Free Trust No One by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

specimens for academic and pharmaceutical research. If her stories were to be believed, she had also gathered numerous lovers along the way. Grace found Agnes’s reminiscences entirely credible.
    After retiring Agnes had devoted herself to competitive gardening in Cloud Lake. She had never married and had made it clear that she preferred to live alone. But shortly after Harley Montoya had moved to town, that situation had been somewhat modified.
    The competition between Agnes and Harley had led, perhaps inevitably, to a discreet, long-term affair. Without fail, Harley’s truck was seen parked in Agnes’s driveway every Wednesday and Saturday night. It was always gone before dawn.
    “It’s risky to let men spend the entire night, dear,” Agnes had once explained to Grace. “It gives them the notion that you’re going to start cooking and cleaning for them.”
    Grace paused halfway across the garden. “Hi, Agnes. Yes, it’s a great day.”
    The rain was getting heavier but Grace knew that neither of them was going to mention that little fact. There was some natural, built-incompetition between positive thinkers, just as there was between gardeners.
    “Going to waylay Mr. Arkwright, dear?” Agnes asked. “I saw him go past a while ago.”
    “I thought I’d give it a whirl,” Grace said.
    “I take it the blind date went well, then.” Agnes sounded gratified. “I was pretty sure it had when I heard you chase him out of the house last night. That sort of activity early on is always a sign of a promising start in a relationship.”
    “Does everyone in town know about my blind date with Julius?” Grace asked.
    “I expect there are a few folks who haven’t been paying attention,” Agnes said, “but for the most part I think it’s safe to say it’s common knowledge. You’re rather famous around here, dear, at least among those of us who have lived in Cloud Lake for a while. Have a wonderful day, dear.”
    Agnes went back inside. The door banged shut behind her.
    The little wrought iron garden gate was designed to be decorative. It was not a security device. Grace unlatched it and stepped out onto the path. Her timing was perfect. She could see Julius coming toward her.
    When he saw her he slowed his pace. By the time he was a few yards away he was walking.
    He came to a halt in front of her and smiled a slow, wicked smile that was reflected in his eyes. He suddenly looked younger and almost carefree.
    “Well, if it isn’t Little Red Riding Hood.” His smile widened into a wolfish grin. “And to think I never believed in fairy tales.”
    Grace glanced down at her red jacket. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
    “Okay, the red coat and hood thing is sheer coincidence,” she said.
    “If you say so.”
    Julius was drenched with sweat and rain. The front of his gray pullover was soaked. His hair was plastered to his head. Rivulets of water mixed with perspiration streamed down his face.
    Normally she was not keen on sweaty men. She knew some women were attracted to males who looked as if they had just emerged from a cage fight but she was not one of them. But Julius Arkwright drenched in sweat was an altogether different beast. Standing this close to him aroused something primal deep inside.
    Focus, woman.
    “You probably wonder why I’m out here in the rain, barring your path,” she said.
    “I’m going to take a flying leap and say the picnic basket has some significance.”
    “Yes, it does,” she said. “Here’s another clue, I am not on my way to Grandma’s house.”
    “That leaves us with a high probability that you have deliberately intercepted me.”
    “A very strong possibility,” she agreed.
    He glanced at the closed lid of the wicker basket with an expression of deep interest. “What have you got in there?”
    “A bribe.”
    “Who do you plan to bribe?”
    “A consultant, I hope.”
    He raised his brows. “You are in need of a consultant?”
    “Apparently so.”
    “What do