Free Deadly Sanctuary by Sylvia Nobel Page A

myself. You’re out here and they’re in there, so you’re safe.
    My breath wheezed in my throat. I needed the inhaler but had no intention of going back inside. A few more shallow breaths had just begun to reinstate a semblance of self-control when the sound of a vehicle approaching sent me into a second fit of panic. I wasn’t dressed! Instinctively, I dove behind the fountain in the courtyard as Bradley’s truck braked to a halt.
    How was I going to explain this? I looked around hastily to find something to cover myself with, but, of course, there was nothing. I could find only one thing to be thankful for at that moment. At least I hadn’t stripped naked.
    A split-second fantasy had me running down the walkway and into his arms for aid and comfort. But even though I was terribly relieved to see him, I steeled myself against it. What would that do to my self-esteem? Was I to appear once again as the damsel in distress?
    Clad in a black western suit and looking taller and leaner than ever, he stopped in his tracks when he saw me crouching beside the fountain. His face registered disbelief.
    Stupidly, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You’re early.”
    Hat in hand, he cocked his head to the side and stared at me. “So it would appear.”
    Why had I said that? Subconsciously I knew, and I hated it. As he’d done with the javelinas, there was little doubt he was going to have to rescue me again.
    “I may be wrong,” he said, moving closer, “but don’t you think you’re slightly underdressed for this dinner party?”
    “No. I always go to black tie affairs in my underwear.”
    He gave me a thin smile. “Well, whatever smokes your shorts.” I said nothing and he added, “Okay, so do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing out here? Somehow I find it hard to believe, even though you are a greenhorn, that you’d make it a practice to prance around barefoot among the cactus?”
    I groaned and closed my eyes for a moment. Why was I behaving like such a coward? “I need help. I can’t go back in the house.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s a herd of spiders the size of softballs in my bathtub.” Thinking of it gave me the creepy-crawlies all over again.
    He looked quizzical. “A herd?”
    “Yeah. Go see for yourself.” I stood up on one foot and winced as I plucked several cactus thorns from the other.
    He started toward the house and then unexpectedly turned in my direction. Startled, I crossed my arms over my chest. It didn’t hide much.
    In silence, he removed his jacket and draped it gently around my shoulders. A warm, masculine scent wafted from the fabric. He made a great show of trying not to look at my mostly naked body. He failed.
    I suppressed a gasp as his touch sent a fiery tingle through me. “Thank you,” I mumbled, clutching the coat around me.
    He returned in a moment. His inquisitive gaze bored into mine. “Someone’s played a rather spectacular joke on you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many tarantulas all together in one spot before.”
    A thought struck me. “How come they haven’t crawled out?”
    “That’s curious. By the smell, I’d say somebody sprayed WD-40 on the porcelain. They can’t get enough traction to climb up.”
    The idea that someone had deliberately planned this sent another chill of horror through me. It had to be someone who knew about my spider phobia. Ginger? But no, Ginger couldn’t do something so despicable.
    Something else occurred to me. “I wonder how whoever it was got in?”
    “I checked already. The arcadia door in your bedroom was unlocked.”
    “That’s impossible. I remember very clearly locking it before I left this morning.”
    Bradley sighed. “Are you the only one with a key?”
    “Well, no. I’m sure Mary Tuggs has one. But she’s an unlikely candidate.” Who, I wondered, was a good candidate for this prank?
    “Then you must have left it unlocked,” he concluded with manly logic.
    “I