The Stolen Kiss

The Stolen Kiss by Carolyn Keene Page B

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Authors: Carolyn Keene
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her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace.
    â€œLooks great,” Nancy commented, wondering if she’d be needing her dress for that night’s Omega Chi party after all.
    Debbie came in the front door and walked right by them. “Deb,” Rosie called after her. “Bryan just called on the house phone. He said he got no answer on your phone and your answering machine was turned off. He wanted you to call right away.”
    â€œOkay,” Debbie answered.
    â€œMrs. Shephard called, too. Twice,” Brook added. “She says it’s really important.”
    â€œGot it,” Debbie called back.
    â€œHey, I hear you modeled for Jared’s class today,” Rosie said, eyeing Nancy.
    â€œAre you kidding?” Brook gasped. “Tell all. You’re an honorary sister for the weekend, and we should be the first to know what Michael ‘The Hunk’ Jared is really like.”
    Nancy felt a blush creep up her neck. “He’s very nice and he’s miserable about the theft of his painting.”
    â€œHmmm,” Rosie said, her dark eyes sparkling. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling us everything you know about this guy?”
    Talking about the painting class reminded Nancy to ask the girls if they knew anyone named Kate Robertson.
    â€œOf course,” Chris said, stroking Kabuki. “Kate is a Theta Pi. She’s Debbie’s roommate.”
    So that’s why the blond girl looked so familiar, thought Nancy. She’d never met Kate, but she must have seen a photograph of her. “When did Kate get back from Paris?”
    â€œShe’s not back,” Rosie said.
    â€œBut Kate Robertson was in art class this afternoon,” Nancy told the girls.
    â€œI don’t think so,” Brook said. “We’d have seen her. But ask Debbie. She’d know.”
    When Nancy got to Debbie’s room, the door was closed. Nancy couldn’t tell if Debbie was talking to someone inside the room, or someone on the phone. All she heard was Debbie speaking hysterically.
    â€œI don’t care how hard it is to do. You’ve got to put it back.”
    Nancy’s heart stopped. Put what back?
    First Kiss ? she wondered.
    And who was Debbie talking to? Her mysterious roommate Kate Robertson suddenly back from Paris —if she’d ever been in Paris at all? Or someone else? Nancy’s throat went dry. When Debbie came home a few minutes ago, Rosie had told her to call someone right away. Nancy just remembered who.
    Bryan.

Chapter

Seven
    W ITHOUT WARNING , D EBBIE’S DOOR swung open.
    â€œI was just about to knock,” Nancy blurted out as Debbie, who was dressed in a robe, practically bumped into her.
    â€œOh, it’s you.” Debbie closed the door behind her. “More questions?” Debbie snapped. Then bit her lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just exhausted. Any leads on Michael’s painting?”
    â€œNo.” Nancy had to find out who Debbie had been talking to. “How’s Bryan?” Nancy asked.
    â€œWhy?” Debbie sounded defensive.
    â€œI thought I heard you talking to him on the telephone just now,” Nancy said.
    â€œI haven’t spoken to him all day,” she said curtly, starting for the staircase.
    Then who had been on the phone—or in the room? Nancy followed Debbie up the stairs to the bathroom. “When did Kate come back?”
    â€œKate?” She looked at Nancy as if she’d sprouted a second head. “I told you she’s in Paris.”
    â€œNo way. I saw Kate in art class today. Rina was there, too.”
    Debbie gripped the banister and shook her head firmly. “Nancy, whoever you saw, it wasn’t Kate.”
    â€œMichael told me the student’s name,” Nancy insisted. “Kate Robertson.”
    â€œThen Michael’s wrong.” Debbie had reached the second-floor landing. “Or else

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