Nick reluctantly blanked the computer screen and got to his feet. He went to the wall and pushed the button that opened the secret panel. It slid aside with the hushed mechanical whir of a hidden motor to reveal the gilded red-and-black chamber.
Batt could not have come up with any matches yet, Nick assured himself. There were forms to be filled out. A battery of syn-psych tests to take. Everyone knew that the marriage registration process was a lengthy thorough-going business. No reputable syn-psych counselor could produce a match after a single interview.
It was too soon.
What the hell was he thinking, he wondered as he walked toward the gleaming obsidian-wood desk. He wanted Batt to move quickly. Why the cold chill?
It didn't take a matrix to answer that, he decided grimly. He took his seat behind the ornate desk. For all his planning and unwavering intentions, he didn't want to think about his future wife now that he was involved, however tenuously, with Zinnia.
The door opened. Feather's gleaming skull reflected the soft glow of the jelly lamps. He ushered Hobart, who was nattily attired in a fashionable, well-cut gray suit and a pink bow tie, into the room.
"Come in, Hobart." Nick did not rise. "Please sit down. I assume you're here on business?"
Hobart cleared his throat and walked nervously to the chair in front of the desk. "I brought a questionnaire. You'll have to fill it out before I can proceed."
"Of course. Let me see it."
Hobart perched primly on the edge of the chair and opened his briefcase. "It asks for details about your personal preferences, your hobbies and uh-" He glanced around the chamber with ill-concealed dismay and swallowed heavily. "Your tastes."
"Don't look so worried, Hobart." Nick smiled as he took the questionnaire. "I'm sure you'll find me a lady who won't mind my tastes. And I have no hobbies."
"No hobbies?"
"I don't have time for unimportant pursuits." Nick glanced through the thick questionnaire. "Running a casino keeps me fully occupied."
"I see." Hobart drew himself up. "Mr. Chastain, we really must discuss your business occupation and your unusual psychic talent."
"What's to discuss?"
"You must understand that both are serious impediments to a successful match, especially since you have insisted upon limiting your selection to registrants from a certain social class."
"Don't worry about it, Hobart." Nick closed the questionnaire. "I'm sure you'll find someone suitable for me."
"There is one other thing, sir."
"Yes?"
Hobart took a deep breath. "You mentioned that you were an untested talent."
Nick raised his brows. "What of it?"
"Sir, I work for a very reputable marriage agency. Synergistic Connections adheres to a code of ethics. We simply cannot attempt a match unless both parties have been rated and assigned a position on the paranormal power spectrum."
"In that case, I'm afraid you'll have to handle this match off the record, Hobart. It will be our little secret."
"How am I supposed to convince a respectable lady to consider a match with an untested matrix-talent? It just isn't done. No family would permit such an alliance. No woman in her right mind would even think of taking such a risk."
"You're forgetting my one great asset, Hobart."
Hobart looked wary. "What is that, sir?"
"I'm rich."
Chapter 13
Zinnia stood in the courtyard and surveyed the imposing structure in front of her. "As we interior designers say in situations such as this, it's got great bones."
This was the home that Nick had chosen for his bride, she thought. The place where he and the future Mrs. Chastain would raise a family. She did not want to admire the mansion. For some obscure reason, she longed to find fault with the soaring columns, graceful steps, and spacious gardens. But the designer in her was too honest. The old Garrett estate was beautiful.
The house and well-planted grounds occupied an acre of prime-view land above the city. The main building was a large two-storey stone affair in the Neo-Early Exploration Period style. The architect had captured the exuberant spirit of the earlier era while managing to avoid the frothy excesses. The result was elegant restrained exuberance. This was a house that was imbued with a sense of the future, Zinnia thought. A house infused with optimism and hope.
An elegant colonnaded porch surrounded the entire mansion. The windows were tall and well-proportioned to match the high-ceilinged rooms inside. There was a subtle symmetry to the design that was not generally found either in the original buildings of trie Early Exploration Period or in the Later Revival Period.
"Good bones?" Nick removed a huge picnic hamper from the trunk of the Synchron. "If that's a polite way of telling me the place is a little run-down, save your breath. I already know there's a lot of work to be done. The good news is, I've got the money to do it."
"Unlike the Garretts?"
Nick quirked a brow as he walked toward her with the hamper. "So you do recognize the place."
"Any architect or designer would." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I also know how you got the Garrett family to sell it to you."
"I didn't force the sale," he said coldly. "And I paid full market value. The Garretts came out of the deal with enough cash to finance a merger that was very important to the corporation at the time."
"Uh-huh."
Nick started up the front steps. "Don't kid yourself. Old Randolph Garrett, Senior, put out the word that he was forced to sell in order to rescue young Randy from my clutches. But the truth was, Garrett was secretly thrilled to have an excuse to get rid of the place. The property descended through his side of the family. He had the responsibility for maintaining it. It was a steady drain on his finances at a time when he couldn't afford it."
"I see. You must have been one of the few people in the entire city-state who was willing and able to buy it. Most folks couldn't afford the upkeep, let alone a major remodel."
"I can afford both." Nick set down the hamper to activate the old jelly-ice lock on the door. "And I want the remodeling done right."
"I'm surprised the Historical Preservation Society didn't try to get their hands on the house. I would have thought they'd have paid big bucks for John Jeremy Garrett's personal estate."
"I beat them to it." Nick opened the door to reveal a spacious circular hall tiled in pale green rainstone. "And for the record, from now on, it's the new Chastain estate."
No one could have missed the naked possessiveness in his voice, Zinnia thought. She studied the spacious graceful rooms as she followed him through the empty mansion.
"It's not exactly your style, Nick."
"Don't worry, by the time I gild the columns with some fake gold paint, put down lots of red and black carpeting, cover the windows with red velvet drapes and hang a lot of scarlet and gold wallpaper, it will look like home."
"You wouldn't."
Nick turned to glance at her over his shoulder. He said nothing but his eyes gleamed.
Zinnia put up her hands, palms out. "Okay, okay, it was a joke. You shouldn't tease a professional interior designer that way."
"I thought you liked red." His gaze traveled slowly down her body, taking in the gauzy, ankle-length, sunrise-red dress she wore. "You sure look good in it."
She felt herself grow very warm beneath his blatantly sexy gaze. "It's my trademark. And it's okay for clothes. But a whole house done in red would look like a bordello or a, uh-"
"Casino?" he suggested.
"Well, yes. And you distinctly told me that you didn't want your future bride to live in a casino."
"No," he said. "I don't." He set the hamper down on the floor. "As you can see, I really do need an interior designer. Someone who knows the Neo-Early Exploration Period style. I want the place restored properly. Like one of those places you see in Architectural Synergy magazine. How about it?"