A great sense of exhilaration drove out the last of his fears. "That pretty much sums up how I feel about you. It's as if I've been waiting for you forever."
"And I've been waiting for you." She wound her arms around his neck. Her eyes gleamed. "Do you think I could interest you in using your psychic vampire talent to turn me into a love slave?"
"Actually, I was sort of hoping that you would use your amazing prism powers to turn me into a helpless victim of your relentless desire."
"Hmm." She drew a fingertip down to his bare stomach and then moved her hand lower. She cradled his heavy shaft in her palm. "The notion is fraught with possibilities."
"Yeah." Lucas sucked in his breath. The grotto walls shimmered and dimmed for a few seconds as he diverted psychic energy into old-fashioned self-control. "It is, isn't it?"
"Oh, Lucas, I want you so much." The teasing light in her eyes was replaced with unabashed need. She brought his mouth down to hers and arched herself against him.
The passion sparked between them, hotter than raw, unfocused psychic energy.
He reveled in the feel of her body. He worked his way downward, tasting the small valley between her breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, the inside of her thigh. When he touched the hot, moist flesh between her legs, she shuddered in his hands.
"Lucas."
On the psychic plane, the crystal prism winked out of existence. The grotto walls disappeared. Lucas felt a surge of triumph. This time Amaryllis was the one who had lost control of the link.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered.
"You make me feel beautiful." She shivered again and sank her nails into his shoulders.
Together they found the focus link again. Lucas did not bother to rebuild the grotto. He simply let the power flow in a shimmering river. The sense of deep intimacy enveloped him. He was a part of Amaryllis and she was part of him.
He moved back up along the length of her trembling body. He used one hand to guide himself to the entrance of her snug passage. Slowly he eased himself inside. She closed around him.
When Amaryllis cried out and convulsed in Lucas's arms, he thought that he would lose the mind link again, but to his surprise, it held steady and clear. Unfocused talent flashed through the prism and ricocheted around the psychic plane.
Power and passion flowed together.
A long while later, Amaryllis felt Lucas disengage himself carefully from her arms. He slid his leg from between her thighs. She opened her eyes as he sat up on the edge of the sofa.
"Lucas? Where are you going?"
"To check the fire. Don't worry, I'll be right back."
"I'll be waiting." She turned onto her side, stretched, and propped her head on the arm of the sofa. She watched Lucas as he crossed the room to the hearth.
He was magnificent. Big and sleek and utterly masculine. The firelight gleamed on his strongly muscled flanks and broad shoulders. Just the sight of him sent little frissons of excitement through her thoroughly sated body.
She felt a brush of energy on the psychic plane and silently responded. Lucas held the intimate link with her for a few minutes while he crouched to adjust the supply of jelly-ice.
He finished his small task, rose to his feet, and braced one hand on the mantle. Instead of returning to the sofa, he stood gazing down into the flames.
"You're brooding," Amaryllis said.
In the flaring firelight, the fierce planes and angles of his face appeared harder edged and more grim than usual. "It won't be easy, you know."
As if she could read his mind, she understood. "I know. If you come with me to Lower Bellevue to celebrate my aunt's birthday the day after tomorrow, we can tell my family together."
He turned slowly to face her. With his back to the fire, it was impossible to see his expression. "What will you do if your aunt and uncle refuse to give you their blessing?"
"Marry you anyway. They'll come around in time. They love me. All they want is for me to be happy."
"Will you be happy with me?"
"I don't see how I could be happy with anyone else," she said simply.
"We'll argue."
"Everyone argues at times, even people who are matched through an agency."
"You'll probably pull that virtuous little founder act on me from time to time, and I'll tell you that you're prissy and straitlaced and too damn picky."
She smiled. "And then you'll remember that I picked you."
Lucas came toward her. "Yeah." His voice roughened. "Then I'll remember that you picked me."
He lowered himself onto the sofa and pulled her into his arms. His eyes reflected the flames on the hearth as he bent his head to take her mouth.
"Incredible." Clementine whistled softly as she refolded the newspaper. "Who would have believed it. Senator Madison Sheffield, Mr. Founders' Values man himself. Blackmail victim and murderer. We came too damn close to losing you, Amaryllis. This is one scary story."
"You're telling me." Amaryllis poured herself a cup of coff-tea from the office pot. "I tried to tell everyone that Sheffield was unethical and very likely dishonest, but no one would listen to me."
"I know, I know." Clementine held up her hand. "Amaryllis, hasn't anyone ever told you that no one likes a person who keeps saying I told you so?"
"The boss is right," Byron said. "That sort of person is very irritating."
"Hah. Better get used to it." Amaryllis smiled blandly. "I intend to say it a lot around here. And I'll tell you something else, when the police reopen their investigation of Professor Landreth's death, they're going to discover that he was murdered, too."
Clementine's brows rose. "By Sheffield?"
"Who else?" Amaryllis said. "He must have learned about the file that Professor Landreth had made on him. He couldn't risk the possibility that Landreth would go public with his accusations."
"I wonder if they'll be able to prove it," Clementine mused.
"Even if they can't tie Sheffield to Landreth's death, they should be able to nail him for killing that stripper," Byron said.
"Don't count on it," Clementine said dryly. "He's a city-state senator, after all, and he's denying everything. When was the last time a high-ranking politician did any serious prison time?"
"One way or another. I'm sure justice will be done," Amaryllis said. "That reminds me, I must phone Irene Dunley. She'll be anxious to hear the details of what happened last night. She's the only one who supported me when I started looking into the matter of Professor Landreth's death."
"Let me see that paper." Byron leaned over his desk to snatch the newspaper out of Clementine's hands. He studied the headlines with something that might have been pride. "Wow. Like totally synergistic. Interesting shot of you, Amaryllis."
"Really?" Amaryllis went around the reception desk to look at the news photo. For an instant she didn't recognize the scene, let alone herself. Then her face went red. "Oh, my God. I hope my family doesn't see this."
The picture had obviously been taken by someone in the SynCity Club audience. A patron had smuggled in a camera in spite of the rules, Amaryllis thought grimly. The photo showed her, center stage, hands raised in her frantic attempt to get someone's attention.
Clementine leaned over the desk. "Sort of looks like you're conducting the activities on stage, Amaryllis."
"This is so embarrassing," Amaryllis muttered. "I wonder if the Lower Bellevue Journal will run the same shot."
In the photo she appeared to be orchestrating the erotic actions of the outrageously attired syn-sex performers on either side of her. Discreet portions of the dancers' anatomies had been covered with small, black squares. The New Seattle Times was a family newspaper, after all.
In the background of the picture, one could just make out Lucas and Sheffield on the floor. They looked as if they were locked in each others' arms.