by Jayne Castle
Clementine gave a crack of laughter. “Don’t worry, you’ve already earned your bonus. Hell, I couldn’t lure a class-nine talent through the door until you came to work for me. Nines are snobs to the bone. They insist that any prism they work with must have a string of diplomas and degrees. Even eights are awful damn fussy.”
Byron made a face. “Too bad Trent’s talent is such a boring one, huh, Amaryllis? The job might have been kind of exciting under other circumstances. I mean, this is real security work. We don’t get a lot of that.”
“Mr. Trent’s particular talent may not sound thrilling, especially since we’re highly unlikely to uncover a real, live hypno-talent at work,” Amaryllis admitted. “But I think the job will be quite interesting in its own way. At least it will be a change of pace for me. This will be the first time I’ve gone undercover.”
Byron brightened at that news. “Where will you be working?”
“I’m going to hold a focus for Trent on Thursday night at the reception that the New Seattle Museum is hosting to celebrate the opening of the relics wing.”
“What’s this about working undercover?” Clementine frowned. “I thought this was just a straight security check gig. No one said anything about undercover work.”
“It’s no big deal,” Amaryllis assured her.
Byron refused to be discouraged. “I’ll bet Trent has arranged for Amaryllis to masquerade as a member of the catering staff at the reception. That way she’ll have an excuse for being nearby when he wants to link.”
Clementine’s brows rose. “I can see her now in a snazzy little black and white server’s outfit carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Let’s be sure to get a photo before she leaves for the assignment. We can frame it and hang it in the reception lobby. Put a little slogan under it. You know, something along the lines of We Go All Out to Serve Our Clients.”
Amaryllis drew herself up very straight in her chair. “For your information, I won’t be serving canapés or champagne on Thursday night.”
“No?” Clementine eyed her with grave interest. “Is Trent going to get you into the reception as a journalist or as a member of the museum staff?”
“Not exactly.” Amaryllis tried to look calm and composed. “I’m posing as his marriage agency date for the evening.”
The effect was immediate and not especially gratifying, in Amaryllis’s opinion.
“You’re going to the reception as a marriage agency candidate for Lucas Trent?” Byron looked stunned. “I don’t believe it.”
Clementine whistled soundlessly. “Hot synergy. Who’d have thought of that?”
“What’s so strange about it?” Amaryllis angled her chin. “Mr. Trent happens to be in the process of registering at a matchmaking agency. He told me so himself.”
Clementine’s eyes danced. “Talk about life’s little ironies, huh? What would your aunt and uncle say?”
“Aunt Hannah and Uncle Oscar don’t know about this, and I have no intention of telling them.” Amaryllis fixed Clementine and Byron with a warning glare. Her aunt and uncle, together with most of the rest of her family lived an hour’s drive from the city in the rural farm town of Lower Bellevue. There was no reason for any of her relatives to ever learn about Thursday night’s activities. “Furthermore, if either of you blabs, I will personally exact a terrible vengeance.”
Byron held up both hands, palms out. “Don’t worry, Clementine and I won’t breathe a word.”
“We won’t have to,” Clementine said dryly. “The museum reception will be heavily covered by the media. You can bet that a lot of the out-of-town papers will carry the story. Nelson Burlton himself will probably be there. Trust me, Amaryllis, on Friday morning your aunt and uncle will open the Lower Bellevue Journal and see a lovely picture of their precious niece clinging to the arm of one of the richest men in the city.”
“Oh lord.” Amaryllis dropped her head into her hands. “I forgot about the press.”
Byron’s eyes danced with mischief. “This assignment is starting to sound more interesting by the minute.”
Amaryllis glowered. “That’s enough out of you, Smyth-Jones.”
Clementine held up one hand for silence. “That’s enough, boys and girls. We’re trying to run a business around here. Save the squabbling for later. Amaryllis, you’d better take the rest of the afternoon off.”
“Why?”
“Because in about forty-eight hours you’ll be attending the major social event of the season in the company of one of the most important businessmen in the city. Something tells me that you haven’t got a thing to wear.”
Panic assailed Amaryllis. “Good heavens. I’ve got to go shopping.”
Byron eyed her with critical appraisal. “Try one of the new flutter dresses. Green would be good on you.”
“He’s right, Amaryllis.” Clementine paused in the doorway. “Try that boutique on Fifth Avenue. That’s where Gracie does a lot of her shopping. Tell the store to send the bill to Psynergy, Inc.” She winked. “The dress will definitely be a business expense.”
“The best part,” Byron said with unconcealed envy, “is that you’ll get to ride in his car.”
“What’s so special about that?” Amaryllis asked.
“It’s an Icer. I saw it parked outside. What a beauty.”
With any luck, she would finally exorcise Lucas Trent from her mind tonight.
Amaryllis slipped the new flutter dress over her head and watched in the mirror as it floated into place. Experimentally, she took a few steps, watching her reflection. The green, jewel-toned scarves that comprised the cleverly designed gown wafted gently with every move. The silky material seemed to be in constant motion. When she turned slightly, it clung briefly at hip and thigh. When she walked, it drifted around her legs and danced on the air.
