The Art of Deception

demanded. “Do you think it strange that I’d want a family?” She made a quick, furious movement that had the gold jangling again. “This might come as a shock, but I have needs and feelings almost like a real person. And I don’t have to justify myself to you.”
    She was halfway to the door before he could stop her. “Kirby, I’m sorry.” When she tried to jerk out of his hold, he tightened it. “I am sorry.”
    “For what?” she tossed back.
    “For hurting you,” he murmured. “With stupidity.”
    Her shoulders relaxed under his hands, slowly, so that he knew it cost her. Guilt flared again. “All right. You hit a nerve, that’s all.” Deliberately she removed his hands from her shoulders and stepped back. He’d rather she’d slapped him. “Give me a cigarette, will you?”
    She took one from him and let him light it before she turned away again. “When I accepted Stuart’s proposal—”
    “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
    “I don’t leave things half done.” Some of the insolence was back when she whirled back to him. For some reason it eased Adam’s guilt. “When I accepted, I told Stuart I wasn’t in love with him. It didn’t seem fair otherwise. If two people are going to have a relationship that means anything, it has to start out honestly, don’t you think?”
    He thought of the transmitter tucked into his briefcase. He thought of McIntyre waiting for the next report. “Yes.”
    She nodded. It was one area where she wasn’t flexible. “I told him that what I wanted from him was fidelity and children, and in return I’d give him those things and as much affection as I could.” She toyed with the cigarette, taking one of her quick, nervous drags. “When I realized things just wouldn’t work for either of us that way, I went to see him. I didn’t do it carelessly, casually. It was very difficult for me. Can you understand that?”
    “Yes, I understand that.”

    It helped, she realized. More than Melanie’s sympathy, more even than her father’s unspoken support, Adam’s simple understanding helped. “It didn’t go well. I’d known there’d be an argument, but I hadn’t counted on it getting so out of hand. He made a few choice remarks on my maternal abilities and my track record. Anyway, with all the blood and bone being strewn about, the real reason for him wanting to marry me came out.”
    She took a last puff on the cigarette and crushed it out before she dropped into a chair. “He never loved me. He’d been unfaithful all along. I don’t suppose it mattered.” But she fell silent, knowing it did. “All the time he was pretending to care for me, he was using me.” When she looked up again, the hurt was back in her eyes. She didn’t know it—she’d have hated it. “Can you imagine how it feels to find out that all the time someone was holding you, talking with you, he was thinking of how you could be useful?” She picked up the piece of half-formed wood that would be her anger. “Useful,” she repeated. “What a nasty word. I haven’t bounced back from it as well as I should have.”
    He forgot McIntyre, the Rembrandt and the job he still had to do. Walking over, he sat beside her and closed his hand over hers. Under them was her anger. “I can’t imagine any man thinking of you as useful.”
    When she looked up, her smile was already spreading. “What a nice thing to say. The perfect thing.” Too perfect for her rapidly crumbling defenses. Because she knew it would take so little to have her turning to him now and later, she lightened the mood. “I’m glad you’re going to be there Saturday.”
    “At the party?”

    “You can send me long, smoldering looks and everyone’ll think I jilted Stuart for you. I’m fond of petty revenge.”
    He laughed and brought her hands to his lips. “Don’t change,” he told her with a sudden intenseness that had her uncertain again.
    “I don’t plan on it. Adam, I— Oh, chicken fat, what’re you doing here? This is a private conversation.”
    Wary, Adam turned his head and watched Montique bounce into the room. “He won’t spread gossip.”
    “That isn’t the point. I’ve told you you’re not allowed in here.”
    Ignoring her, Montique scurried over and with an awkward leap plopped into Adam’s lap. “Cute little devil,” Adam decided as he scratched the floppy ears.
    “Ah, Adam, I wouldn’t do that.”
    “Why?”
    “You’re only asking for trouble.”
    “Don’t be