by Jayne Castle
She gritted her teeth at the condescension in his voice. “I’m cautiously optimistic that I’ll be able to make a living from my writing.”
“I haven’t read any of them myself.”
“Somehow that does not surprise me.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you give me one before you leave?” Preston winked indulgently. “I’ll be glad to take a look at it when I have a chance and give you a critique.”
“That’s very magnanimous of you, but I’m afraid that you’re operating under a totally false assumption, here, Preston.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She gave him her brightest smile. “You’re assuming I want or would value your opinion of my books. I don’t and wouldn’t Besides, I doubt that you’d have time to read them.”
Preston frowned as if vaguely baffled by the fact that the conversation was not going quite as he had planned. His expression cleared quickly, however. With his customary social adroitness, he shifted direction.
“You’re right about the time factor. I have enough trouble just keeping up with the research literature and departmental memos. To say nothing of the time it takes to chase grant money.”
“And heaven knows, seducing attractive new research assistants is practically a full-time occupation in itself, isn’t it?”
Preston’s fine brow furrowed briefly. He wanted something from her, Orchid thought. The fact that he did not find an excuse to end the conversation was a very big clue.
“And then there’s the never-ending effort it takes to publish your assistants’ work under your own name.”
He scowled. “I publish the results of work performed under my direction. I have a right to put my name on those papers.”
“And we mustn’t overlook the amount of time you invest in discreet ass-kissing in order to get funding for your projects.”
Preston reddened. “Now see here, I pull in a hell of a lot of grant money for the institute and don’t you forget it. Grant money is the life’s blood of research.”
“And you use a little para-hyped charisma to get it, not your research credentials. You should have been a politician, Preston.”
Preston’s eyes darkened furiously. He took a step closer to her.
A few more inches, Orchid pleaded silently. You’re almost at the edge of the pool. Just a teensy bit farther.
But just when she was hopeful that his temper would make him careless on the wet stones at the water’s edge, Preston’s face relaxed abruptly into an expression of gentle concern.
Orchid felt the pulse of psychic energy and knew that he was trying to use his talent on her. He was limited by the lack of a prism, but even without someone to help him focus; she knew that he could project very strongly for a few seconds at a time.
She took a step back. “Save it for the next corporate honcho you plan to ambush for grant money. I’ll admit that a little punch of charisma-talent makes your suit and your teeth look really shiny and bright, but the effect doesn’t last long on someone who knows you well, Preston.”
“You’re bitter,” he said gently.
“No, actually, I’m pissed off at you.”
“Because of what happened last year?”
“Because you used me, damn it. I know you faked your marriage agency registration papers. Or maybe you even went so far as to bribe my counselor at Affinity Associates.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know it’s the truth.”
“What makes you so sure?” he demanded.
“Because there’s no way you and I could have ever been matched.” She gave him a triumphant smile. “We don’t have a single thing in common.”
“Ah, now I understand what this is all about.” Preston gave her a compassionate look. “You’re jealous. You want me back.”
“Are you crazy?” She broke off as she caught sight of Rafe coming toward her. Something about his long, gliding pace made her uneasy. She did not need to be any closer to him to feel the energy emanating from him. He was in a dangerous mood. She wondered if her father had grilled him.
Preston turned slightly to follow her gaze. His expression cleared. “Say, that’s your friend Stonebraker, isn’t it?”
The hastily concealed eagerness in his face answered one question, Orchid thought. Now she knew why Preston had sought her out this afternoon. He had wanted to get to Rafe. In his customary fashion, he had used her to accomplish his goal.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Preston put out his hand as Rafe came to a halt. “I’m Dr. Preston Luce. Associate professor in the department of synergistic studies here at the institute. I understand you’re a friend of Orchid’s.”
Orchid felt more energy zap across the psychic plane, A jolt of high-powered charisma-talent hummed briefly in the atmosphere.
Preston’s smile suddenly sparkled with enough warmth and charm to light up a dark room. Orchid noticed that Rafe seemed completely unaffected. Maybe strat-talent conferred some kind of immunity to charisma, she thought. After all, a hunter could not afford to be charmed by his prey.
“You wouldn’t, by any chance be related to the Stonebrakers of Stonebraker Shipping, would you?” Preston asked ingenuously.
“Funny you should ask,” Rafe said.
Orchid was alarmed by the low, baiting drawl of his voice. But before she could react, she sensed the stirring of another strong talent on the metaphysical plane. Strat-talent this time.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured.
Power shimmered, invisible and dangerous, in the air.
Preston frowned. Then he blinked and froze for an instant, a moose-deer caught in the headlights.
Orchid knew the feeling. She swiftly ditched her own simple plans for revenge. It was one thing to arrange for Preston to fall into a reflecting pool. That sort of thing could be passed off as an accident. A full-scale brawl in the middle of Veronica’s wedding, on the other hand, was another matter altogether. Her parents would never forgive her.
She moved quickly to head off disaster. She planted one slender heel squarely on the toe of Rafe’s black leather shoe.
