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  “They think what everyone else in Frequency thinks? That you fell hard for Landry, and when the affair was exposed in the press, you had no choice but to close your business and leave town?”

  “Yes.” She gave a tiny shrug. “Part of it was true. I didn’t have any choice but to leave Frequency. I decided that it would be safer for everyone. Besides, my business was doomed, anyway, after the scandal broke.”

  “Do you really believe that Landry could have carried out his threats?”

  “For the record, I don’t think he could have stopped Josh Santana from marrying my sister. I don’t think there’s any force on the planet that could keep those two apart. But Landry has more than enough power to make life hell for both of them as long as they live in Frequency City.”

  “The Guilds aren’t all-powerful, in spite of what you seem to think.”

  “Give me a break. Back in Cadence, if Mercer Wyatt set out to get a librarian and a midlevel executive fired, don’t you think he could call in some debts and get it done?”

  He exhaled slowly. She was right, he thought. Mercer Wyatt had spent years playing the IOU game in Cadence. He could do a lot of damage if he chose.

  “Yeah, probably,” he admitted.

  “And he certainly would be able to keep a young, newly minted research scientist like my brother off an exploration team. The Guilds have enormous control over who goes into the rain forest.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. The big difference is that Wyatt doesn’t operate that crudely.”

  “You mean, he wouldn’t cash in a lot of valuable debts to the Guild just to carry out a personal vendetta against a matchmaker.”

  “Be a waste of assets,” Davis said. “Wyatt is too smart to go in for that kind of petty manipulation.”

  “You mean he’s not crazy.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Wyatt is not crazy.”

  “Trust me, Benson Landry is.”

  Chapter 15

  MIDWAY THROUGH THE REHEARSAL DINNER, CELINDA’S great-aunt, Octavia, who was on her third green ruin martini, leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I like your new boyfriend.” Octavia winked. “He’s hot. Ghost hunter by any chance?”

  Celinda felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her only consolation was that it was highly unlikely that anyone else had overheard the comment. The large, private hotel dining room was packed with various members of the Ingram and Santana families as well as assorted bridesmaids and groomsmen. Two long tables, decorated with a sea of pink flowers, pink napkins, pink tablecloths, and pink favors, had been set up to accommodate the crowd. Pink champagne and cocktails had been flowing freely all evening. Things were getting loud.

  “Not exactly,” Celinda whispered back.

  “You sure?” Octavia asked. She looked skeptical.

  Octavia was a small, dynamic woman who, after she had a few martinis in her, tended to veer toward the unpredictable and outrageous. Tonight she wore one of the blonde big-hair wigs from her vast collection and sparkled under the weight of what must have been a couple of pounds of glittery costume jewelry.

  There were certainly those in the Ingram clan who were of the opinion that Aunt Octavia’s skirts were too short and her heels were too high for a woman of her age, but Celinda was not one of them. She usually found her aunt wonderfully entertaining. But tonight she was starting to get a little worried.

  Everyone had been polite and friendly this afternoon, but, as she had warned Davis, her arrival at the hotel with a strange man had sent shock waves through the family. Fortunately, what might under normal circumstances have been an overwhelming flood of pointed questions had been drastically tempered by the fact that the focus of attention was on the bridal couple.

  Celinda had concluded that she and Davis just might be able to pull off the deception if they could escape early from the reception tomorrow evening.

  But now Octavia, fueled by the martinis, was starting to get dangerous.

  Octavia leaned back in her chair and squinted a little to get a better look at Davis, who was seated on the other side of Celinda. At the moment Davis was deep in conversation with Celinda’s brother, Walker. They were talking about the rain forest expedition team that Walker planned to join next month.

