Men in suits and women in ostentatious jewelry choked the gallery. Knots of people stood under artfully lit paintings, debating their merits furiously. Waiters carried trays of pink champagne and caviar entrees. Thousands of dollars’ worth of art was bargained on while soft music rose over the chatter, and Ryan Morgan drifted already, his attention not so much on the canvases displayed on the walls, but on the lavish buffet table at the back of the room.
The pockets of his jacket were deep, and he aimed to get two meals out of this, one eaten here and the other smuggled out to be eaten tomorrow. It wasn’t like he wasn’t getting paid for being on the arm of a flighty, blonde socialite, but the money he earned tonight would have to pay his electricity bill tomorrow before he got cut off. An
