes flickered, his glance sharpening as though looking for a hidden meaning. Then he seemed to relax, one hand in a pocket of his trousers. The sculpted mouth moved in the barest semblance of a smile. âVery much.â He paused, moved his appraising gaze to Craig and said coolly, âYou were good too.â Craig had filled the lead male role as a young city man lost in the bush and discovering his own inner strengths and weaknesses.
âHe did a superb job.â Glad of the excuse to look away from Devin, Shannon turned a warm smile on Craig. âIâm lucky to have worked with him.â
Craigâs answering white-toothed smile and sparkling blue eyes showed his elated mood. âThanks, hon.â He bent and kissed her mouth, a friendly peck. âThatâs mutual.â
Devinâs eyes had gone hard, with the glitter of polished steel. âArenât you going to introduce me?â he asked Shannon.
âCraig,â she said fatalistically, âthis is Devin.â
âHi.â Craig held out his hand, and after a moment Devin took it in a firm grip.
âDevin Keynes,â he said.
âKeynes?â Craig looked tentatively impressed.
âShannonâs husband.â Devin threw a lightning glance at her.
âEx-husband,â she immediately corrected.
Craig looked from her to Devin, obviously startled.
Devin ignored him. âI donât recall getting a divorce.â
More sharply than sheâd meant to, Shannon reminded him, âWeâre not married anymore.â
âThe law says we are.â
âThatâs easily fixed.â She wished she were tall enough not to have to look up to meet his eyes.
âDo you have plans to remarry?â he asked her, a deadly mockery lacing his voice.