Zinnia

She suddenly wished that she could see his eyes. Not that she would have been able to read much in those green-and-gold depths, she thought. Nick wore his enigmatic mask as easily as he wore his expensively tailored clothes.

'I thought you said you didn't think that anyone else except yourself wanted the journal badly enough to kill for it,' she said very carefully. 'Have you changed your mind?'

'This is your conspiracy theory, not mine. All I want is the journal. I was merely pointing out that if you happen to be right, then we have a mutual interest in locating it. It's safe to say that the police won't go in the direction your theory is taking you. Anselm seemed convinced of the drug-robbery motive.'

Zinnia propped her elbow on the desk and rested her forehead in her hand. 'To tell you the truth, I don't know what to think at the moment.'

'I suggest you don't take too long to make up your mind. I'm going to start making inquiries immediately. There's no time to waste. This kind of trail grows cold very quickly.'

'Yes, I imagine it does.'

'Do you want to work together on this or shall I handle it on my own?'

She twisted the telephone cord in her fingers. He was applying pressure. It was subtle but unmistakable. 'You're suggesting that we should join forces?'

'Why not? We both have compelling reasons to search for the journal. Together we would be able to accomplish more than we could separately.'

Zinnia drummed her fingers on the desk. 'It would be impossible to keep our association a secret.'

'That's true. There is a risk that the tabloids would get interested in us all over again.'

'Well?' She was annoyed by his obvious lack of concern. 'That's the last thing you'd want, isn't it?'

'I can live with it if there's a good reason to do so. What about you?'

'I'd hate it.' She flopped back in her chair and released a long breath. 'But I've had to put up with having my name smeared across the front pages so often that it's beginning to seem routine. I can handle it.'

There was another of the unsettling silences on the other end of the line. 'You think that having your name linked with mine amounts to a smear?'

Great. She'd managed to insult him again.

'I didn't mean to imply that. I only meant that there's no really terrific way to appear in the tabloids. No matter whose name is involved.'

'Never mind,' he interrupted. 'Since we can't avoid the inevitable, I suggest we give the gossips a logical reason for the two of us to be seen together.'

Zinnia's instincts went on full alert. 'What sort of reason?'

'As it happens, I'm in the market for an interior designer.'

She seized the phone cord in a death grip. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You heard me. I'm planning to marry in the near future. I want to redecorate.'

For some reason, that news caused Zinnia to tighten her hand even more violently around the cord. He was going to marry. So what? Almost everyone got married sooner or later. Even mysterious casino proprietors. She was probably the one exception in the city if you discounted a few assorted incarcerated felons and the inmates of some asylums.

'I see.'

'I have a feeling that my future wife won't care for the casino look.'

'You live in a casino,' Zinnia pointed out grimly. 'I doubt very seriously that you'll be able to conceal that fact from her for long. The clang of the slot machines will be a dead giveaway.'

'I don't expect my bride to live here above the casino. I've bought a house. A large one on a hill overlooking the city and the bay.'

'Oh.' She was not certain what to say. 'When's the wedding?'

'I don't know yet. I've only recently begun the registration process.'

'You're going through an agency?'

'You sound surprised. Doesn't everyone with common sense go through an agency?'

'Sure. Naturally. In most cases.' Lord, she was babbling again. 'But there are exceptions.'

'I don't intend to be an exception. Contracting a non-agency marriage is a huge risk. I'm not a gambling man.'

She blinked. 'You're not?'

'I may make my living off the synergistic laws of probabilities and chance, but I don't take stupid risks. Not with something as permanent as marriage.'

'Very wise,' she agreed hastily.

There was a discreet pause.

'Are you registered?' he asked softly.

She swallowed. It was a perfectly normal question, especially given her age. She was getting precariously close to thirty. 'I was registered four years ago. But the agency declared me unmatchable.'

Dead silence greeted that information.

'I see,' Nick said eventually. 'Unusual.'

That was the understatement of the decade. Zinnia almost smiled. 'Very. But it happens.'

'You don't sound too broken up about it.'

'Life goes on.'

'Full-spectrums are said to be difficult to please,' Nick observed.

'That's not our fault,' she retorted. 'We've got high standards. It goes with the territory. But in my case, the problem was complicated by the fact that I'm not exactly a normal full-spectrum prism.'

'Ah, yes. You told me that you could only focus comfortably with matrix-talents.'

'Uh-huh. Apparently that fact makes for a peculiar reading on the MPPI,' Zinnia said.

'MPPI?'

'The Multipsychic Paranormal Personality Inventory. It's the standard syn-psych test that all the match- making agencies use. You'll have to take the exam sooner or later, if you're registered. Didn't your counselor tell you about it?'

'I've just started the registration process. I haven't had a chance to discuss all the details with my counselor yet.'

'I see. You'll start with a questionnaire and then you'll do the MPPI.' For some reason Zinnia's curiosity would not let go of the matter. 'Which agency are you using?'

'My counselor is from Synergistic Connections.'

'Good firm. That's where I was registered.' She was more convinced than ever now that Nick possessed a strong psychic ability of some kind. Synergistic Connections was one of the few marriage agencies in town that worked with full-spectrum prisms and high-class talents. 'Very expensive.'

'I can afford their services,' he said.

She winced. 'Yes, I suppose you can.'

'As I was saying, I want my house redecorated for my future bride. I could tell people that I've employed you to design the interiors. It would provide a credible reason for us to be seen in each other's company on a frequent basis.'

For some reason her brain seemed to be functioning as if it were mired in hardening amber. 'Uh-'

'We can pool our resources and information.' Nick paused. 'I'm quite prepared to pay your usual fees, of course.'

That remark broke through the congealing amber as nothing else could have done. Zinnia was incensed. 'How dare you bring money into this? I guess I should have expected that from a man who owns a casino. I've got news for you, Mr. Chastain. The only thing that matters here is justice for poor Morris.'

'Of course,' he said quickly. Too quickly.

'All you want is that journal. For some reason you've decided I might have some useful information that you can use to find it.'

'Now, Zinnia, I was only putting forth a reasonable proposition, one that will benefit both of us.'

'The hell you were. You're trying to manipulate me, Mr. Chastain. I don't like being manipulated.'

'Think about it, that's all I ask.' He was the essence of reasonableness now. 'Give me a call when you've