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museum staff?”
    “Not exactly.” Amaryllis tried to look calm and composed. “I’m posing as his marriage agency date for the evening.”
    The effect was immediate and not especially gratifying, in Amaryllis’s opinion.
    “You’re going to the reception as a marriage agency candidate for Lucas Trent?” Byron looked stunned. “I don’t believe it.”
    Clementine whistled soundlessly. “Hot synergy. Who’d have thought of that?”
    “What’s so strange about it?” Amaryllis angled her chin. “Mr. Trent happens to be in the process of registering at a matchmaking agency. He told me so himself.”
    Clementine’s eyes danced. “Talk about life’s little ironies, huh? What would your aunt and uncle say?”
    “Aunt Hannah and Uncle Oscar don’t know about this, and I have no intention of telling them.” Amaryllis fixed Clementine and Byron with a warning glare. Her aunt and uncle, together with most of the rest of her family lived an hour’s drive from the city in the rural farm town of Lower Bellevue. There was no reason for any of her relatives to ever learn about Thursday night’s activities. “Furthermore, if either of you blabs, I will personally exact a terrible vengeance.”
    Byron held up both hands, palms out. “Don’t worry, Clementine and I won’t breathe a word.”
    “We won’t have to,” Clementine said dryly. “The museum reception will be heavily covered by the media. You can bet that a lot of the out-of-town papers will carry the story. Nelson Burlton himself will probably be there. Trust me, Amaryllis, on Friday morning your aunt and uncle will open the Lower Bellevue Journal and see a lovely picture of their precious niece clinging to the arm of one of the richest men in the city.”
    “Oh lord.” Amaryllis dropped her head into her hands. “I forgot about the press.”
    Byron’s eyes danced with mischief. “This assignment is starting to sound more interesting by the minute.”
    Amaryllis glowered. “That’s enough out of you, Smyth-Jones.”
    Clementine held up one hand for silence. “That’s enough, boys and girls. We’re trying to run a business around here. Save the squabbling for later. Amaryllis, you’d better take the rest of the afternoon off.”
    “Why?”
    “Because in about forty-eight hours you’ll be attending the major social event of the season in the company of one of the most important businessmen in the city. Something tells me that you haven’t got a thing to wear.”
    Panic assailed Amaryllis. “Good heavens. I’ve got to go shopping.”
    Byron eyed her with critical appraisal. “Try one of the new flutter dresses. Green would be good on you.”
    “He’s right, Amaryllis.” Clementine paused in the doorway. “Try that boutique on Fifth Avenue. That’s where Gracie does a lot of her shopping. Tell the store to send the bill to Psynergy, Inc.” She winked. “The dress will definitely be a business expense.”
    “The best part,” Byron said with unconcealed envy, “is that you’ll get to ride in his car.”
    “What’s so special about that?” Amaryllis asked.
    “It’s an Icer. I saw it parked outside. What a beauty.”
    With any luck, she would finally exorcise Lucas Trent from her mind tonight.
    Amaryllis slipped the new flutter dress over her head and watched in the mirror as it floated into place. Experimentally, she took a few steps, watching her reflection. The green, jewel-toned scarves that comprised the cleverly designed gown wafted gently with every move. The silky material seemed to be in constant motion. When she turned slightly, it clung briefly at hip and thigh. When she walked, it drifted around her legs and danced on the air.
    She took two quick steps, pirouetted, and whirled around to peer at her image in the mirror. The scarves settled demurely into place. She touched the neckline, wondering if it was just a bit too low, and then reminded herself that this was an evening affair. Many of the gowns would be cut much