She might as well make herself comfortable, she decided. There was no telling how long it might be before Damon showed up. She shrugged out of the black velvet cloak and tossed it on the long couch before an open fieldstone fireplace. She smoothed the amber chiffon of her gown with quick, trembling fingers, then realized how the gesture betrayed her nervousness, and deliberately stilled her hands.
Good heavens, she was acting as if she were Damon's date for the night instead of that gorgeous actress. Why had she worn this gown anyway? Maybe it would have been better to be cool and businesslike. She had instinctively armored herself for the coming interview in the only way she knew: by making herself look as alluring as possible. Enough men had told her she was attractive for her to believe that it was at least partially true. Some of them hadn't even had anything to gain by telling her, so maybe… Oh, what difference did it make? She wasn't in some kind of competition. Damon either would or would not do what she wanted.
She settled herself comfortably on the couch and gazed around the room, searching for a clue to the personality and character of the man who used it. The contemporary furniture was all in earth colors-browns, beiges, and rusts. The lines were clean and comfortable yet austere. No clues there. The paintings on the walls also told her little. The works of El Greco, Delacroix, Titian, Russell, and Remington hung side by side. Damon evidently had varied and definite tastes. The painting over the fireplace, hung in a position of prominence, could be presumed to be a favorite of Damon's. Perhaps it revealed something of the man.