She suspected that Preston practiced meta-zen-syn because it was fashionable among the faculty of the North Institute, not because he had any real interest in achieving personal harmony. Nevertheless, he had a flair for the proper outward effect. The white turtleneck he wore under the white jacket added just the right meta-zen-syn touch. Simple, refined, classically balanced.
"It's good to see you again." Preston smiled his fallen-angel smile. "You haven't been around much during the past year. I've missed you."
"I doubt that," Orchid said. "I'm sure you've been much too busy securing grant money and climbing up the academic ladder at the North Institute to notice whether or not I was anywhere in the vicinity."
"Things have been going rather well." Preston had never seen any particular virtue in modesty. "I'm now an associate in the department of synergistic studies. In a couple of years I'll probably take over the department."
"I don't doubt that for a moment."
Preston sipped blue wine and shoved one hand casually into the pocket of his elegantly pleated white trousers. "I understand that your little psychic vampire novels have started to become rather popular."
She gritted her teeth at the condescension in his voice.
"I'm cautiously optimistic that I'll be able to make a living from my writing."
"I haven't read any of them myself."
"Somehow that does not surprise me."
"Tell you what. Why don't you give me one before you leave?" Preston winked indulgently. "I'll be glad to take a look at it when I have a chance and give you a critique."
"That's very magnanimous of you, but I'm afraid that you're operating under a totally false assumption, here, Preston."
"I beg your pardon?"
She gave him her brightest smile. "You're assuming I want or would value your opinion of my books. I don't and wouldn't. Besides, I doubt that you'd have time to read them."
Preston frowned as if vaguely baffled by the fact that the conversation was not going quite as he had planned. His expression cleared quickly, however. With his customary social adroitness, he shifted direction.
"You're right about the time factor. I have enough trouble just keeping up with the research literature and departmental memos. To say nothing of the time it takes to chase grant money."
"And heaven knows, seducing attractive new research assistants is practically a full-time occupation in itself, isn't it?"
Preston's fine brow furrowed briefly. He wanted something from her, Orchid thought. The fact that he did not find an excuse to end the conversation was a very big clue.
"And then there's the never-ending effort it takes to publish your assistants' work under your own name."
He scowled. "I publish the results of work performed under my direction. I have a right to put my name on those papers."
"And we mustn't overlook the amount of time you invest in discreet ass-kissing in order to get funding for your projects."
Preston reddened. "Now see here, I pull in a hell of a lot of grant money for the institute and don't you forget it. Grant money is the life's blood of research."
"And you use a little para-hyped charisma to get it, not your research credentials. You should have been a politician, Preston."
Preston's eyes darkened furiously. He took a step closer to her.
A few more inches, Orchid pleaded silently. You're almost at the edge of the pool. Just a teensy bit farther.
But just when she was hopeful that his temper would make him careless on the wet stones at the water's edge, Preston's face relaxed abruptly into an expression of gentle concern.
Orchid felt the pulse of psychic energy and knew that he was trying to use his talent on her. He was limited by the lack of a prism, but even without someone to help him focus, she knew that he could project very strongly for a few seconds at a time.
She took a step back. "Save it for the next corporate honcho you plan to ambush for grant money. I'll admit that a little punch of charisma-talent makes your suit and your teeth look really shiny and bright, but the effect doesn't last long on someone who knows you well, Preston."
"You're bitter," he said gently.
"No, actually, I'm pissed off at you."
"Because of what happened last year?"
"Because you used me, damn it. I know you faked your marriage agency registration papers. Or maybe you even went so far as to bribe my counselor at Affinity Associates."
"You can't prove that."
"That doesn't mean I don't know it's the truth."
"What makes you so sure?" he demanded.
"Because there's no way you and I could have ever been matched." She gave him a triumphant smile. "We don't have a single thing in common."
"Ah, now I understand what this is all about." Preston gave her a compassionate look. "You're jealous. You want me back."
"Are you crazy?" She broke off as she caught sight of Rafe coming toward her. Something about his long, gliding pace made her uneasy. She did not need to be any closer to him to feel the energy emanating from him. He was in a dangerous mood. She wondered if her father had grilled him.
Preston turned slightly to follow her gaze. His expression cleared. "Say, that's your friend Stonebraker, isn't it?"
The hastily concealed eagerness in his face answered one question, Orchid thought. Now she knew why Preston had sought her out this afternoon. He had wanted to get to Rafe. In his customary fashion, he had used her to accomplish his goal.
"I don't believe we've met." Preston put out his hand as Rafe came to a halt. "I'm Dr. Preston Luce. Associate professor in the department of synergistic studies here at the institute. I understand you're a friend of Orchid's."
Orchid felt more energy zap across the psychic plane, A jolt of high-powered charisma-talent hummed briefly in the atmosphere.
Preston's smile suddenly sparkled with enough warmth and charm to light up a dark room. Orchid noticed that Rafe seemed completely unaffected. Maybe strat-talent conferred some kind of immunity to charisma, she thought. After all, a hunter could not afford to be charmed by his prey.
"You wouldn't, by any chance be related to the Stonebrakers of Stonebraker Shipping, would you?" Preston asked ingenuously.
"Funny you should ask," Rafe said.
Orchid was alarmed by the low, baiting drawl of his voice. But before she could react, she sensed the stirring
of another strong talent on the metaphysical plane. Strat-talent this time.
"Oh, dear," she murmured.
Power shimmered, invisible and dangerous, in the air.
Preston frowned. Then he blinked and froze for an instant, a moose-deer caught in the headlights.
Orchid knew the feeling. She swiftly ditched her own simple plans for revenge. It was one thing to arrange for Preston to fall into a reflecting pool. That sort of thing could be passed off as an accident. A full-scale brawl in the middle of Veronica's wedding, on the other hand, was another matter altogether. Her parents would never forgive her.
She moved quickly to head off disaster. She planted one slender heel squarely on the toe of Rafe's black leather shoe.
"Rafe's grandfather is the current president and C.E.O. of Stonebraker Shipping," she said glibly. "Isn't that right, Rafe?"
"Yes." Rafe cut off the small Shockwaves of talent he had been projecting and eased his toe out from under Orchid's high heel. But he continued to gaze at Preston with the wistful expression of a hungry predator.
Preston blinked again, very rapidly, in apparent confusion. He shook his head and pulled himself together with a visible effort Orchid was almost certain that he did not realize what had happened.
He managed another suave smile. "Your grandfather. Let's see, that would be Alfred G. Stonebraker, I believe."
"He'll be stepping down in a couple of months," Rafe said. "I'll be taking control of the company."