Read Online Eye of the Beholder by Jayne Ann Krentz - Free Book Online
Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
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both catering to the high end of the market. Being trendy has its price. It costs as much to stay at Dimensions for a week as it does to stay at an Avalon Resort."
"Given the choice, I'll take a week at an Avalon resort over two weeks at Dimensions, any day." Edward shuddered. "At least at an Avalon hotel the client isn't forced to eat tofu and meditate with crystals."
"There is that." Alexa turned around to face him. "Level with me, Edward. What is the art crowd saying about my collection tonight?"
"They're going wild over it." Edward chuckled. "You should hear the reporter from TCA. He's raving about the depth and scope of the collection. No one knows it yet, but you, my dear, are a brilliant success. In the meantime, I, of course, am accepting all the credit."
An exuberant anticipation bubbled up inside Alexa. "I can live with that for now."
"I'm going to take a little group through the east wing to look at the Deskey textiles and the Steuben glass." Edward cocked a brow. "Want to trail along behind us and listen in?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll take my own private tour."
"Just be sure you stay out of Trask's path."
"Don't worry," Alexa said. "He's too busy with his guests to notice me tonight."
"You're probably right. Still, we wouldn't want to take any chances."
"Don't worry, I have it on good authority that I'm the risk-averse type."
"Who told you that?"
"My therapist."
Edward gave her an amused, skeptical look. "If you're so risk-averse, why are you here tonight?"
She tightened her hand around the strap of her small evening bag. "Because tonight is very, very important to me."
Edward gave her a knowing look. "Some risks are worth taking, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"Don't worry, Alexa. It's all going to work out. You'll see, in a few months, you'll be back in business."
"For myself , this time," she vowed. "If there's one thing I've learned since McClelland left me to the wolves, it's that I much prefer to be my own boss."
"I can't blame you for leaping to that conclusion." He started to saunter off.
"Edward?"
He stopped and looked back. "Hmm?"
She smiled. "Regardless of what happens to my career, I want to thank you for everything you've done."
"My pleasure. Besides, we both know I owed you." He raised his well-manicured hand in a small, negligent wave. "Well, I must be off. My tour group awaits ."
When he disappeared into the crowd, she turned and made her way in the opposite direction.
She slipped into the west wing and wandered slowly along the carpeted hall, pausing occasionally to savor some of the 1920s-era paintings she had chosen for this corridor. They were all Southwestern landscapes.
Deco art, she reflected, had been particularly suited to the dramatic play of light and shadow in the desert. The Santa Fe and Taos region had lured the most famous names such as Hartley, Dasburg, and Georgia O'Keeffe. But Avalon had attracted the attention of some very special artists, too.
At the end of the hall, she turned a corner and went up a flight of stairs. On the second floor she was relieved to find herself alone. The entire hotel with the exception of the spa was open tonight, but none of the other guests had migrated this far. She could take her time enjoying her own handiwork.
She moved slowly along the west wing hall. Her high heels sank deeply into the thick carpet. The sounds of music and laughter down below seemed to come from a great distance.
She was bending over a cabinet filled with a representative sampling of Modernist ceramics when she caught the unmistakable gleam of a bronze horn. The light from the 1920s-style wrought iron and etched glass sconces was subdued, but she could have sworn that a lecherous eye winked at her.
She straightened abruptly and stared, outraged, at the familiar bronze peeking out of the small reading alcove at the far end of the hall.
"Edward Vale, you son-of-a-bitch," she breathed. "I take back everything I just said about being grateful. How could you do
"Given the choice, I'll take a week at an Avalon resort over two weeks at Dimensions, any day." Edward shuddered. "At least at an Avalon hotel the client isn't forced to eat tofu and meditate with crystals."
"There is that." Alexa turned around to face him. "Level with me, Edward. What is the art crowd saying about my collection tonight?"
"They're going wild over it." Edward chuckled. "You should hear the reporter from TCA. He's raving about the depth and scope of the collection. No one knows it yet, but you, my dear, are a brilliant success. In the meantime, I, of course, am accepting all the credit."
An exuberant anticipation bubbled up inside Alexa. "I can live with that for now."
"I'm going to take a little group through the east wing to look at the Deskey textiles and the Steuben glass." Edward cocked a brow. "Want to trail along behind us and listen in?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll take my own private tour."
"Just be sure you stay out of Trask's path."
"Don't worry," Alexa said. "He's too busy with his guests to notice me tonight."
"You're probably right. Still, we wouldn't want to take any chances."
"Don't worry, I have it on good authority that I'm the risk-averse type."
"Who told you that?"
"My therapist."
Edward gave her an amused, skeptical look. "If you're so risk-averse, why are you here tonight?"
She tightened her hand around the strap of her small evening bag. "Because tonight is very, very important to me."
Edward gave her a knowing look. "Some risks are worth taking, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"Don't worry, Alexa. It's all going to work out. You'll see, in a few months, you'll be back in business."
"For myself , this time," she vowed. "If there's one thing I've learned since McClelland left me to the wolves, it's that I much prefer to be my own boss."
"I can't blame you for leaping to that conclusion." He started to saunter off.
"Edward?"
He stopped and looked back. "Hmm?"
She smiled. "Regardless of what happens to my career, I want to thank you for everything you've done."
"My pleasure. Besides, we both know I owed you." He raised his well-manicured hand in a small, negligent wave. "Well, I must be off. My tour group awaits ."
When he disappeared into the crowd, she turned and made her way in the opposite direction.
She slipped into the west wing and wandered slowly along the carpeted hall, pausing occasionally to savor some of the 1920s-era paintings she had chosen for this corridor. They were all Southwestern landscapes.
Deco art, she reflected, had been particularly suited to the dramatic play of light and shadow in the desert. The Santa Fe and Taos region had lured the most famous names such as Hartley, Dasburg, and Georgia O'Keeffe. But Avalon had attracted the attention of some very special artists, too.
At the end of the hall, she turned a corner and went up a flight of stairs. On the second floor she was relieved to find herself alone. The entire hotel with the exception of the spa was open tonight, but none of the other guests had migrated this far. She could take her time enjoying her own handiwork.
She moved slowly along the west wing hall. Her high heels sank deeply into the thick carpet. The sounds of music and laughter down below seemed to come from a great distance.
She was bending over a cabinet filled with a representative sampling of Modernist ceramics when she caught the unmistakable gleam of a bronze horn. The light from the 1920s-style wrought iron and etched glass sconces was subdued, but she could have sworn that a lecherous eye winked at her.
She straightened abruptly and stared, outraged, at the familiar bronze peeking out of the small reading alcove at the far end of the hall.
"Edward Vale, you son-of-a-bitch," she breathed. "I take back everything I just said about being grateful. How could you do
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