The Art of Deception

put the painting in my room before we get back.”
    He approved this with a brief nod. “You have a marvelous criminal mind, Kirby.”
    She had to smile. A sense of adventure was already spearing through the panic. “Heredity,” she told her father. “Now, here’s my idea….” Lowering her voice, she began the outline.
    “It’ll work,” Fairchild decided a few moments later.
    “That has yet to be seen.” It sounded plausible enough, but she didn’t underestimate Adam Haines. “So there’s nothing to be done but to do it.”
    “And do it well.”
    Her agreement was a careless shrug of her shoulders. “Adam should be too tired to notice that the Titian’s gone, and after I make the exchange at the gallery, I’ll slip it back into his room. Sleeping pills are the only way.” She stared down at her hands, dissatisfied, but knowing it was the only way out. “I don’t like doing this to Adam.”
    “He’ll just get a good night’s sleep.” Fairchild sat on the arm of her chair. “We all need a good night’s sleep now and again. Now we’d better go back or Melanie’ll send out search parties.”
    “You go first.” Kirby let out a deep breath. “I’ll phone Cards and tell him to get started.”
    Kirby waited until Fairchild had closed the doors again before she went to the phone on Harriet’s desk. She didn’t mind the job she had to do, in fact she looked forward to it. Except for Adam’s part. It couldn’t be helped, she reminded herself, and gave Cards brief instructions.
    Now, she thought as she replaced the receiver, it was too late to turn back. The die, so to speak, had been cast. The truth was, the hastily made plans for the evening would prove a great deal more interesting than a party. While she hesitated a moment longer, Stuart opened the door, then closed it softly behind him.
    “Kirby.” He crossed to her with a half smile on his face. His patience had paid off now that he’d found her alone. “We have to talk.”
    Not now, she thought on a moment’s panic. Didn’t she have enough to deal with? Then she thought of the way he’d humiliated her. The way he’d lied. Perhaps it was better to get everything over with at once.
    “I think we said everything we had to say at our last meeting.”
    “Not nearly everything.”
    “Redundancy bores me,” she said mildly. “But if you insist, I’ll say this. It’s a pity you haven’t the money to suit your looks. Your mistake, Stuart, was in not making me want you—not the way you wanted me.” Deliberately her voice dropped, low and seductive. She hadn’t nearly finished paying him back. “You could deceive me about love, but not about lust. If you’d concentrated on that instead of greed, you might’ve had a chance. You are,” she continued softly, “a liar and a cheat, and while that might’ve been an interesting diversion for a short time, I thank God you never got your hands on me or my money.”
    Before she could sweep around him, he grabbed her arm. “You’d better remember your father’s habits before you sling mud.”
    She dropped her gaze to his hand, then slowly raised it again. It was a look designed to infuriate. “Do you honestly compare yourself with my father?” Her fury came out on a laugh, and the laugh was insult itself. “You’ll never have his style, Stuart. You’re second-rate, and you’ll always be second-rate.”
    He brought the back of his hand across her face hard enough to make her stagger. She didn’t make a sound. When she stared up at him, her eyes were slits, very dark, very dangerous slits. The pain meant nothing, only that he’d caused it and she had no way to pay him back in kind. Yet.
    “You prove my point,” Kirby said evenly as she brushed her fingers over her cheek. “Second-rate.”
    He wanted to hit her again, but balled his hands into fists. He needed her, for the moment. “I’m through playing games, Kirby. I want the Rembrandt.”
    “I’d take a knife to it before I saw Papa hand it over to you. You’re out of your class, Stuart.” She didn’t bother to struggle when he grabbed her arms.
    “Two days, Kirby. You tell the old man he has two days or it’s you who’ll pay.”
    “Threats and physical abuse are your only weapons.” Abruptly, with more effort than she allowed him to see, Kirby turned her anger to ice. “I’ve weapons of my own, Stuart, infinitely more effective. And if I chose to drop to gutter tactics, you haven’t the finesse to deal