Orchid Read Online Free PDF Page B

Elvira put in helpfully. “Apparently Morland was paranoid about the syn-psych labs. Seemed to think the experts might destroy his artistic visions if he allowed them to try to realign his metaphysical energy waves.”
    â€œCan’t blame him for steering clear of the labs.” Orchid reflected briefly on her own extremely unpleasant experiences in a synergistic psychology research lab three years earlier. Lately the old nightmares had returned in full force. She’d had two this week. “If I could make a fortune writing poetry like that, I wouldn’t want anyone messing with my para-energy waves, either.”
    Elvira chuckled. “An excellent point, my dear. I take it you are not a great admirer of the meta-zen-syn philosophical poetry?”
    â€œTo be honest, no,” Orchid admitted.
    Rafe did not bother to conceal his exasperation. “Why not?”
    She wondered, not for the first time, why her opinion mattered to him. “I consider it at best to be a dead-end in literature. More likely it was a huge joke foisted on the literary world.”
    â€œI see.” Elvira raised her delicately arched silver brows. “How very intriguing to think that I risked so much just to steal a poetic joke.”
    â€œBut I do admire the writers’ financial sense,” Orchid added. “Unlike most poets, they got rich. Their works still grace the shelves of every library in the tri-city-states and there was a time when they were the hottest thing in the bookstores. Everyone who was anyone read the stuff.”
    â€œI have three originals in my own collection,” Rafe said in a dangerously neutral voice. “A Morland, a Jenkins, and a Singh.”
    Orchid told herself that she should not allow him to goad her. But the man had an attitude and it made her reckless. She’d always had this problem, she thought. She could already hear a distinct sucking sound but she could not resist putting her foot a little deeper into the jelly-quicksand.
    â€œGot to hand it to those meta-zen-syn philosophical poets,” she said cheerfully. “Morland and his pals wereshrewd businesspeople, even if their poetry does sound like something a fifth grader might write.”
    There was a short, highly charged silence.
    â€œI suppose it would be too much to expect you to appreciate the clear, strong visual strength of meta-zen-syn poetry,” Rafe said in suspiciously civil tones.
    The polished edge of his voice was so sharp Orchid was pretty sure it could have severed bone. She gave him her brightest smile.
    â€œYeah,” she said. “A little too much to expect.”
    His eyes narrowed.
    â€œYou may as well give it up, Rafe, dear.” An amused twinkle lit Elvira’s merry blue eyes. “I don’t think that you will be able to intimidate Miss Adams into pretending that she admires philosophical poetry.”
    â€œObviously,” Rafe said dryly.
    She did not look at him but Orchid knew that, unlike Elvira, Rafe was not twinkling.
    Orchid smiled blandly. “‘Synergy, confluence, harmony. Even chaos seeks balance’.” She quoted smoothly.
    Elvira’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Why, that’s lovely, dear. Which meta-zen-syn poet wrote those lines?”
    â€œI did. Mrs. Kramer’s fifth-grade class.”
    Elvira laughed. “Point taken.”
    Rafe did not laugh. She could feel the brooding stillness in him as surely as she could sense his aura of paranormal power. She was fairly certain that if she turned around to look at him she would risk a nasty cut from the knife-sharp edge of annoyance in his icy gray eyes.
    Why did he care whether or not she admired the stolen volume of Morland poetry? she wondered. The question was just one more on the long list that she had been compiling on Rafe Stonebraker all week.
    She did not know what to make of him. At times she had the disturbing impression that he was studying her.Or perhaps