  Octavia chuckled. “Your Davis reminds me of a hunter I knew when I was your age.” She fanned herself theatrically with a napkin. “Talk about hot. Ooh-hah. I’ll never forget that night we went down into the catacombs, just the two of us, with a sleeping bag. He worked a little ghost light, and I’m telling you, talk about setting fire to the sheets.” She paused reflectively. “Actually, he did set fire to the sleeping bag. It was an accident, of course. The ghost he pulled got a little too close and—”

  “Aunt Octavia, please,” Celinda interrupted, a little desperate. “I told you, Davis is not a ghost hunter. He’s in the security business.”

  “Don’t care what line he’s in, I’m sure that man must be some kind of hunter.” Octavia peered at Davis again. “Not the usual type, though. Whatever he is, he’s strong. Yes, indeedy, I can feel some real psi energy there.”

  The problem was that Octavia probably did sense Davis’s energy. It was no secret in the family that Celinda had inherited at least certain elements of her particular psi talents from her.

  The difference between them was that, although Octavia could sense energy in others, she could not read the waves and patterns the way Celinda could. She would never have been able to distinguish between the clean, strong currents that came from Davis and the twisted, scary patterns given off by a man like Benson Landry. She did, however, recognize raw power when she picked up the vibes.

  “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention your theory to anyone else, Aunt Octavia,” Celinda said in a very low voice. What was it Davis had said? Something about sticking to the truth as much as possible. “Davis is nonstandard. Like you and me. He tries to downplay his talent. You know how it is; if it got out that he’s a little different, it could hurt his business.”

  “Of course.” Octavia assumed a sage air and took another swallow of her martini. “Perfectly understandable. Mum’s the word.”

  “Thanks.” Celinda picked up her wineglass and took a healthy swallow. It was going to be a very long night.

  At the far end of the table, her father, Newell, and the groom’s father, Anthony Santana, rose to toast the bridal pair.

  Newell Ingram was of medium height, wiry and compact. His green eyes were lit with intelligence and good humor. He picked up a spoon and gave Celinda’s mother a private smile. It was the sort of smile that only two people who have known each other for a very long time could exchange.

  Gloria Ingram reached out and briefly touched his hand. Celinda looked at her lovely, vivacious mother and thought how radiant she was tonight.

  Newell used the spoon to strike a water glass lightly. The room fell silent.

  He smiled proudly at Rachel and launched into a small, fatherly speech that had every woman in the room reaching for tissues.

  “Ever since you were born, I’ve known this day would come,” he said quietly, as though speaking to her alone. “I used to lie awake at nights worrying about it, dreading it. And yet, more than anything else in the world, I wanted you to find the kind of happiness that your mother and I have known.”

  Celinda looked at her sister through a film of happy tears. Rachel was glowing. Her pale blonde hair was cut in a graceful curve, framing her delicate features and beautiful eyes. Tomorrow in her wedding dress she was going to look like a princess out of a fairy tale, Celinda thought.

  Beside her, Josh Santana, dark-haired and dark-eyed, held her hand. He looked handsome and so very proud.

  Celinda smiled a little to herself. A perfect match.

  “…And so, Josh, I welcome you into our family,” Newell concluded. “I know that you will make my little girl very happy. That is all I ask.”

  Everyone rose to drink the toast. A cheer went up.

  Davis leaned in clo
se to Celinda. “Nice family.”

  “Yes, I know.” She dabbed at her eye with her pink napkin. “I’ve been so worried that moving away from Frequency might not have been enough—” She broke off abruptly, not wanting to spoil the moment.

  “You were afraid that moving away might not have been enough to protect them from Landry?”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  Everyone sat down again. Mr. Santana launched into his toast.

  “Joshua, I also knew this day was coming from the moment of your birth. Your mother and I worried about it more than you will ever know. But when you introduced us to your beautiful Rachel, we knew that we could relax and rejoice. You have chosen well, my son.”

  Celinda and the other women seized more tissues.

  At the end of his father’s speech, Josh surprised everyone by rising to his feet and picking up his glass. He smiled straight at Celinda.

