Best of Nora Roberts Books 1-6: The Art of Deception / Lessons Learned / Mind Over Matter / Risky Business / Second Nature / Unfinished Business

“You’ve a good hand with light,” she decided as she studied the emerging painting. “It’s very flattering, certainly, rather fiery and defiant with the colors you’ve chosen.” She looked carefully at the vague lines of her face, the tints and hues he was using to create her on canvas. “Still, there’s a fragility here I don’t quite understand.”

“Maybe I know you better than you know yourself.” He never looked at her, but continued to paint. In not looking, he didn’t see the stunned expression or the gradual acceptance.

Linking her hands together, Kirby wandered away. She’d have to do it quickly, she decided. It needed to be done, to be said. “Adam…”

An inarticulate mutter. His back remained to her.

Kirby took a deep breath. “I love you.”

“Umm-hmm.”

Some women might’ve been crushed. Others would’ve been furious. Kirby laughed and tossed back her hair. Life was never what you expected. “Adam, I’d like just a moment of your attention.” Though she continued to smile, her knuckles turned white. “I’m in love with you.”

It got through on the second try. His brush, tipped in coral, stopped in midair. Very slowly, he set it down and turned. She was looking at him, the half smile on her face, her hands linked together so tightly they hurt. She hadn’t expected a response, nor would she demand one.

“I don’t tell you that to put pressure on you, or to embarrass you.” Nerves showed only briefly as she moistened her lips. “It’s just that I think you have a right to know.” Her words began to spill out quickly. “We haven’t known each other for long, I know, but I suppose it just happens this way sometimes. I couldn’t do anything about it. I don’t expect anything from you, permanently or temporarily.” When he still didn’t speak, she felt a jolt of panic she didn’t know how to deal with. Had she ruined it? Now the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve got to change,” she said lightly. “You’ve made me miss lunch as it is.”

She was nearly to the door before he stopped her. As he took her shoulders, he felt her tense. And as he felt it, he understood she’d given him everything that was in her heart. Something he knew instinctively had never been given to any other man.

“Kirby, you’re the most exceptional woman I’ve ever known.”

“Yes, someone’s always pointing that out.” She had to get through the door and quickly. “Are you coming down, or shall I have a tray sent up?”

He lowered his head to the top of hers and wondered how things had happened so quickly, so finally. “How many people could make such a simple and unselfish declaration of love, then walk away without asking for anything? From the beginning you haven’t done one thing I’d’ve expected.” He brushed his lips over her hair, lightly, so that she hardly felt it. “Don’t I get a chance to say anything?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” Turning her, he framed her face with his hands. “And I’d rather have my hands on you when I tell you I love you.”

She stood very straight and spoke very calmly. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Adam. I couldn’t bear it.”

He started to say all the sweet, romantic things a woman wanted to hear when love was declared. All the traditional, normal words a man offered when he offered himself. They weren’t for Kirby. Instead he lifted a brow. “If you hadn’t counted on being loved back, you’ll have to adjust.”

She waited a moment because she had to be certain. She’d take the risk, take any risk, if she was certain. As she looked into his eyes, she began to smile. The tension in her shoulders vanished. “You’ve brought it on yourself.”

“Yeah. I guess I have to live with it.”

The smile faded as she pressed against him. “Oh, God, Adam, I need you. You’ve no idea how much.”

He held her just as tightly, just as desperately. “Yes, I do.”

Chapter 9

To love and to be loved in return. It was bewildering to Kirby, frightening, exhilarating. She wanted time to experience it, absorb it. Understanding it didn’t matter, not now, in the first rush of emotion. She only knew that although she’d always been happy in her life, she was being offered more. She was being offered laughter at midnight, soft words at dawn, a hand to hold and a life to share. The price would be a portion of her independence and the loyalty that had belonged only to her father.

