Eye of the Beholder by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

downtown and the Institute,” Alexa said.
    Foster gave her an approving smile. “You’re absolutely right. Next year’s committee will have to consider the idea.”
    Alexa knew that she was supposed to feel warmed by Foster’s approving smile. But for some reason it made her want to grind her teeth.
    â€œWell, here’s to the end of committee meetings,” she said, raising her cup in a mock toast. “I, for one, can’t wait for this year’s festival to conclude.”
    â€œI know it’s been a lot of hard work, but I think itwas just what you needed, Alexa. It was good for you to get involved.”
    As usual, Foster’s well-meant comments ruffled her feathers. She could not get past the sensation that she was being patronized.
    She reminded herself that it was only natural that Webster Bell’s acknowledged right-hand man came across as a self-confident fount of insight. What else could one expect from the number two man at a metaphysical retreat?
    In all fairness, Foster was the living embodiment of the sensitive, New Age male. He was also well educated. On their first date he had skillfully inserted into the conversation the fact that he held two academic degrees, one in philosophy and one in business.
    She refused to be impressed. Deep down inside she knew that she was just as smart as he was. Okay, maybe she was not as
enlightened,
but she was definitely just as smart.
    On their second date she had asked him why, with his academic leanings, he had gone into the assistant guru business. After they had gotten past her insensitive and unenlightened terminology, he had launched into a two-hour lecture on the importance of the search for spiritual meaning in the modern world.
    â€œUltimately, I will be able to do more good working with the Dimensions Institute than I will ever be able to do in the academic or business world,” he’d concluded earnestly.
    Alexa had felt extremely shallow and unenlightened for about a day after that conversation. But she had gotten over it.
    In addition to all his other sterling qualities, Foster was good-looking. Maybe a little too good-looking, Alexa thought. Then again, she was probably just being picky.
    She had seen photos of Foster in the Institute’s brochures and, from time to time, in the
Avalon Herald
. The camera loved him. The pictures emphasized the burnished quality of his golden brown hair and the heroic line of his jaw. In person, however, his greatest feature was the overwhelmingly direct, I-am-deeply-interested-in-you expression in his amber eyes.
    Foster’s seminars were almost as popular as those of Webster Bell himself, especially among the female students.
    No one had been more surprised than Alexa when he had asked her to go to dinner with him shortly after she had dropped out of one of the Institute’s popular meditation seminars. But she had sensed from the start that a relationship with Foster would end the way all of her relationships ended: with a whimper, not a bang. She had been right.
    â€œHave you given any more thought to signing up for another seminar?” Foster asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI really think you would benefit from one of our intensive classes, Alexa.”
    â€œI know you mean well, but I’ve been very busy lately. Besides, that metaphysical stuff just isn’t for me.”
    â€œIt’s for everyone.” He gave her a smile of gentle encouragement. “You didn’t give the program much of a chance, admit it.”
    â€œAll right, so I quit after three weeks.”
    â€œIt takeslonger than that to begin to obtain the full effects, especially for someone like you.”
    â€œSomeone like me?”
    â€œI watched you while you were with us at the Institute. You have a long way to go, Alexa. You need to learn how to let yourself feel, how to live in the here-and-now, how to be free.”
    â€œThanks, but I’m doing