She took two quick steps, pirouetted, and whirled around to peer at her image in the mirror. The scarves settled demurely into place. She touched the neckline, wondering if it was just a bit too low, and then reminded herself that this was an evening affair. Many of the gowns would be cut much lower than hers. She checked closely to be certain that the straps of her white bra did not show.
It was a sensible, functional, well-made bra, designed for long wear and many trips through the washing machine. She had bought it during the semiannual underwear and foundation sale at a major downtown department store. It was a practical, serviceable piece of clothing. She had half a dozen others just like it in the top drawer of her dresser. But she knew that it was not the sort of bra that one wore under a flutter dress. She wished she had a silky little scrap of lingerie to go with the gown. Something in black lace, perhaps.
On the other hand, she would probably never have an opportunity to wear the flutter dress again, so it was just as well that she had not invested in a fancy designer bra to go with it. It would have been a waste of money.
Pleased with the dress and with the fact that she was ready ten minutes before Lucas was scheduled to arrive, Amaryllis walked out of her bedroom. She felt calm and collected, just the way a good prism was supposed to feel before an intensive focus session.
Then the reality of what was about to happen hit her again. She was going to spend the evening with Lucas Trent.
She clasped her hands very tightly together and took several deep breaths. She was annoyed to note that her palms were damp. She had tried to ignore the nervous anticipation that had been building within her, but things were getting worse. It was ridiculous. She had to get a grip, she told herself.
She came to a halt in the middle of her small living room and gave herself a stern lecture. To focus effectively for a high-class talent, a prism had to be composed and in command. A prism who could not control herself could not control a strong talent. She had to do a good job tonight, if not for herself, then for the sake of Psynergy, Inc.
As usual, thoughts of duty and responsibility had a wonderfully calming effect on Amaryllis’s nerves. She was relieved to feel her pulse slow.
The cool mantle of professionalism descended upon her.
Much better. Almost normal. This was a working evening, she reminded herself. She was under contract. This was not a social event. The fact that she had been anxious for the past two days must not be allowed to affect her performance.
The fact that she was going to focus for the Iceman was irrelevant.
The doorbell chimed.
Lucas had arrived.
She would walk, not run, to the door, Amaryllis told herself.
The bell chimed again as she went down the short hall. Somehow the usually mellow tones seemed to have been infused with an imperious note. High-class talents were an impatient lot, Amaryllis thought. They were difficult, demanding, and arrogant. That was the principal reason why they rarely got along well with full-spectrum prisms.
For some reason, although she had taken her time getting to the door, she felt a little flushed when she finally opened it. Lucas stood on the front step.
“You’re early,” Amaryllis said.
Lucas frowned. He glanced at his black wrist watch. “It’s exactly seven o’clock.”
“Is it? Imagine that.” Amaryllis summoned up a smile. “Sorry. Guess my clock is slow.”
Lucas was dressed in conservative, formal evening black. Black shirt, black jacket, black trousers, and black tie. Not a hint of khaki in sight, Amaryllis noticed. She wondered what he thought of the current fad for Western Islands gear. Not much, judging from the fact that his dark hair was cut short and brushed back in a crisp, no-nonsense style.
Lucas surveyed her from head to toe. “Something wrong?”
Good grief, she was staring. “No, of course not.” Amaryllis hurriedly stepped back into the hall. “Come on in. I’ll just be a minute. I have to get my purse.”
“There’s no rush.” He walked through the door. “I allowed plenty of time.”
The implication that he had expected her to keep him waiting annoyed Amaryllis. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She went into the bedroom and snatched her purse off the dresser. When she returned to the outer room she found Lucas examining the contents of her bookcase. He had a copy of Orchid Adams’s newest release, Wild Talent, in his big hands. He glanced at Amaryllis with an odd expression.
“Don’t tell me you like these psychic vampire romance novels,” Lucas said. He sounded wary, not derisive.
“As a matter of fact, I enjoy them very much.”
“But you don’t really believe there are off-the-scale talents who can take over helpless prisms do you?”
“Of course not. That’s why they call it fiction, Mr. Trent.”
“I don’t read much fiction. I prefer nonfiction.”
“I’m not surprised that we have different tastes.” Amaryllis gave him a grim little smile. “There’s an old saying that high-class talents and full-spectrum prisms generally have nothing in common except the ability to hold a focus.”
“True.” His eyes moved over her as if he were assessing all the various ways in which they differed. “Shall we go?”
“Certainly.”
The phone rang just as Amaryllis turned to lead the way toward the door. She ignored it.
“Feel free to answer it,” Lucas said easily. “We’re in no hurry.”
“You’re sure?”
“Believe me, I’m not in a rush to spend the evening sipping green wine punch and eating soggy hors d’oeuvres.”
Amaryllis went to the phone and lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Oh, hello, dear.” Hannah Lark’s voice sounded warm and cheerful, as it always did. She was a doctor, and her bedside manner stemmed from a genuinely caring nature. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“Well, actually, Aunt Hannah, I’m just on my way out the door.” Amaryllis slid a quick glance at Lucas who was now studying her collection of music discs. “Can it wait?”