To Kirby, love meant sharing, and sharing had no restrictions. Whatever she had, whatever she felt, belonged to Adam as much as to herself. Whatever happened between them now, she’d never be able to change that. No longer able to work, she went down from her studio to find him.

The house was quiet in the early-evening lull with the staff downstairs making the dinner preparations and gossiping. Kirby had always liked this time of day—after a long, productive session in her studio, before the evening meal. These were the hours to sit in front of a roaring fire, or walk along the cliffs. Now there was someone she needed to share those hours with. Stopping in front of Adam’s door, she raised a hand to knock.

The murmur of voices stopped her. If Adam had her father in another discussion, he might learn something more about the Rembrandt that would put her mind at ease. While she hesitated, the thumping of the front door knocker vibrated throughout the house. With a shrug, she turned away to answer.

Inside his room, Adam shifted the transmitter to his other hand. “This is the first chance I’ve had to call in. Besides, there’s nothing new.”

“You’re supposed to check in every night.” Annoyed, McIntyre barked into the receiver. “Damn it, Adam, I was beginning to think something had happened to you.”

“If you knew these people, you’d realize how ridiculous that is.”

“They don’t suspect anything?”

“No.” Adam swore at the existence of this job.

“Tell me about Mrs. Merrick and Hiller.”

“Harriet’s charming and flamboyant.” He wouldn’t say harmless. Though he thought of what he and Kirby had done the night before, he left it alone. Adam had already rationalized the entire business as having nothing to do with his job. Not specifically. That was enough to justify his keeping it from McIntyre. Instead, Adam would tell him what Adam felt applied and nothing more. “Hiller’s very smooth and a complete phony. I walked in on him and Kirby in time to keep him from shoving her around.”

“What was his reason?”

“The Rembrandt. He doesn’t believe her father’s keeping her in the dark about it. He’s the kind of man who thinks you can always get what you want by knocking the other person around—if they’re smaller.”

“Sounds like a gem.” But he’d heard the change in tone. If Adam was getting involved with the Fairchild woman… No. McIntyre let it go. That they didn’t need. “I’ve got a line on Victor Alvarez.”

“Drop it.” Adam kept his voice casual, knowing full well just how perceptive Mac could be. “It’s a wild-goose chase. I’ve already dug it up and it doesn’t have anything to do with the Rembrandt.”

“You know best.”

“Yeah.” McIntyre, he knew, would never understand Fairchild’s hobby. “Since we agree about that, I’ve got a stipulation.”

“Stipulation?”

“When I find the Rembrandt, I handle the rest my own way.”

“What do you mean your own way? Listen, Adam—”

“My way,” Adam cut him off. “Or you find someone else. I’ll get it back for you, Mac, but after I do, the Fairchilds are kept out of it.”

“Kept out?” McIntyre exploded so that the receiver crackled with static. “How the hell do you expect me to keep them out?”

“That’s your problem. Just do it.”

“The place is full of crazies,” McIntyre muttered. “Must be contagious.”

“Yeah. I’ll get back to you.” With a grin, Adam switched off the transmitter.

Downstairs, Kirby opened the door and looked into the myopic, dark-framed eyes of Rick Potts. Knowing his hand would be damp with nerves, she held hers out. “Hello, Rick. Papa told me you were coming to visit.”

“Kirby.” He swallowed and squeezed her hand. Just the sight of her played havoc with his glands. “You look mar-marvelous.” He thrust drooping carnations into her face.

“Thank you.” Kirby took the flowers Rick had partially strangled and smiled. “Come, let me fix you a drink. You’ve had a long drive, haven’t you? Cards, see to Mr. Potts’s luggage, please,” she continued without giving Rick a chance to speak. He’d need a little time, she knew, to draw words together. “Papa should be down soon.” She found a club soda and poured it over ice. “He’s been giving a lot of time to his new project; I’m sure he’ll want to discuss it with you.” After handing him his drink, she gestured to a chair. “So, how’ve you been?”