The Art of Deception Read Online Free PDF Page A

take you through the house.”
    â€œI’d like that.” Adam took the seat opposite her. She wore no fragrance this morning but soap—clean and sexless. It aroused nonetheless.
    A woman clumped into the room. She had a long bony face, small mud-brown eyes and an unfortunate nose. Her graying hair was scraped back and bundled at the nape of her neck. The deep furrows in her brow indicated her pessimistic nature. Glancing over, Kirby smiled.
    â€œGood morning, Tulip. You’ll have to send a tray up to Papa, he won’t budge out of the tower.” She drew alinen napkin from its ring. “Just toast and coffee for me, and don’t lecture. I’m not getting any taller.”
    After a grumbling disapproval, Tulip turned to Adam. His order of bacon and eggs received the same grumble before she clumped back out again.
    â€œTulip?” Adam cocked a brow as he turned to Kirby.
    â€œFits beautifully, doesn’t it?” Lips sober, eyes amused, she propped her elbows on the table and dropped her face in her hands. “She’s really a marvel as far as organizing. We’ve had a running battle over food for fifteen years. Tulip insists that if I eat, I’ll grow. After I hit twenty, I figured I’d proved her wrong. I wonder why adults insist on making such absurd statements to children.”
    The robust young maid who’d served dinner the night before brought in coffee. She showered sunbeam smiles over Adam.
    â€œThank you, Polly.” Kirby’s voice was gentle, but Adam caught the warning glance and the maid’s quick blush.
    â€œYes, ma’am.” Without a backward glance, Polly scurried from the room. Kirby poured the coffee herself.
    â€œOur Polly is very sweet,” she began. “But she has a habit of becoming, ah, a bit too matey with two-thirds of the male population.” Setting down the silver coffee urn, Kirby smiled across the table. “If you’ve a taste for slap and tickle, Polly’s your girl. Otherwise, I wouldn’t encourage her. I’ve even had to warn her off Papa.”
    The picture of the lusty young Polly with the Pucklike Fairchild zipped into Adam’s mind. It lingered there a moment with perfect clarity until he roared with laughter.
    Well, well, well, Kirby mused, watching him. A man who could laugh like that had tremendous potential. Shewondered what other surprises he had tucked away. Hopefully she’d discover quite a few during his stay.
    Picking up the cream pitcher, he added a stream to his coffee. “You have my word, I’ll resist temptation.”
    â€œShe’s built stupendously,” Kirby observed as she sipped her coffee black.
    â€œReally?” It was the first time she’d seen his grin—quick, crooked and wicked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    Kirby studied him while the grin did odd things to her nervous system. Surprise again, she told herself, then reached for her coffee. “I’ve misjudged you, Adam,” she murmured. “A definite miscalculation. You’re not precisely what you seem.”
    He thought of the small transmitter locked in his dignified briefcase. “Is anyone?”
    â€œYes.” She gave him a long and completely guileless look. “Yes, some people are precisely what they seem, for better or worse.”
    â€œYou?” He asked because he suddenly wanted to know badly who and what she was. Not for McIntyre, not for the job, but for himself.
    She was silent a moment as a quick, ironic smile moved over her face. He guessed, correctly, that she was laughing at herself. “What I seem to be today is what I am—today.” With one of her lightning changes, she threw off the mood. “Here’s breakfast.”
    They talked a little as they ate, inconsequential things, polite things that two relative strangers speak about over a meal. They’d both been raised to handle such situations—small talk,