"It does as far as the media is concerned."
"But it will look unprofessional if I arrive at that auction with you."
Cruz smiled. "Think of me as just another client."
SHE WAS STILL FUMING AN HOUR LATER WHEN SHE walked into the hushed, elegant atmosphere of the Fairstead Gallery with Cruz at her side. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least she looked thoroughly professional in a skirted suit and pumps. Her hair was up in a businesslike twist. She wore her charm bracelet on her wrist. The usual pair of small, discreet amber earrings gleamed in her ears.
Vincent had been left at home. High-end auction houses did not welcome dust bunnies or any other species that possessed more than two legs. They were also highly selective when it came to the two-legged types. The only way a low-rent amber tuner turned part-time antiquities consultant could cross the threshold of the Fairstead was because she had been invited by one of the gallery's high-rent clients.
A number of well-dressed people circulated among the display cases, making notes about the various items that were slated to go on the block. Several uniformed guards stood watch. Lyra spotted two other amber consultants. Both moved routinely in these rarified circles. She knew they had noticed her, also. They gave her veiled what-the-hell-is-she-doing-here looks and then did double takes when they recognized Cruz. She returned the acknowledgments with a dazzling screw-you smile.
She heightened her senses and felt the familiar frisson that told her there was a lot of good amber in the room. She glanced at Cruz and knew he felt it, too. An affinity for amber was one thing they did have in common.
A suave, distinguished-looking man with discreetly enhanced patrician features and a wealth of unnaturally bright silver hair appeared as if by magic. Ignoring Lyra, he beamed at Cruz, displaying a lot of perfect teeth.
"Mr. Sweetwater," he gushed smoothly. "An unexpected pleasure. I'm Valentine Fairstead. I do not recall seeing your name on the guest list, but I am, of course, delighted that you decided to attend the auction."
"Thought I'd take a quick look," Cruz said, glancing casually around at the cases. "But I won't be bidding unless Miss Dore spots something of special interest. I rely on her for all my appraisals."
Horrified shock flashed in Fairstead's eyes. He looked at Lyra as if she were one of the multifooted species not welcome in the gallery.
"Miss Dore?" he repeated somewhat blankly.
"I wouldn't consider buying amber antiquities without her," Cruz said.
To his credit, Fairstead recovered quickly. He bestowed his gleaming smile on Lyra.
"Yes, of course, Miss Dore," he said. "Welcome to the Fairstead Gallery."
"Thank you," she said. It took effort to keep her voice cool and polite, but she managed. "Actually, Mr. Sweetwater is here only because he very kindly offered to escort me today. One of your other guests has engaged my services this afternoon."
"I see." Fairstead was clearly thunderstruck. "Isn't that a little, ah, unusual?"
"I understand that you are going to be auctioning off some extremely unusual amber today," she said just as smoothly. "Rare amber is my specialty."
"Yes, of course," Fairstead said weakly.
Another man in an elegantly tailored business suit and a black and amber tie came toward them. He was tall and well-built with the refined masculine features that Lyra associated with rez-screen anchormen. There was nothing soft or genteel about his eyes, however. They were glacier blue. He gave Cruz a speculative glance and then smiled wryly at Lyra. She recognized him instantly. Wilson Revere was in the news a lot.
"I trust you're not going to tell me that I've already lost my new consultant to my competition, Miss Dore," he said. "I'll be crushed."
"No, absolutely not," she assured him swiftly. "I'm here to consult for you, as arranged, Mr. Revere. I mean, Wilson. Mr. Sweetwater offered to give me a ride, that's all."
Cruz looked amused at being relegated to the role of chauffeur.
"Not like I had anything better to do this afternoon," he said. He inclined his head with cool civility. "Got something special in mind here today, Revere?"
"Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Revere smiled. "I'm looking forward to getting Miss Dore's opinion before I bid on it, however. I wouldn't want to make an expensive mistake."
"No," Cruz said, "you don't want to make any big mistakes."
He was using what Lyra thought of as his professional hit man voice, cold and laced with the promise of doom.
Infuriated, she swung around to face him. She should have worn higher heels, she thought. In her conservative two-and-a-half-inch pumps she was only a couple of inches above his shoulder. The lack of height was not an asset when one was trying to intimidate a man like Cruz.
"If you'll excuse me, I have work to do, Mr. Sweetwater," she said, infusing the words with as much authority as she could muster. Damn it, she was a professional, and she would not let him ruin things.
To her overwhelming relief, Cruz responded politely to the unsubtle hint. "Take your time," he said. "I'll have a look around on my own."
"You do that." Lyra bestowed a warm smile on Revere. "Why don't you show me the item that is of particular interest to you, Wilson?"
"Certainly." He gave Cruz a slyly amused smile and took Lyra's arm.
Together they walked off toward a distant display case. Lyra knew Cruz was watching their backs. She could feel his gaze the entire length of the room.
The Fairstead Gallery specialized in spectacular rare amber jewelry of all descriptions. Rings, watches, cuff links, necklaces, and earrings glowed and glittered in the locked glass cases.
The gallery was also known for the gemstone quality of its raw, uncut, and untuned amber, the most valuable of which were the specimens of rare and exotic varieties.
"I assume the media was right for once?" Revere said in a conversational tone. "You and Sweetwater have resolved your legal issues?"
"There was nothing to resolve. Amber Inc. crushed my lawsuit."
"I trust Sweetwater made it worth your while to rescue that team that got trapped in the ruin?"
"We're still negotiating my fee," she said easily. "Now, why don't you show me the amber that caught your eye?"
"Right over here."
He guided her toward the row of cases set against the back wall. She experienced more than just a frisson of awareness when they got close to the specimens. All of her senses were fully rezzed by the unusual latent energies of the stones on display. The collection was, indeed, impressive. Chunks of rare emerald, ruby, and sapphire amber were arrayed on black velvet in the artistically lit cases. She also spotted some remarkable crystal, jade, and chalcedony amber, all of excellent quality.
"I'm interested in the amethyst piece in the last case," Revere said. "What do you think?"
She walked to the display case and studied the rough, uncut stone inside with all of her senses. The amethyst amber was attractive, showing good color and clarity. But when she probed for the latent energy of the stone, feeling her way into the untuned currents, disappointment whispered through her.
"It's a nice piece," she said. "It would make beautiful jewelry, but its resonating power is weak. Not that most people would notice, of course."
He watched her with a speculative expression. "Only someone who could rez amethyst would care one way or the other."
"Yes.
Revere studied the amber in the case. "You're sure about the latent energy in that stone?"
"Positive."
"Well, so much for that." But he did not look disappointed. Instead, he appeared satisfied, as if she had passed a test. "I'm not interested in making earrings out of that chunk of amethyst."