“If I agreed to this,” she told him, “I would have a few conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“First, I must have complete control over the direction and focus of Vogel’s. I have the final say in all deci
sions. Nothing is exhibited unless I agree.”
“That’s fine. I don’t want to change anything about the gallery. It’s perfect the way it is.”
She searched his expression but couldn’t detect any sarcasm in either his voice or face. “Second, this is business, nothing else.”
“Naturally. What else would it be?”
She frowned, but all she said was, “You accept the conditions, then?”
“That’s all? You don’t want me to get your name in the Social Register?”
She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. Yes, I accept your conditions.”
“Then I accept your offer,” she said solemnly.
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t help smiling at his slightly ironic tone. He smiled back, and she felt the same pleasant jolt she’d felt the first time she’d met him.
She squashed the feeling immediately. This was Garek Wisnewski, she reminded herself. Sure, he could be charming when he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that he personified arrogance and conceit. And in spite of his agreement to her conditions, she didn’t really trust him. She couldn’t shake the sense that he had some hidden agenda, some secret purpose that he wasn’t telling her. He was up to something.
But what?
Chapter Four
Garek detested the symphony. When he felt compelled to attend for one reason or another, he usually escorted Doreen or Amber, but they enjoyed it as little as he did. Amber pretended to like the music but always seemed more interested in looking around the theater from their balcony seats to see who was there than in anything happening onstage. Doreen, whom he suspected of being tone deaf, usually fell asleep about halfway through, her head lolling in time to the flutes. During the intermission, neither Doreen nor Amber ever mentioned the concert. Instead, they estimated the cost of Buffy Vanderhorn’s designer gown and speculated as to whether Tritia Mitchell’s jewelry was real or fake.
Therefore, it was something of a shock to discover that Eleanor not only listened to the music—she listened with intense concentration.
He stared at her, frowning slightly. Seated next to him in the darkened theater, she seemed very small, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. She appeared as fragile and breakable as the strings of the violins being played onstage—and yet, her back was as straight as the conductor’s baton.
The evening wasn’t turning out the way he’d expected. When he’d picked her up earlier, he’d been stunned by her appearance. From the top of her carefully arranged curls, to the beaded silver sheath that hugged her curves, she looked utterly gorgeous.
He’d told her so, but to his annoyance, his voice was husky, like a teenager’s on his first date.
“Thank you,” she’d responded coolly. Distantly. Regally.
She’d kept up her air of nonchalance until they were actually in their seats and the music started. Then her indifference disappeared.
The light from the stage illuminating her expression, he watched as her eyes glistened with each blare of the French horns and her lips trembled with each screech of the violins. The notes and chords, meaningless to him, obviously enthralled her in some way that he couldn’t begin to fathom.
By the time the curtain went down for intermission, her face was glowing—until she caught him looking at her. Then her expression cooled again. “I’ve always liked that particular conductor,” she said as he escorted her out to the lobby. “He can elicit music from an orchestra like no one else.”
“You sound like an expert.”
“Do I?” She shrugged, the movement drawing his attention to her creamy shoulders covered only by a gauze wrap. “Actually, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a symphony. I listen on the radio sometimes. Do you come very often?”
“Occasionally.” The light from the chandelier caused her silver dress to gleam, making it difficult not to stare at her—as he noticed several other men blatantly doing. He put his hand on her elbow and directed her toward the bar. “Some of the people I do business with sponsor the symphony. I have to make an appearance once in a while. Would you like some champagne?”
She gazed at him searchingly. “Do you ever do anything just for fun?”