Zinnia Read Online Free PDF Page B

the shadow of that which was wrong or dangerous, he found himself hungering for that which felt right.
    And Zinnia Spring felt inexplicably right.
    It made no sense. She had just accused him of kidnapping.
    He tried to make himself step back into that remote, detached place where he could study and assess without reacting to what he saw. He made himself look at Zinnia with the calculating intuition that was such an essential part of his nature.
    She was striking but not beautiful. He liked the way her straight nose, high forehead, and well-defined cheekbones came together in a package that could only be called aristocratic. The dark sweep of her hair curved sleekly at chin length.
    By any standard, there were far more stunning women dealing gin-poker at the tables downstairs. There were several working the bar at the very moment who could make heads turn from a block away. And the new redheaded lounge singer was considered spectacular by every man and a few of the ladies in the casino.
    Unfortunately, one of the curses of a strong matrix-talent was that a man who possessed it found himself looking at lovely women in a decidedly skewed manner. Nick could appreciate superficial feminine beauty as well as the next healthy heterosexual male, but the physical attraction that resulted was also superficial. The older he got, the more unsatisfying relationships based on that attraction proved to be.
    He wanted something else, something more, something deeper, something infused with meaning. He wanted something he did not understand and could not name.
    The unfulfilled yearning had grown stronger during the past few years. It had played havoc with his sex life, which, he reflected glumly, had become virtually nonexistent in recent months. He wondered if all matrix-talents were burdened with this unpleasant side effect of their paranormal power or if he was just especially ill-fated.
    He pushed the intruding thoughts aside and indicatedthe chair that Hobart Batt had recently vacated. “Please sit down, Miss Spring. Obviously we have a lot to discuss.”
    She glanced at the chair, hesitated, and then walked defiantly over to it, sat down, and crossed her legs. One red high-heel shoe swung impatiently. “The only thing I want to talk about is Morris Fenwick.”
    â€œStrangely enough, that’s the subject that interests me most at the moment, also.” He leaned back against the desk and planted his hands on the elaborately carved edge. “Let’s start by straightening out a minor misunderstanding. I don’t know where Fenwick is.”
    She eyed him with a trace of uncertainty. “I don’t believe you.”
    â€œIt’s the truth. I swear it. I may not fit your image of a respectable businessman, Miss Spring, but if you know anything at all about me, you must be aware that my word is considered good enough to take to the bank.”
    â€œYou’re the only one who would have had any reason to kidnap Morris.”
    â€œFenwick, himself, told you that there is someone else who is interested in the Chastain journal.”
    Zinnia frowned. “Yes, but he said that you were the one who seemed most obsessive about it. He said that you claimed that it was written by a relative.”
    â€œMy father, Bartholomew Chastain. The journal is the record of his last expedition into the uncharted islands of the Western Seas.”
    She studied him carefully. “That would be the Third Chastain Expedition. The one in which the crew is said to have mysteriously vanished.”
    â€œYes.”
    She looked distinctly wary now. He could see that she was swiftly slotting him into a mental file labeled
    KOOKS, ECCENTRICS, AND OTHER ASSORTED WEIRDOS.
    â€œThere isn’t much information on the Third,” shepointed out diplomatically. “According to the official sources, it never took place. Morris told me that the University of New Portland records show that it was canceled. And everyone