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every prop scheduled for the Camelot Blue software launch event. It was Camelot Blue’s trademark hue. All of the company’s products were boxed and wrapped in it.
    â€œYou’re supposed to be studying to become a physicist, a hotshot fiber optics type,” she said to Bolivar. “A man who gets turned on by cold light technology and electroluminescence. What the heck do you know about romantic archetypes?”
    â€œA lot more than you do, apparently.” Bolivar hopped down from the small ladder. There was a soft thump as his running shoes hit the bare wooden floor.
    Bolivar was twenty-one years old. He had the sharp, aquiline features, dark auburn hair, and gray-green eyes common to many in the Chantry family tree.
    He frowned as he absently shoved the trailing tail of his plaid shirt back into the waistband of his faded jeans. “I’m telling you that if you want special effects that will really wow the guests at the Camelot Blue event, you’ll go for a romantic touch with the fake fog.”
    â€œThe guest list is riddled with teckies, bean counters, and high-level corporate execs. I doubt if any of them would recognize a romantic touch if it bit them on the throat.”
    â€œJust because you’re obsessed with business doesn’t mean everyone else is.”
    Olivia hesitated. The Camelot Blue event was an important contract for Light Fantastic. Alicia and Brian Duffield, cofounders of the company, belonged to Seattle’s new class of young, smart, affluent techno-wizards. They had hired Olivia’s event firm to produce the software launch event because she had convinced them that Light Fantastic could provide the high-tech flash they wanted to promote their products.
    The dazzle-and-glitter part was easy, Olivia thought. Thanks to her family connections, she had access to the state-of-the-art industrial lighting equipment and fixtures produced by Glow, Inc. Her resources had grown even more bountiful recently with the completion of the company’s new research and development lab. She raided it at will whenever she was in search of new special effects.
    She could handle flash, all right, she thought. But the archetypal romantic stuff worried her. Bolivar had a point. She was not very good at that kind of thing.
    â€œI still can’t figure out why they insisted on naming the company Camelot Blue,” she grumbled. “It doesn’t provide what you’d call a high-tech image.”
    â€œIt’s a teckie thing,” Bolivar explained. “Comes from playing all those fantasy games.”
    Olivia nodded reluctantly. She was well aware that Camelot Blue’s first product had been a software game, a futuristic version of the Arthurian legend. It had sold like gelato in August. The company had been growing in quantum leaps ever since that first trip to market. Now it was set for another big push with a new line of products.
    â€œBelieve me, Olivia, you want to go with theromance of the Arthurian legend on this.” Bolivar’s expression brightened as he looked past her. “Ask Aunt Zara. She’ll tell you I’m right.”
    Olivia glanced over her shoulder and saw her aunt walking toward them across the scarred wooden floors of the old factory loft. Olivia hid an affectionate smile.
    A former soap opera actress, Zara still knew how to make an entrance. Today she was a vision in a silver-studded denim jumpsuit and a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals. She had put on some weight since her retirement from the long-running daily drama
Crystal Cove
, but she managed to look voluptuous, not plump.
    Zara wore big shoulders and big hair with an aplomb that awed Olivia.
    Her years in Hollywood had endowed her with a fine eye for flashy design, which had proven invaluable to Light Fantastic.
    Olivia saw that Zara carried two plastic-covered latte cups decorated with the logo of Café Mantra. The tiny, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop and