The Art of Deception

should’ve dealt with it right away.”
    “You’d told me you were having doubts.” After stubbing out her cigarette, Melanie leaned forward to take Kirby’s hands. “I thought it was nerves. You’d never let any relationship get as far as an engagement before.”
    “It was an error in judgment.” No, she’d never let a relationship get as far as an engagement. Engagements equaled commitment. Commitments were a lock, perhaps the only lock, Kirby considered sacred. “I corrected it.”
    “And Stuart? I suppose he was furious.”
    The smile that came back to Kirby’s lips held no humor. “He gave me the perfect escape hatch. You know he’d been pressuring me to set a date?”
    “And I know that you’d been putting him off.”
    “Thank God,” Kirby murmured. “In any case, I’d finally drummed up the courage to renege. I think it was the first time in my life I’ve felt genuine guilt.” Moving her shoulders restlessly, she picked up the wood again. It helped to steady her, helped her to concentrate on temper. “I went by his place, unannounced. It was a now-or-never sort of gesture. I should’ve seen what was up as soon as he answered the door, but I was already into my neat little speech when I noticed a few—let’s say articles of intimate apparel tossed around the room.”

    “Oh, Kirby.”
    Letting out a long breath, Kirby went on. “That part of it was my fault, I suppose. I wouldn’t sleep with him. There was just no driving urge to be intimate with him. No…” She searched for a word. “Heat,” she decided, for lack of anything better. “I guess that’s why I knew I’d never marry him. But, I was faithful.” The fury whipped through her again. “I was faithful, Melly.”
    “I don’t know what to say.” Distress vibrated in her voice. “I’m so sorry, Kirby.”
    Kirby shook her head at the sympathy. She never looked for it. “I wouldn’t have been so angry if he hadn’t stood there, telling me how much he loved me, when he had another woman keeping the sheets warm. I found it humiliating.”
    “You have nothing to be humiliated about,” Melanie returned with some heat. “He was a fool.”
    “Perhaps. It would’ve been bad enough if we’d stuck to the point, but we got off the track of love and fidelity. Things got nasty.”
    Her voice trailed off. Her eyes clouded over. It was time for secrets again. “I found out quite a bit that night,” she murmured. “I’ve never thought of myself as a fool, but it seems I’d been one.”
    Again, Melanie reached for her hand. “It must have been a dreadful shock to learn Stuart was unfaithful even before you were married.”
    “What?” Blinking, Kirby brought herself back. “Oh, that. Yes, that, too.”
    “Too? What else?”
    “Nothing.” With a shake of her head, Kirby swept it all aside. “It’s all dead and buried now.”
    “I feel terrible. Damn it, I introduced you.”

    “Perhaps you should shave your head in restitution, but I’d advise you to forget it.”
    “Can you?”
    Kirby’s lips curved up, her brow lifted. “Tell me, Melly, do you still hold André Fayette against me?”
    Melanie folded her hands primly. “It’s been five years.”
    “Six, but who’s counting?” Grinning, Kirby leaned forward. “Besides, who expects an oversexed French art student to have any taste?”
    Melanie’s pretty mouth pouted. “He was very attractive.”
    “But base.” Kirby struggled with a new grin. “No class, Melly. You should thank me for luring him away, however unintentionally.”
    Deciding it was time to make his presence known, Adam stepped inside. Kirby glanced up and smiled without a trace of the ice or the fury. “Hello, Adam. Did you have a nice chat with Papa?”
    “Yes.”
    Melanie, he decided as he glanced in her direction, was even more stunning at close quarters. Classic face, classic figure draped in a pale rose dress cut with style and simplicity. “Am I interrupting?”
    “Just gossip. Melanie Burgess, Adam Haines. Adam’s our guest for a few weeks.”
    Adam accepted the slim rose-tipped hand. It was soft and pampered, without the slight ridge of callus that Kirby’s had just under the fingers. He wondered what had happened in the past twenty-four hours to make him prefer the untidy artist to the perfectly groomed woman smiling up at him. Maybe he was coming down with something.
    “ The Adam Haines?” Melanie’s smile warmed. She knew of him, the irreproachable lineage and