“This will only take a moment,” Hannah assured her. “I’m filling out the marriage agency forms for you, as we agreed, and there are one or two questions I thought I’d bounce off you.”
“Not now, Aunt Hannah, please.”
“Do you have any strong preferences when it comes to physical appearance?”
“Uh, not really.”
“Height? Weight? Eye color?”
“No, Aunt Hannah. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re sure, dear?”
“I’m positive.”
“Good, that makes things much simpler. Now, then, intelligence and education are critical, of course. I’ve already made a note of that. What about mutual interests? How picky do you intend to be in that area?”
“Very picky. Compatibility is a must. Listen, Aunt Hannah, someone’s waiting for me. We’ll have to do this some other time.”
“Who’s waiting?” Hannah’s voice sharpened with interest. “A man?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Someone from work?”
“Sort of. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“You’re avoiding me, Amaryllis.” Hannah sighed. “This happens every time I try to get your attention long enough to complete this form. You can’t make excuses forever. The Synergistic Connections agency is the best matchmaking service in the city-state. They only handle a certain number of select clients. Their list was already filled for the next six months. It wasn’t easy convincing them to make room for you. I had to pull a few strings.”
“I know I’m lucky that you were able to get me registered with Synergistic Connections. I promise I’ll call you tomorrow so that we can fill out the form together, but I can’t do it now. I really have to run.”
“All right, we’ll do it first thing in the morning. There’s no excuse for waiting any longer. By the way, where are you going tonight?”
“The reception at the museum.”
Hannah gave a delighted gasp. “Are you serious?”
“Very. Talk to you later, Aunt Hannah. Good night.” Amaryllis dropped the phone back into the cradle before her aunt could recover from her shock. She looked at Lucas. “Let’s go before she calls back.”
Lucas’s gaze was unreadable as he followed her to the door. “You’re registered with Synergistic Connections?”
“My aunt insisted.” Amaryllis grimaced. “She says it’s the agency that matched her and my Uncle Oscar.”
A glimpse of genuine understanding appeared in Lucas’s eyes. For one brief, shining moment, Amaryllis felt an unexpected sense of mutual empathy flash between them. She and the Iceman might be polar opposites in some ways, but when it came to the business of marriage, they comprehended each other very well.
Marriage was a serious matter. It had been since the founders, faced with the task of creating a colony that could survive the rigors of being stranded on an alien world, had deliberately set out to promote a strong family structure. Their historical and psychological research had convinced them that only a society founded on the firm support of rock-solid families could meet the challenges that lay ahead.
The institution of marriage was regarded as a permanent commitment. It bound not only two people but two extended families. Under the guidance of the founders, the monumental weight of social pressure and the enormous power of the law had been brought to bear in order to enforce the unwritten as well as the written rules that governed the social order.
Amaryllis knew those rules only too well. Her parents had not been married. She had not only lost both her mother and her father when she was less than a year old, she had paid the price of their indiscretion.
One of the most unpleasant fates that could befall a child in such a family-oriented society was to be born out of wedlock. The shame and the humiliation cast shadows for years, especially in small towns such as the one where Amaryllis had been raised. She was well aware that she had been very fortunate, under the circumstances. Many bastard children did not fare so well.
Hannah and Oscar Lark had taken her into their home after her mother’s death. Fro
m birth, Amaryllis had been surrounded by a host of loving relatives. There was little the Larks could do about the cruelty of her classmates or the whispered gossip of adults, however. Nor could anyone make up for the fact that her father’s family, the wealthy and influential Baileys, chose to ignore Amaryllis.
For her part, Amaryllis had vowed early on never to embarrass her aunt and uncle or any of the rest of her mother’s relatives. She knew her duty and her responsibilities. High on the list was the necessity of contracting a proper, agency-sanctioned marriage when the time came.
She had put off the inevitable as long as possible. She had finally run out of excuses.
Sooner or later, almost everyone, gay or straight or in-between, got married. Same-sex alliances, known as permanent partnerships, were as binding as heterosexual unions and had equal status as well as equal responsibilities to the community. Divorce was virtually impossible.
Given the legal ramifications, the expectations of families, the pressures of society, and the permanence of marriage, very few people attempted to find their own mates. It was understood that judgments made in the heat of passion were not to be trusted, which was not to say that passion was forbidden. On the contrary, affairs were quite common before marriage and were known to occur after the event as well. Discretion was expected from everyone involved.
The guiding principle behind the actions of responsible people was Don’t Embarrass the Family.
The founders had been far more concerned with the stability of the social structure than with individual happiness. Nevertheless, for the sake of the institutions they valued so much, they had tried to ensure a high percentage of reasonably contented couples.
To that end, they had established marriage agencies staffed with trained synergistic psychologists to help individuals choose mates wisely and well. Although marital alliances based on such ancient considerations as property and family connections occasionally took place among the very wealthy, most people registered with matchmaking agencies when the time came to get serious.
It was considered remarkably stupid to even consider contracting such a formal and terribly permanent alliance without the assistance of a good counselor and a respected agency.
