The Art of Deception

oldest friend.
    Pale blond hair was elegantly styled around a heart-shaped face. Cheekbones, more prominent than Kirby’s, were tinted expertly. The Cupid’s-bow mouth was carefully glossed in deep rose. Kirby decided, as she did regularly, that Melanie Burgess had the most perfect profile ever created.
    “You look wonderful, Melly. Did you have fun?”
    Melanie wrinkled her nose as she brushed off the seat of her chair. “Business. But my spring designs were well received.”
    Kirby brought up her legs and crossed them under her. “I’ll never understand how you can decide in August what we should be wearing next April.” She was losing the power of the wood. Telling herself it would come back, she set it on the table, within reach. “Have you done something nasty to the hemlines again?”

    “You never pay any attention anyway.” She gave Kirby’s sweater a look of despair.
    “I like to think of my wardrobe as timeless rather than trendy.” She grinned, knowing which buttons to push. “This sweater’s barely twelve years old.”
    “And looks every day of it.” Knowing the game and Kirby’s skill, Melanie switched tactics. “I ran into Ellen Parker at 21.”
    “Did you?” After lacing her hands, Kirby rested her chin on them. She never considered gossiping rude, particularly if it was interesting. “I haven’t seen her for months. Is she still spouting French when she wants to be confidential?”
    “You won’t believe it.” Melanie shuddered as she pulled a long, slender cigarette from an enameled case. “I didn’t believe it myself until I saw it with my own eyes. Jerry told me. You remember Jerry Turner, don’t you?”
    “Designs women’s underwear.”
    “Intimate apparel,” Melanie corrected with a sigh. “Really, Kirby.”
    “Whatever. I appreciate nice underwear. So what did he tell you?”
    Melanie pulled out a monogrammed lighter and flicked it on. She took a delicate puff. “He told me that Ellen was having an affair.”
    “There’s news,” Kirby returned dryly. With a yawn, she stretched her arms to the ceiling and relieved the stiffness in her shoulder blades. “Is this number two hundred and three, or have I missed one?”
    “But, Kirby—” Melanie tapped her cigarette for emphasis as she leaned forward “—she’s having this one with her son’s orthodontist.”
    It was the sound of Kirby’s laughter that caused Adam to pause on his way up the tower steps. It rang against the stone walls, rich, real and arousing. He stood as it echoed and faded. Moving quietly, he continued up.
    “Kirby, really. An orthodontist.” Even knowing Kirby as well as she did, Melanie was stunned by her reaction. “It’s so—so middle-class.”
    “Oh, Melanie, you’re such a wonderful snob.” She smothered another chuckle as Melanie gave an indignant huff. When Kirby smiled, it was irresistible. “It’s perfectly acceptable for Ellen to have any number of affairs, as long as she keeps her choice socially prominent but an orthodontist goes beyond good taste?”
    “It’s not acceptable, of course,” Melanie muttered, finding herself caught in the trap of Kirby’s logic. “But if one is discreet, and…”
    “Selective?” Kirby supplied good-naturedly. “Actually, it is rather nasty. Here’s Ellen carrying on with her son’s orthodontist, while poor Harold shells out a fortune for the kid’s overbite. Where’s the justice?”
    “You say the most astonishing things.”
    “Orthodonture work is frightfully expensive.”
    With an exasperated sigh, Melanie tried another change of subject. “How’s Stuart?”
    Though he’d been about to enter, Adam stopped in the doorway and kept his silence. Kirby’s smile had vanished. The eyes that had been alive with humor were frigid. Something hard, strong and unpleasant came into them. Seeing the change, Adam realized she’d make a formidable enemy. There was grit behind the careless wit, the raw sexuality and the eccentric-rich-girl polish. He wouldn’t forget it.
    “Stuart,” Kirby said in a brittle voice. “I really wouldn’t know.”

    “Oh, dear.” At the arctic tone, Melanie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Have you two had a row?”
    “A row?” The smile remained unpleasant. “One might put it that way.” Something flared—the temper she’d been prodding out of the wood. With an effort, Kirby shrugged it aside. “As soon as I’d agreed to marry him, I knew I’d made a mistake. I