Fairytale by MAGGIE SHAYNE

at her. And always that old,
well-worn anger simmering just below the surface. Crossing him
would not be pleasant. Especially if he caught on. And fooling him
would not be easy.
    She fingered the pendant she wore, and
ordered herself to calm down.
    He was looking around the greenhouse now,
turning slowly, so she could better appreciate the lines of his
face. Harsh and angular. A straight Roman nose and wide-set
almond-shaped eyes. He had the eyes of a wizard, she thought.
Hypnotic, mesmerizing. Eyes like an oracle. They seemed capable of
seeing everything, right to the soiled hubs of her soul. And the
thick, sensual lips...the ones she’d tasted so often in her
dreams.
    He turned then, caught her staring at his
mouth, and one corner of it twitched. His eyes registered sensual
awareness, followed by a flare of alarm. Both of which he concealed
almost immediately. “This is quite a place.”
    She thought of her mission, thought of the
classified ad Zaslow had shown her. And tried not to think about
Adam’s lips, and not to look at his eyes.
    “Thanks. It better be, I guess. I’m stuck
here for a few weeks. That’s why I wasn’t opening today, in fact. I
need time to pack up some things . . .” She let her voice trail off
as his sharp eyes narrowed, probing hers. And she couldn’t help it
when she looked away.
    “Why’s that?” he asked, his voice soft and
wary. As if he were fully expecting—even awaiting—the lie she was
about to tell.
    She was not a good liar. She’d always been
far better at thievery and forgery than outright, face-to-face
deception. Her entire life, as far back as she could remember,
she’d never been able to tell a lie to someone’s face without
seeing Sister Mary Agnes, arms crossed over the front of her black
habit, one foot tapping the floor, staring her down until she
squirmed. For a while, she’d seen that vision face to face. Now she
only saw it in her mind, but it was no less effective. She writhed
inside.
    “Radon,” she blurted.
    Oh, yes. She’d nearly forgotten the other
reason she never lied. Because she was so utterly terrible at
it.
    He crooked that one golden brow again, his
eyes still piercing her. “Radon?”
    She nodded, turning away from his knowing
stare, absently straightening the amaryllis at her right, letting
her eyes drink in the perfection of its large white trumpets rather
than face this man as she lied to him. “My house is built over an
old shale bed, and it turns out there’s radon seeping into the
basement. It causes cancer, you know.”
    “I remember hearing that somewhere.”
    Of course he did, she thought. It was last
week’s lead topic on “20/20.” “I have to move out until it’s safe
again.”
    “That shouldn’t take long, should it? A
couple of days, maybe?”
    She paused, biting her lip, her back still to
him. “Well, then there’s all that construction. The entire basement
needs to be...er...radon-proofed.”
    “Of course it does,” he said, and the sarcasm
was so subtle, she couldn’t be sure it was there.
    She grated her teeth, and made herself face
him, trying to read his eyes, but he’d put up some kind of
invisible shield. One she thought was as effective as the glasses
she wore. She was shocked that his eyes told her nothing. That had
never happened to her before.
    “I don’t suppose you’ve considered staying in
a hotel?”
    She shook her head quickly. “Can’t afford it.
All that construction and all...” He probed again, silencing her,
but this time she held his gaze. She was determined to see whether
he believed a word she’d said, or was just letting her make a fool
of herself for his amusement. And still his eyes revealed
nothing.
    Except that, bathed in the sunlight streaming
down from above, they turned from dark, mesmerizing sapphire, to a
lighter shade with flecks of turquoise appearing here and
there.
    “Your shop is nice,” he put in. “But it’s
small. Where are you going to sleep?”
    She shrugged.