Page 47 of The Shop on Hidden Lane

The small group muttered, not entirely satisfied.

Anticipation sparked through Sophy. It took her a couple of heartbeats to realize that it was not coming from her own senses.

She turned her head, searching for the source.

“Look up,” Luke said quietly.

She raised her gaze to the low ceiling and saw a small, oblong mirrored panel about the size and shape of a subway tile. It glowed faintly with paranormal energy. The hit of excitement and anticipation was coming at her in small waves. Like all emotional reactions, it was contagious.

The effect on the other guests was immediate and dramatic. The nervous muttering was replaced with a bubbly, slightly intoxicated vibe.

“Way to warm up the crowd,” Luke said into Sophy’s ear.

“Remember to follow the illuminated path through the gallery,” the disembodied voice said. “It is the only route to the exit. For your own safety, please be aware that the velvet ropes that block the entrances to the dead-end corridors are there for your protection. Gallery attendants have been positioned along the path. Please feel free to speak with one if you have questions or are in need of assistance. Enjoy the Art of Light Experience.”

Another set of doors slid open, revealing a deeply shadowed corridor punctuated by two brilliantly lit installations. Another rush of artificially induced anticipation bubbled through the small crowd. People streamed out of the antechamber and began exclaiming over the art.

She and Luke trailed after the others and joined a group gathered in front of the first installation, a glass sculpture in the shape of a large vase. It glowed dramatically thanks to some strategically placed fixtures.

“Spectacular,” someone announced. “Incredible color saturation.”

“I love what the artist did with the design,” another guest offered. “Extraordinarily sensual.”

“Amazing,” a third person said.

They moved on to the next installation. Sophy stepped closer to the glass vase.

“It’s certainly attractive,” she said to Luke. “But I’ve seen a lot of glass art that looks very similar. There’s nothing unique about it.”

“Eye of the beholder and all that,” he reminded her, deadpan.

“True.”

She leaned in to read the small card on the wall. It was inscribed with the title—Sunset—and the name of the artist. In addition to the information, she got something else—a small shock of lust. It felt wrong in every way.

Instinctively she retreated a couple of steps and came up against an immovable object. Luke. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She got another little sensual thrill. This time it was real.

She caught her breath, regained her balance, and put some distance between them.

“Do you feel that?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” There was some heat in his eyes, the kind of energy that enhanced the twist of desire that she had experienced when he touched her a moment ago.

“This is not good,” she said in low tones.

“Not to mention unnecessary, at least as far as I’m concerned.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. The heat is coming from a tile at the base of the pedestal. Take a look.”

She glanced down and saw the dimly lit oblong panel. The faint current of lust was emanating from it.

“What is going on here?” she said.

“Someone has found a very interesting way of manipulating the reactions of the viewers.”

“To drive up prices at the auction?”