Zinnia

'Yes.'

'Are you obsessed with finding his journal because you want to know if his talent drove him to suicide? Are you afraid the same fate awaits you?'

She was too damn perceptive. It was dangerous to continue any kind of association with her, let alone risk the intimacy of either a mental or sexual liaison. But she was part of the matrix now. He saw no escape. He did not even want to escape.

Perhaps she was his fate.

But he was not ready to face her blunt questions head-on. It would force him to confront some things he preferred to sidestep.

'How did you learn that my father was a matrix?' he asked instead.

'Professor Loony mentioned that the reason no one questioned Bartholomew Chastain's suicide was because it was strongly suspected that he was a matrix and people have so many misconceptions about matrix- talents.'

'Professor Loony?'

Zinnia made a face. 'Newton DeForest. Retired history professor. Maniacal gardener.'

'You went to see Demented DeForest?' Nick was disgusted. 'Why the hell did you do that? I told you he was just an old crackpot.'

'I'm not going to argue with that assessment. DeForest is about as stable as a deposit of jelly-ice. You should see his garden.' She shuddered. 'He's a horti-talent who specializes in carnivorous plant hybrids. A matrix friend helped him design a maze full of them. It's positively gruesome.'

'What in five hells were you doing in DeForest's garden?'

'I still think Morris's murder may be connected to the journal. My brother, Leo, is studying synergistic historical analysis. He told me that DeForest is the only person who ever actually researched the Third Expedition. I had an appointment to talk to DeForest today.'

'Damn.' Nick set the wine glass down on the tile counter with enough force to make it ring. 'You should have told me that you were going to talk to him.'

'You made it clear that you were only interested in the journal.' She smiled coolly. 'Of course, that was before you realized I was a cunning scam artist and that I had masterminded a diabolical scheme to set you up for a major con job.'

'Stop it, Zinnia. Please.'

'Do I take it that your curiosity about poor Morris's death has been renewed now that you know the journal is still missing?' she asked bluntly.

'Yes.' He took a step toward her. 'You could damn well say that my interest in the matter has been renewed. Furthermore, for your information, I'm the leading authority on the Third Expedition, not Newton DeForest.'

'Is that right? How come no one, including my brother who's really into history, knows that interesting little fact?'

'Because I've never bothered to publish. I have no reason to share what I've learned with the rest of the world.'

'Every matrix I've ever met makes a fetish out of secrecy.'

He opted to ignore that goad. After all, she was right. 'I've spent the past three years collecting every scrap of information I could find. I know every single theory, legend, and rumor. I've talked to everyone I could find who was in the Western Islands thirty-five years ago. If you want to know anything about the subject, ask me.'

A speculative look appeared in her eyes. 'DeForest told me that none of the men on your father's team had much in the way of family ties.'

'He's right.' Nick picked up the wine glass and took another swallow. 'Loners, misfits. But all good jungle men. That's one of the things that doesn't make sense. If an accident occurred on the trail, one or two of them should have survived.'

'You're assuming that the expedition did leave the jumping-off point.'

'It left,' he said softly.

'How can you be so sure?'

'I'm certain.'

She sighed. 'Okay, back to the other issue. You said the team members were loners and misfits. But your father was hardly alone in the world. He was the heir to the Chastain business empire.'

'My father was the exception.' Nick hesitated. 'Andy Aoki told me once that he thought that it was the Chastain family that drove my father out to the islands. Apparently they put a lot of pressure on him to take over the reins of Chastain, Inc. That was the last thing he wanted to do so he got as far away from the clan as he could.'

'Andy Aoki?'

'The man who raised me after my parents died.'

'You lost your mother, too?'

'Before I was six months old. She left me with Andy the day she went to Serendipity to look for answers concerning my father's disappearance. She never came back. The six-track she was driving went over a cliff during a storm.'

'How terrible for you,' Zinnia said very softly. 'To lose both parents.'

'To be truthful, I don't remember my mother. And my father disappeared before I was even born.' Nick gave her a level look. 'Andy was a good man. He was a father to me in every way that counted.'

'I believe you.' Zinnia was silent for a moment. 'It was probably Bartholomew Chastain's talent that led him to take up expedition work. The lure of analyzing and mapping the unknown would have obvious appeal to a strong matrix.'

'I suppose so.' Nick considered that. 'Depends on the matrix, I think.'

'Did you ever consider expedition work?'

'No. I did a little jelly-ice prospecting to get a stake together but once I had the money I needed to open the casino, I quit the jungle work. I have .. . other interests.'

'Synergistic probability theory, I presume.' She eyed him shrewdly. 'That would fit with your career choice.'

He shot her a sidelong glance. 'I don't run a casino because I'm into gaming theory.'

'Why do you run one?'

'Because, among other things, it's a good way to make lots and lots of money.'

'Succinctly put. And what do you plan to buy with all the money?'

'Respectability.' And everything that goes with it, he added silently.

Her eyes widened. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You heard me. I've got a plan.'

She gave him a look of reluctant fascination. 'Amazing. What is this plan?'

'I'll tell you about it over dinner.'

'Hold on here, Chastain.' She put up a palm. 'Things have changed in this little matrix. You can't just accuse me of fraud one moment and then expect me to go out to dinner with you the next. I've got some pride, you know. Plus which, I'm still pissed.'

The phone on the wall rang before Nick could decide how to deal with that.

Zinnia grabbed the receiver. 'Hello? Oh, hi, Duncan. No, it's okay. I worked late tonight.'

Nick did not like the way her voice softened and warmed. Whoever Duncan was, he was more than a casual friend. A relative, he thought optimistically.

'I meant to call you this evening, anyway.' Zinnia lounged against the counter in a casual pose that said volumes about the easy nature of her relationship with the man on the other end of the line. 'I wanted to thank you for dinner.'

Not a relative. Nick sipped morosely at his wine. He recognized the feeling of possessiveness that was uncurling within him but he did not fully comprehend it. Possessiveness implied jealousy. Jealousy was a byproduct of desire that was not properly controlled. He hadn't even gone to bed with Zinnia Spring yet. How could he be feeling anything as strong as jealousy?