Now You See Her Read online

  “I don’t do parties,” she said, as politely as possible. The last party she had attended had been her own eighth birthday party. She had escaped to her room before the ice cream was served, leaving the little hooligans her mother had invited to scream and fight without her. The ice cream had been Neapolitan, anyway, which she hated, but which her mother always served on the theory that this was the easiest way to satisfy all the children’s ice cream preferences.

  The truth was, Sweeney didn’t do well in crowds, period. Socializing wasn’t her strong point, and she was acutely aware of her shortcomings. She never relaxed, and she was always afraid of doing something totally stupid. Her mother, a great ego-builder, was fond of saying Sweeney had the social grace of a Tibetan goatherd.

  “You should have done this one.” Kai moved closer to her, his fingertips once again touching the inside of her elbow. “The food was fantastic, the champagne never ran out, and so many people were there you couldn’t move. It was great.”

  Kai’s idea of great differed considerably from hers. She was deeply grateful she hadn’t been invited, though she had to admit that she might have been and promptly forgotten about it. Parties were her idea of hell—and speaking of which, what the hell was Kai doing to her elbow?

  Scowling, she lifted her arm away from his touch. She knew Kai was a lover-boy, but he’d never before turned his attentions to her, and she didn’t like it. She made a mental note to return the damn sweater to the back of the closet when she got home.

  “Sorry.” He was astute enough to know his subtle attentions weren’t having the desired effect. He smiled down at her. “Like I said, you look hot. It was worth a try.”

  “Thanks,” she growled. “I’ve always wanted to be worth a try.”

  He laughed, his amusement genuine. “Sure. That’s why your ‘Don’t Touch Me’ sign is high, wide, and flashing bright neon. Ah, well, if you’re ever lonely, give me a call.” He shrugged. “So, what’ve you been up to? Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen you at all for a few months. How’s the work going?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m producing, but I’m not sure what I’m producing. I’m trying some techniques.” That wasn’t the truth, but she wasn’t about to cry on Kai’s shoulder. He didn’t need to know how deeply disturbed she was by the direction her painting had been taking or that she was helpless to stop it. She tried to do the same delicate, almost ethereal work she had done before, but she seemed to have lost the knack. Those damn vivid colors kept getting in her way, and even though she cursed them, she was losing herself in them. And not only were her colors changing, but it seemed as if her perspective was, too. She didn’t know what was going on, but the result was jarring, somehow discordant. She had always been confident about her talent, if nothing else, but now she was so paralyzed by insecurity about her new work that she hadn’t been able to show it to anyone.

  “Oh, really.” He looked interested. Of course, he was paid to look interested, so she didn’t read a whole lot into his expression. “Do you have anything ready to hang? I’d like to see what you’re doing.”

  “I have several canvases ready to hang, but I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  “I think you have only one piece left on display; everything else has sold. You need to bring something in.”

  “I will.” She had to, reluctant though she was. If her new work didn’t sell, she didn’t eat; it was that simple. And they couldn’t sell if she never allowed anyone else to see them.

  Kai glanced at his watch. “The McMillans should be here soon. I hope Richard leaves before then. Candra doesn’t like him coming here at all; she prefers to meet him in the lawyer’s office, so she’ll be furious if he delays her. She’s furious anyway, because he keeps balking.”

  “He doesn’t want the divorce?”

  Kai gave another graceful shrug. “Who knows what Richard wants? All I know is, he isn’t being very conciliatory. Candra seems to have two moods these days: worried or infuriated.”

  Infuriated sounded like normal behavior during a divorce; worried didn’t. “Maybe she’s changed her mind and wants to back out of the divorce, but doesn’t know how to smooth things over.”

  “Oh, she didn’t want it at all.” His eyes sparkled with the glee of delivering juicy gossip. “From what I gather, Richard’s the one who filed. Candra’s putting a good face on things, acting as if the decision was mutual, but she isn’t at all happy with the split.”

  Abruptly Sweeney felt ashamed of herself, and irritated, too. Candra had supported her professionally, promoted her, steered clients her way. It went against her grain to gossip like this. If only gossip weren’t so titillating. Sweeney tried to control an avid desire to know more, to dig for all the dirty details.

  The temptation was great. Dirt was like fat; it made life more delicious.

  She was saved from herself by the opening of Candra’s office door. She turned and for a brief moment found herself looking directly into Richard Worth’s eyes. It was like being touched with a cattle prod, an unwanted but electric connection. Then Candra appeared, her face pale with fury, gripping his arm and pulling him around as the door slammed shut again, closing out the sight and sound of marital disintegration.

  “Uh-oh,” Kai said with malicious satisfaction. “There’s gonna be murder.”

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Sweeney was numb with shock. She wasn’t certain what had just happened, but she knew something had. For a moment, just a split second, it had been as if she and Richard Worth were linked. She didn’t like the sensation, didn’t want that uncomfortable intimacy. She had always enjoyed her sense of being alone, envisioning herself as a ball that rolled through life, bumping into other lives but not stopping. For a moment, just for a moment, the roll had been halted, and she didn’t know why. He was only an acquaintance, little more than a stranger. There was no reason for him to look at her as if he knew her. There was no reason for her to feel that funny jolt in her stomach, akin to the pleasure she had gotten from the Diet Coke commercial.

  If this was another one of the weird changes that had been going on in her life for the past year, she didn’t like this one any more than she did all the others. Damn it, she wanted things back the way they had been!

  Before she could gather herself, the front doors opened behind her. Kai’s face lit with the smile he reserved for buyers. To her surprise, he didn’t seem to have noticed anything unusual. “Senator and Mrs. McMillan,” he exclaimed, strolling toward them. “How nice to see you. May I get you anything? Tea, coffee? Something stronger?”

  Sweeney swung around as a tall, thin, impossibly stylish woman said, “Tea,” in a languid tone that was almost drowned by her husband’s stronger voice as he said, “Coffee, black.” His tone was as forceful as hers had been die-away.

  To her surprise, Sweeney recognized him. She was notoriously oblivious to current events, but even so, this face had been on television often enough that she knew who he was. If Kai had said “Senator McMillan” before, instead of “the McMillans,” she would have known. Senator Carson McMillan had a charisma that had carried him from city government to the state house, and from there to Washington, where he was in his second term. He had money, charm, intelligence, and ambition—in short, the qualities expected to eventually carry him to the presidency.

  She disliked him on sight.

  Maybe it was the career politician’s practiced suavity that put her off. It wasn’t the ruthlessness she read in him; she understood ruthlessness, having her share of it when it came to clearing out the space and time for her painting. It could have been the hint of disdain that seeped through his charm like the occasional whiff of sewer gas coming from a drainage grate. He was the type of politician who secretly thought his constituents were either dimwitted or hayseeds, or both.

  On the other hand, he was undeniably striking in looks: about six feet tall, with a certain beefiness through the chest and shoulders that nevertheless stru