  “There is one more toast to be made tonight. Celinda, Rachel and I want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for giving us the gift of a perfect match. We like to think that fate would have brought us together somehow, some way. But the truth is, this is a big city. We might never have found each other if it hadn’t been for your matchmaking talents. Tomorrow we will enter into a Covenant Marriage knowing that we have made the best decision of our lives. We will always be grateful to you.”

  Everyone leaped to their feet again. A round of applause went up.

  Celinda could hardly see her sister’s smiling face through her tears. She grabbed another tissue.

  THE DINNER ENDED A LONG TIME LATER, THE GUESTS drifting away into the hotel bar or upstairs to their rooms. Davis put an arm around Celinda’s waist and guided her toward the door. He could feel the tension that tightened her whole body. She had done a great job of acting during the dinner, even managing to look as if she were enjoying herself. But he could tell that the whole wedding scene was an ordeal for her instead of the happy celebration it should have been. All because of a bastard named Benson Landry.

  “Had an interesting conversation with your brother,” he said in an effort to ease her fragile mood. “He’s sure excited about joining one of the jungle teams.”

  Before she could respond, Newell and Gloria Ingram stepped directly into their path. Both were smiling, but he could see the implacable determination in their eyes.

  “I warned you this wasn’t going to be simple,” Celinda whispered. “Prepare to be grilled.”

  “Take it easy,” he said softly. “Just follow my lead.”

  “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to chat, Davis,” Gloria said warmly. “Things have been so busy. We’re delighted that you’re here, though. So nice to know that Celinda is making new friends in Cadence.”

  “Have a nightcap with us in the bar?” Newell said in a tone that left no room for refusal.

  Celinda looked more uneasy than ever. Panicky would not have been too strong a word, Davis thought.

  “It’s late,” she said on a tone of false regret. “Big day tomorrow.”

  Davis smiled at Newell and Gloria. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”

  They took a booth at the back of the dimly lit bar. When the small glasses containing the after-dinner drinks had been served, Gloria looked directly at Davis.

  “How did the two of you meet?”

  “Luck,” he said. “I was investigating a case involving a stolen artifact. The trail led straight to Celinda’s office.”

  Celinda’s fingers froze around her glass.

  Newell narrowed his eyes. “You thought Celinda was a suspect?”

  “No,” Davis said calmly. “The missing artifact wound up in an antique shop. Celinda happened to purchase it. She didn’t know it was stolen, of course. I offered to buy it back from her and return it to my client. We made a deal.” He paused to smile at Celinda. “The next thing I knew, I was asking her out to dinner. One thing led to another, and here we are.”

  Newell seemed satisfied with that. “Just one of those chance meetings, then.”

  “Right,” Davis said.

  Gloria looked at Celinda. “In other words, you didn’t meet through a matchmaker.”

  “Good grief, no, Mom.” Celinda rezzed up a reassuring smile. “Neither of us is looking for a permanent match at the moment. I mean, we’re both so busy with our work. We’re just enjoying each other’s company. Nothing serious.”

  She didn’t have to make it sound that casual, Davis thought, irritated.

  “I see,” Gloria said. She did not appear greatly relieved, but there was not much she could say.

  “Was the relic valuable?” Newell asked with genuine curiosity.

  “The shopkeeper only charged me five dollars for it,” Celinda said quickly.

  Newell frowned. “Someone hired a private investigator to track down an artifact worth only five bucks?”

  “It has a lot of sentimental value to my client,” Davis said smoothly.

  Celinda nearly choked on a sip of her drink. She lowered the glass and grabbed a napkin. Davis decided she was probably having a tough time imagining a sentimental Guild boss. He had to admit it was a bit of a stretch.

  “How long have you two known each other?” Gloria asked.

  “A while,” Davis said before Celinda could speak.

  “And you’re not serious about each other,” Gloria said, coolly polite, “yet she brought you to a family wedding.”

  “Celinda is the one who said we weren’t serious.” Davis sipped his drink and lowered the glass. “I’m hoping to change her mind.”

