Chapter 3

           ***

           Kateisecstatic.

           “ButwhatwashedoingatClayton’s?”Hercuriosityoozesthroughthephone.I’minthedepthsofthestockroom,tryingtokeepmyvoicecasual.

           “Hewasinthearea.”

           “Ithinkthatisonehugecoincidence,Ana.Youdon’tthinkhewastheretoseeyou?”Myheartlurchesattheprospect,butit’sashort-livedjoy.Thedull,disappointingrealityisthathewashereonbusiness.

           “HewasvisitingthefarmingdivisionofWSU.He’sfundingsomeresearch,”Imutter.

           “Ohyes.He’sgiventhedepartmenta$2.5milliongrant.”Wow.

           “Howdoyouknowthis?”

           “Ana,I’majournalist,andI’vewrittenaprofileontheguy.It’smyjobtoknowthis.”

           “Okay,CarlaBernstein,keepyourhairon.Sodoyouwantthesephotos?”

           “OfcourseIdo.Thequestionis,who’sgoingtodothemandwhere.”

           “Wecouldaskhimwhere.Hesayshe’sstayinginthearea.”

           “Youcancontacthim?”

           “Ihavehiscellphonenumber.”

           Kategasps.

           “Therichest,mostelusive,mostenigmaticbachelorinWashingtonStatejustgaveyouhiscellphonenumber?”

           “Er…yes.”

           “Ana!Helikesyou.Nodoubtaboutit.”Hertoneisemphatic.

           “Kate,he’sjusttryingtobenice.”ButevenasIsaythewords,Iknowthey’renottrue—ChristianGreydoesn’tdonice.Hedoespolite,maybe.Andasmall,quietvoicewhispers,PerhapsKateisright.Myscalppricklesattheideathatmaybe,justmaybe,hemightlikeme.Afterall,hedidsayhewasgladKatedidn’tdotheinterview.