“Rafe’s grandfather is the current president and C.E.O. of Stonebraker Shipping,” she said glibly. “Isn’t that right, Rafe?”
“Yes.” Rafe cut off the small Shockwaves of talent he had been projecting and eased his toe out from under Orchid’s high heel. But he continued to gaze at Preston with the wistful expression of a hungry predator.
Preston blinked again, very rapidly, in apparent confusion. He shook his head and pulled himself together with a visible effort Orchid was almost certain that he did not realize what had happened.
He managed another suave smile. “Your grandfather. Let’s see, that would be Alfred G. Stonebraker, I believe.”
“He’ll be stepping down in a couple of months,” Rafe said. “I’ll be taking control of the company.”
Preston’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Then they immediately narrowed in speculation. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Rafe said. “That’s so.”
Orchid fixed Rafe with a determined look. “Time to mingle.”
“You run along,” Rafe said. “I’ll join you in a minute. I want to have a little chat with Dr. Luce.”
Orchid closed her eyes. Things were out of control. “Uh, Rafe, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Stonebraker’s right,” Preston said cheerfully. “Why don’t you run along and let the two of us get to know each other.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing here, Preston,” Orchid warned.
“Of course I do.” He waved her off. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you again before you leave.”
He was prey at the watering hole, Orchid thought. Blissfully unaware of the predator sneaking up on him in the bushes. In any other circumstances, she would have been more than happy to leave him to his fate. But this was Veronica’s wedding.
She gave Rafe a stern look. “No scene
s. Think of the bride and groom.”
“No scenes,” he promised happily. “Much too primitive.” He did not take his attention off Preston.
Orchid gave up. She turned away and hurried along the gravel path back toward the safety of the herd.
When she reached the main cluster of wedding guests, she headed straight for the wine bar. She did not dare look back to see what was happening at the far end of the garden.
“What can I get for you, ma’am?” the waiter asked politely.
“A large glass of whatever is handy.”
The young man glanced back toward the section of the garden where she had been a few minutes earlier. He studied the tableau of Preston Luce talking with Rafe. An expression of sympathy crossed his face. “Yes, ma’am.”
He reached for a bottle of expensive champagne, poured a glass, and set it down in front of her.
Orchid heard the collective gasp of astonishment from the crowd just as she started to take the first sip. She cringed. She could only hope that Veronica would someday forgive her. She took a long, fortifying swallow of champagne and braced herself.
Then with a sense of deep fatalism, she turned. Everyone was staring at the scene-taking place at the reflecting pool.
Rafe stood at the water’s edge. From Orchid’s vantage point, it was impossible to see the expression on his face, but his posture radiated mild concern and helpfulness.
Preston staggered to his feet in the center of the shallow pool. His white suit was drenched and stained with mud. He ignored the hand Rafe extended toward nun.
As Orchid and the others watched, Preston splashed across the pool in the opposite direction and climbed out on the other side. He scrambled awkwardly over the low rock wall that surrounded the garden and disappeared in the direction of the parking lot.
No one laughed. That would have been very un-meta-zen-syn. The assembled faculty and staff of the North Institute were much too sophisticated for such behavior. But no one seemed very dismayed by Preston’s accident. In fact, the murmur of conversation that went through the crowd sounded suspiciously cheerful to Orchid.
She waited with a stoic sense of inevitability as Rafe walked back toward the crowd of onlookers. She saw him pause here and there to answer questions.
As he drew nearer, she could hear what he was saying.
“He slipped and fell. The stones near the edge of the pool are wet. Got to be careful...”
When he reached her, she saw the look of gleaming satisfaction in his eyes. He reminded her of a wolf-hound returning from the hunt with a rabbit-mouse to lay at its master’s feet. Rafe’s tongue did not actually loll out of the side of his mouth, but she could tell that it was firmly wedged in his cheek.
She was tempted to pat him on the head.
The waiter handed him a glass of blue champagne without waiting to be asked.
Rafe accepted the offering with a surprised nod. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” The waiter met his eyes. “Least I could do in exchange for the pleasure of seeing Professor Luce pick himself up out of that pond. Probably all of the revenge some of us will ever get.”
Rafe looked politely interested. “Revenge?”
“I’m tending bar today to pick up some extra cash. But in my real life, I’m an assistant in Professor Luce’s department at the institute. Last month he published a paper that summarized the results of a year’s worth of my work in the Journal of Synergistic Theory. Didn’t even put my name on the list of research assistants who contributed to the project.”
“Hold on, here,” Rafe said. “If you’re implying that I deliberately tossed Luce into that pool, I assure you, it was an accident.”
The waiter grinned. “Every student of meta-zen-syn knows that there are no true accidents.” Without waiting for a response, he moved off down the bar to pour wine for another guest.
Out of the corner of her eye, Orchid saw her parents walking toward her. She leaned back against the edge of the bar and took another sip of champagne.
“An accident you say?” she murmured.
“He lost his balance and fell. Could have happened to anyone.”
