Read Online The Color of Light by Helen Maryles Shankman - Free Book Online Page A

with wide shoulders. His neatly clipped hair came to a peak over his forehead, and in the low light his eyes were hidden in shadow. With a sharp little thrill, Tessa recognized the man who’d been waiting in her studio.
    He lingered at the edge of the scene, surveying the crowd. He seemed to be looking for someone. When his gaze fell upon her, she felt a sudden flush of heat, as if someone had breathed on her neck. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, as he came straight towards her, shouldering through the throng of people milling around the bar. And then he went right past her, greeted Levon like an old friend, took his arm and steered him away. The spell was broken. Tessa swung around and headed back with Clayton’s wine.
    Ben, David, Harker and Clayton were hunched forward conspiratorially, their heads almost touching. “He’s not drinking. I told you so.” Clayton stated triumphantly.
    “Who are we looking at?”
    “The vampire! Look, he’s the only person in the room without a glass.”
    Clayton was pointing at the man in the suit. Portia, still stretched out on the rug, was rolling her eyes.
    “Him? He’s not a vampire. He’s just the founder of this whole school.”
    They were too far away to eavesdrop on any conversation. The alleged vampire spoke earnestly to Levon. Listened thoughtfully as Levon responded and rested a hand on his shoulder. Vampire, very passionate about something. Levon, the voice of reason, even if they couldn’t hear him. Finally, they came to some kind of agreement and Levon moved off, carrying a single glass of white wine. The man in the suit turned to Gracie, smiled, said something. She nodded, stepped back. He reached around her, pulled out a green glass bottle that had been hidden under the table. He handed it to her. She uncorked it, poured out something red into a wine glass, which he drank down and set back on the bar.
    “Blood.” Clayton whispered.
    “Definitely.”
    “Oh yeah, it’s gotta be blood.”
    Gracie returned, shoehorned herself in between Clayton and David on the weathered leather couch. “Ooh.” she said, wiggling her luscious tush just a little. “Comfy.”
    “So tell us, Graciela,” said Harker, brushing ash off of his black leather pants, “what was in that bottle.”
    Cautiously, she peered around, then hissed, “Blood, just like you guys thought.”
    “I knew it!” said Clayton, striking his fist on his knee.
    “I’m kidding,” she said, settling back into the kilim pillows. “Some fancy wine. A nice Chianti, I think.”
    “Hey, Portia,” said David. “Auden coming down for a visit any time soon?”
    She propped herself up on her elbows. “Yeah. He’s going to be here for the Halloween Ball. It’s a Friday night, so we get a whole weekend together.” Auden was Portia’s boyfriend, finishing a graduate degree in art history in Philadelphia.
    “I guess we won’t be seeing much of you that weekend,” said Clayton, giving her a wink.
    “No, you won’t.” she said emphatically. “David, how about Sara? When are we going to meet her?”
    “I plan to keep her away from you people for as long as I can,” he replied. “I can barely stand you myself.”
    “Tessa,” said Harker, picking tobacco off of his lower lip, “I hear you work for Lucian Swain.”
    “Yes, I do.” Her mind had been wandering back to the loft on Walker Street.
    “I hear some girl rang his bell once, and when he answered the door, she ripped open her shirt to show him his initials, painted on her breasts.”
    It had, in fact, happened twice. She smiled, remembering his face when he told her the story over darts at the Brewery. “The Eighties were rock star time for artists.”
    Harker played the signature riff from
Smoke On the Water.
Since he was toting an electric guitar, it didn’t sound like much. “Does he get as much poontang as they say he does? I mean, he’s only one man. If he’s done as many ladies as they say, where did he find the