Eye of the Beholder

business reputation to consider. I assume it's important to you."
    "I think that goes without saying. Why?"
    "You won't do anything stupid until you've got your facts straight, will you?"
    "Stupid?"
    "Something really dumb." She paused deliberately. "You know, the kind of thing that might make you and, therefore, Avalon Resorts, Inc., look bad."
    "I didn't build Avalon Resorts by doing stupid stuff."
    "Good." Picking up her own cup, she stepped around him and led the way back out into the living room. "I'll cling to that straw, if you don't mind."
    "You don't look like the clinging type, but suit yourself." He followed her and watched her curl up on the chaise longue . "It won't make any difference one way or the other."
    She studied him over the rim of her cup, wishing she could read his mind. "You'll probably say that I don't have any right to ask this, but I want you to promise me something."
    He looked cautiously intrigued. "What's that?"
    "I want your word of honor that you will talk to me about any so-called evidence you turn up here in Avalon before you leap to any conclusions concerning Lloyd Kenyon's role in your father's death."
    He pondered that for a while. "Why not?"
    Too easy, she thought. She had a feeling he had spotted some loopholes that she had not noticed. She'd better tighten the net. "Or before you make any similar leaps concerning Mr. Guthrie."
    "What the hell do you care about Guthrie?"
    "Very little. I don't even know the man. But since he and Lloyd were once partners, I don't want you putting two and two together and coming up with five."
    Trask grunted but said nothing.
    "In other words," she continued very deliberately, "I want you to run any and all your evidence by me before you conclude that the two of them formed a conspiracy to get rid of Harry Trask."
    "Alexa—"
    "Hear me out." The unfamiliar adrenaline of recklessness surged through her again. "You don't know it yet, but when those art critics write their reviews you're going to find out that I have made Avalon Resorts, Inc., the owner of one of the most distinguished corporate collections of art and antiques in the Art Deco style outside of New York ."
    He was silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then he gave her a quizzical look. "So?"
    "So you owe me."
    Mocking disbelief flashed in his expression. "I beg your pardon?"
    "I worked for a fraction of the consulting fee I should have charged you through Edward Vale. The least you can do to make up for taking advantage of me is give me your word."
    "What the hell are you talking about?" Genuine outrage replaced the cold amusement in his eyes. "I didn't take advantage of you."
    "Yes, you did. You just weren't aware of it at the time. I'm willing to overlook that in exchange for your promise not to move against Lloyd or Guthrie until you've talked to me about any facts you uncover."
    He fell silent again. For a long time. Longer than she could hold her breath, she discovered.
    "All right," Trask said after an eternity. "I promise."
    He finished his tea and put down the cup. Then he got up and walked out the front door without once looking back.
    Yes, indeed, Alexa thought as she listened to the sound of the Jeep's engine recede into the night. Lucky for Trask he hadn't come here bent on seduction.
    No telling what might have happened, her being such a wild woman and all.
    A few minutes later, when she went to put the empty cups into the sink, she discovered that her hands were still trembling slightly.
    The thing about taking risks, she decided, was that it was hard on the nerves.
    She was as aware of the attraction between them as he was. He had seen it in her fortune-telling eyes. He wondered what would have happened if he'd kissed her.
    Dumb question. Trask tightened his hand on the wheel and watched the narrow strip of pavement unwind in front of the Jeep. He should not even think about getting involved with Alexa Chambers.
    She was Lloyd Kenyon's stepdaughter. And if that wasn't messy enough, she was a scandal-tainted art expert who, at the very least, associated with a known forger by the name of McClelland. She might well have made Avalon Resorts, Inc., the proud owner of the largest collection of fraudulent early-twentieth-century art and antiques on the West Coast. Hell, maybe the whole damn country.
    When the reviews and articles appeared in the trade journals he could wake up one morning to find himself a laughingstock among corporate art collectors throughout the nation. The