  On the other side of the table, Celinda’s eyes widened in shock. “No, really,” she got out weakly. “We’re just friends.”

  “Yeah, really,” he said. He turned back to Gloria. “Don’t worry, though, I plan to give her plenty of time to get to know me.”

  Gloria cleared her throat in a very meaningful way. “If the two of you do get serious, I’m sure you will, of course, consult a marriage consultant.”

  It was not a suggestion, Davis thought. More like a parental demand.

  “Definitely,” Celinda said, bobbing her head up and down very quickly. “Don’t worry, Mom. You know me; I wouldn’t dream of doing something stupid like getting married without the advice of an expert. Goodness, no one knows more than a marriage consultant just how important it is to get professional help. I’m sure Davis agrees. Don’t you, Davis?”

  “Right,” Davis said neutrally, “professional help. It worked so well for me last time. Why wouldn’t I want to repeat the experience?”

  Celinda glared at him.

  Newell’s brow crinkled. He looked vaguely baffled.

  “I beg your pardon?” Gloria said, rounding on Davis in sudden suspicion. “Are you married, Mr. Oakes?”

  “No, Mrs. Ingram.” He watched Celinda over the rim of his glass. “Had a close call a while back, though.”

  “Davis had a somewhat negative experience with a marriage consultant,” Celinda explained in icy accents. “He employed a matchmaker who evidently did not know what she was doing. Fortunately, he and his fiancée discovered that they were not right for each other before the Covenant Wedding took place, so there was no harm done.”

  “No harm done,” Davis repeated thoughtfully. “Now, there’s an interesting way of looking at it. I, however, take a somewhat different view.”

  Celinda’s glare grew more stern. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, my experience with a marriage consultant can pretty much be summed up as nonrefundable,” he said.

  Celinda and Gloria were both looking mystified now, but an expression of deep sympathy appeared on Newell’s face.

  “Nonrefundable.” Newell shook his head with a grave air. “Not good. Not good at all.”

  Celinda and her mother switched their attention to him and then back to Davis.

  “What are you two talking about?” Gloria demanded.

  “Nonrefundable honeymoon cruise tickets,”
Davis said. “Nonrefundable deposits on the caterers’ bills and the rental of the hotel ballroom and a few thousand bucks worth of flowers. Did you know that flowers are not returnable? And then there was the champagne. Didn’t open one damn bottle, but I still got charged for most of it.”

  “Wait a second,” Celinda said, “the cruise tickets I understand. Are you saying you got stuck with the rest of the expenses, too?”

  He gave her a steely smile. “My fiancée had always dreamed of a full-blown Covenant Marriage, but her family didn’t have enough money to pay for it. So, thinking I was making a long-term investment, I picked up the tab.”

  Celinda winced. “Oh, dear.”

  Newell shuddered. “When I think of what I would have been out if Rachel and Josh had called off their marriage at the last minute, I get cold chills down my spine.”

  “Nevertheless,” Gloria said, exuding womanly wisdom, “far better to find out that things are not going to work out before a Covenant Marriage takes place than afterward.”

  “I won’t argue that point,” Davis said. “I’m just saying it was an expensive lesson about the fallibility of professional matchmakers.”

  Celinda fixed him with an air of grim challenge. “Surely you don’t mean that you would rather trust your own judgment than use a professional consultant the next time?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see how I could do any worse.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she shot back, “that’s like me saying I’d rather do my own detective work rather than hire a professional investigator.”

  “It’s not the same thing at all.”

  “It is, too. There is solid statistical evidence and a number of parapsych studies proving that people who follow the advice of a properly trained matchmaker are far more likely to contract happy, fulfilling marriages than those who don’t use a professional.”

  “Sounds like you’re quoting from that book of yours again.”

  “Maybe you should read it.” She folded her arms on the table and narrowed her eyes. “The statistics and the citations for the studies are all in the appendix.”