The Art of Deception

out of her eyes and leaned back—a naked, erotic Sherlock Holmes. “Adam, have you an alibi?”
    With a half smile, he ran the damp abrasive sponge through his hands. “I’ve been seducing Polly all afternoon.”
    Her eyes lit with amusement. She’d known he had potential. “That won’t do,” she said soberly. “It wouldn’t take above fifteen minutes to seduce Polly. You have a black dinner suit, I suppose.”
    “Circumstantial evidence.”
    “A search warrant,” Fairchild chimed in, inspired. “We’ll get a search warrant and go through the entire house.”
    “Time-consuming,” Kirby decided. “Actually, Papa, I think we’d best look to Cards.”
    “The butler did it.” Fairchild cackled with glee, then immediately sobered. “No, no, my suit would never fit Cards.”
    “True. Still, as much as I hate to be an informer, I overheard Cards telling Tulip he intended to take your suit.”
    “Trust,” Fairchild mumbled to Adam. “Can’t trust anyone.”
    “His motive was sponging and pressing, I believe.” She sank down to her neck and examined her toes. “He’ll crumble like a wall if you accuse him. I’m sure of it.”
    “Very well.” Fairchild rubbed his thin, clever hands together. “I’ll handle it myself and avoid the publicity.”
    “A brave man,” Kirby decided as her father strode out of the room. Relaxed and amused, she smiled at Adam. “Well, my bubbles seem to be melting, so we’d better continue this discussion some other time.”

    Reaching over, Adam yanked the chain and drew the old-fashioned plug out of the stupendous tub. “The time’s coming when we’re going to start—and finish—much more than a conversation.”
    Wary, Kirby watched her water level and last defense recede. When cornered, she determined, it was best to be nonchalant. She tried a smile that didn’t quite conceal the nerves. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
    “I intend to,” he said softly. Without another word, he rose and left her alone.
     
    Later, when he descended the stairs, Adam grinned when he heard her voice.
    “Yes, Tulip, I drank the horrid stuff. I won’t disgrace you by fainting in the Merrick living room from malnutrition.” The low rumble of response that followed was dissatisfied. “Cricket wings, I’ve been walking in heels for half my life. They’re not six inches, they’re three. And I’ll still have to look up at everyone over twelve. Go bake a cake, will you?”
    He heard Tulip’s mutter and sniff before she stomped out of the room and passed him.
    “Adam, thank God. Let’s go before she finds something else to nag me about.”
    Her dress was pure, unadorned white, thin and floaty. It covered her arms, rose high at the throat, as modest as a nun’s habit, as sultry as a tropical night. Her hair fell, black and straight over the shoulders.
    Tossing it back, she picked up a black cape and swirled it around her. For a moment she stood, adjusting it while the light from the lamps flitted over the absence of color. She looked like a Manet portrait—strong, romantic and timeless.

    “You’re a fabulous-looking creature, Kirby.”
    They both stopped, staring. He’d given compliments before, with more style, more finesse, but he’d never meant one more. She’d been flattered by princes, in foreign tongues and with smooth deliveries. It had never made her stomach flutter.
    “Thank you,” she managed. “So’re you.” No longer sure it was wise, she offered her hand. “Are you ready?”
    “Yes. Your father?”
    “He’s already gone,” she told him as she walked toward the door. And the sooner they were, the better. She needed a little more time before she was alone with him again. “We don’t drive to parties together, especially to Harriet’s. He likes to get there early and usually stays longer, trying to talk Harriet into bed. I’ve had my car brought around.” She shut the door and led him to a silver Porsche. “I’d rather drive than navigate, if you don’t mind.”
    But she didn’t wait for his response as she dropped into the driver’s seat. “Fine,” Adam agreed.
    “It’s a marvelous night.” She turned the key in the ignition. The power vibrated under their feet. “Full moon, lots of stars.” Smoothly she released the brake, engaged the clutch and pressed the accelerator. Adam was tossed against the seat as they roared down the drive.
    “You’ll like Harriet,” Kirby continued, switching gears as Adam stared at the