Orchid was suddenly absurdly pleased. “Preston did not fall into that pool by accident.”
Rafe gave her a superior smile. “Remember North’s Second Principle: The struggle for balance and harmony governs all natural processes.”
Anna appeared at Orchid’s side. She smiled serenely at Rafe.
“And in a shining illustration of that important principle,” she said, “it would appear that Professor Luce just lost the struggle to maintain his synergistic balance.”
Orchid was startled to see the undisguised satisfaction in her mother’s eyes. “Mom?”
“Yes, I know dear. It’s not very meta-zen-syn of me to take such pleasure in seeing Preston fall into a pond. But we all have our little lapses. Don’t tell your father.”
“I don’t think Preston fell into that pond.” Orchid glanced at Rafe. “I think he may have had a little help.”
“Nonsense,” Edward said as he strolled over to join the small group. “Your mother is right. Preston just got a sharp lesson in synergistic realignment. Isn’t that so, Mr. Stonebraker?”
Rafe shrugged philosophically. “Like they say, synergy happens.”
Chapter 17
Shortly after midnight, Rafe came awake with the sudden, all-over awareness that Orchid was not asleep. He turned on his side, automatically reaching for her before he remembered that she was not here with him. This was the guest bedroom in her parents’ home. She was in another room down the hall.
Earlier in the evening Edward had explained that no two homes in Northville were precisely identical, but all were built along the same meta-zen-syn aesthetic lines. The principles of simplicity, harmony, and balance dominated. The Adams’ house was a serenely designed structure built around a courtyard. Every room had windowed walls that opened onto the central garden.
Rafe pushed back the covers and got to his feet. He started toward the door and belatedly remembered his trousers. Something told him that it would be very un-meta-zen-syn to be caught wandering naked down the hall to Orchid’s room at this hour of the night. There were those who might view such activity as downright primitive.
He pulled on his trousers, fastened them, and headed toward the door.
Halfway there, he paused again.
He could not feel her presence in the room down the hall.
He freed his senses with a short flash of para-energy, allowing them to absorb the vibrations of the sleeping house. Two people in a single chamber at the far end of the hall. Mr. and Mrs. Adams. But no sensations came from the other bedroom.
Orchid was elsewhere. He turned slowly, listening for her with all of his senses.
She was outside in the courtyard garden.
He walked to the windowed wall of his bedroom and looked out into the night-shrouded scene. Orchid sat in the hollowed-out seat of a moon-washed meditation rock. She had her arms wrapped around her up-drawn knees. The folds of a white robe flowed around her.
He smiled to himself. The lady did have an instinct for the romantic.
He opened the glass door and stepped out into the balmy night. Simultaneously he released a psychic probe onto the metaphysical plane. The brief sense of disorientation lasted only a few seconds. When things steadied, he saw the clear crystal prism Orchid had crafted for him. He sent power through it, watched it shimmer as she tuned its various facets to focus his talent with perfect clarity.
The night opened up around him.
For a moment, he savored the heightened awareness, knowing that through the focus link Orchid was able to enjoy some of the same sensations.
Then he cut off the flow of talent and walked across the meta-zen-syn garden to where Orchid waited for him. He wondered how much longer it would take her to understand that she was his true mate.
He knew she was aware of him, but she said nothing until he reached the ro
ck where she sat. Then she turned her head to look at him.
“You pushed Preston into that pond for me, didn’t you?”
“Why is everyone so convinced that I pushed Luce into that pond? I keep telling you, he slipped and fell.”
She ignored that. “How did you know that I very much wanted him to fall into that pond?”
“It came to me in a blinding flash.” He took a seat on the rock beside her.
“I’m serious,” she said. “How did you know?”
“Telepathy?”
She waved that aside with an irritated little motion of one hand. “Tell me how you knew.”
He was surprised by the urgency in her voice. “It wasn’t as if there were a lot of options. I mean, you had the reflecting pool no more than a couple of steps away and you had Luce almost within pushing distance. There was a certain sparkle in your eye that I have come to know very well. I already knew you didn’t much like the guy. It didn’t require telepathy to figure out what you were thinking.”
“I see.”
“But the synergistic result was very similar to telepathy.” The meditation stones were more comfortable than they appeared, he discovered. He settled into the curved seat, leaned back, and rested his weight on his elbows. “Why does it worry you that we might be developing some kind of psychic connection that goes beyond a focus link?”
She was silent for a moment. “I’ve spent my whole life being different. I’m not sure I want to be any more different than I am already.”
“I can see where you would have felt a little out of place here in Northville,” he conceded.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. I value what I learned here. I even enjoy coming back to visit my relatives. Northville will always be a part of me, but this is not where I belong.”
“I understand.”
“I always knew that I disappointed everyone by failing to pursue a career at the North Institute the way my brothers and my cousins have.”
“Hey, you want to discuss disappointing other people?” Rafe heard the glass door of Anna’s and Edward’s room open behind him, but he did not turn around. “Try walking away from Stonebraker Shipping when everyone in the family expects you to join the company the day you graduate from college.”