Lisa Jackson - Most Likely To Die

But when Wyatt said he was coming to New York right away, Lindsay immediately suggested meeting in a public place.

She didn’t say it that way, of course.

When he asked, “Where do you live?” she replied immediately, and nervously, “Oh, I’ll just meet you somewhere. I was going out to run some errands on the way to work, so…”

Errands? On the way to work?

No, you weren’t, Lindsay. You made that up-why? So that you wouldn’t have to meet Wyatt Goddard in your apartment?

She could think of just two reasons a woman wouldn’t want to be alone with a man. One, because she was afraid he might hurt her.

Two, because she was afraid he might make a move on her.

With Wyatt Goddard, either scenario was a possibility.

Not that he had ever hurt someone, to her knowledge. But there always was an air of danger about him.

In fact, to her own private amusement, his name came up a few times in the wake of Jake’s murder-as a suspect.

Not officially, though the police did question him. But they questioned everyone who had been at the dance that night. Methodically. Taking more time with some kids-like Lindsay, who had found him, and Kristen, who had been his date-than with others.

Wyatt was never an official suspect, but there was plenty of talk, particularly among Jake’s friends, that he could have done it. Mostly because he was an outsider, never one of them. And because he had been there that night, with Jake’s sister.

Of course, she kept her distance from him after that.

Pretty much everyone did.

Then again, they all kept their distance from each other, too, their close-knit group hopelessly frayed as graduation loomed.

By that July, everyone had gone their separate ways.

This July, they were planning to come together again at last before the old school was destroyed.

But some of them wouldn’t live to see that day.

And those who did would be forever haunted by all that had gone before.

Lindsay Farrell would be part of the former group.

She hadn’t yet decided where Wyatt Goddard was going to wind up now that he was back on the scene.

She’d just have to wait and see what happened between him and Lindsay.

They were meeting just down this next block, in a large, popular coffee shop Lindsay had suggested. It would probably be crowded at this hour of the morning.

Crowded enough that no one would give a second glance to a frumpy, heavyset blonde dining solo.

But too crowded, she saw in dismay as she arrived in the doorway, for her to possibly land a seat anywhere near Lindsay and Wyatt.

There they were, greeting each other right now at a small booth near the back, surrounded by other booths and tables, all of them occupied.

Lindsay she had already glimpsed many times these last few days, having kept her under close surveillance. She had been seated when Wyatt arrived, her back to the door.

Now, after they had exchanged a brief, awkward grasp of each other’s arms-which wasn’t a hug, but wasn’t anything else, either-Wyatt sat down facing the door, and she did a double take.

She hadn’t seen him in twenty years.

If she weren’t looking for him, expecting to see him there, it would have taken her a while to recognize him.

He was still tall, dark, and handsome. More so than ever, in fact.

But there was a sophistication about him that had never been there before. He wore a dark suit, white shirt, and tie-obviously expensive, even from here.

Even if she were able to sidle into the vicinity-confident they wouldn’t recognize her between the wig, the padding, and the glasses-she wouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying. It was much too loud in here: chattering voices, clattering silverware and plates, jaunty Greek music playing in the background.

Disappointed, she turned and left the coffee shop, realizing she’d just have to piece it all together later.

There he was.

Right in front of her.

Looking at her, presumably, from behind the dark glasses that shielded his eyes.

Touching her-his hands on her lower arms in a brief grasp-but that was all.

And that’s good, Lindsay told herself, trying not to be disappointed that he didn’t initiate a hug or kiss. That would have been too awkward. It wasn’t as though they were officially long-lost friends-or long-lost anything.

Not officially.

“You look really good, Wyatt.”

Why did I say that? she wondered on the heels of her impromptu comment as they both settled into the booth-she for the second time.

I said it because it’s true, for one thing. He does look really good.

Great, in fact.

She never in a million years expected Wyatt Goddard to show up dressed like a successful businessman, cleanshaven below his sunglasses, his black hair attractively cut with a bristly top that seemed to beg her fingers to spike it further.

Was he a successful businessman?

He must be successful at something, living where he does. The Fairfield County shore towns weren’t affordable otherwise.

“You look pretty good yourself, Lindsay.”

Dammit, she could feel her cheeks growing hot at the innocuous compliment.

Or maybe it wasn’t so innocuous.

She looked up to see that he had removed his black shades and was looking at her as though…

Well, as though he hadn’t forgotten what had happened between them that New Year’s Eve.

She hadn’t, either. Not for a second.

But not, apparently, for the same reason as him.

Oh, she definitely remembered what it had been like-Wyatt Goddard making love to her.

You don’t forget your first time.

But she had a feeling she wouldn’t have forgotten Wyatt even if he had been her hundredth lover, or her thousandth.

How ironic that after going out with Jake for so long-two years-she never could bring herself to sleep with him. Everyone assumed that they were. And he assumed that they would.

Right, and he pressured her from the start. Jake Marcott was used to getting what he wanted-including sex. He couldn’t believe his girlfriend wasn’t willing to provide it. Back then, Lindsay marveled that he stuck around anyway.

Now, having learned infinitely more about human psychology, she had a feeling that if she had given in, he wouldn’t have stayed with her for as long as he did.

You always want what you can’t have.

And, if you were Jake Marcott, you were hell bent on getting it.

That was what kept him around.

And it was why he finally got fed up and dumped her.

She wasn’t quite sure why she never gave in to Jake back then, she only knew that it wouldn’t be right. She loved him, yes-but there was something about him that she just didn’t trust.

How strange, then, that she instinctively trusted Wyatt Goddard from the moment they first connected. Really connected-at that New Year’s Eve party.

She knew who he was before that, of course. He was always around, on her peripheral radar, but she was with Jake. And even if she hadn’t been, Wyatt wasn’t her type. He had too much of an edge…or so she believed.

Maybe that was because she’d never gotten a good look at him. At his eyes. Not until that night.

Unless you were a rock star, you could hardly show up at an indoor party, in the evening, in the dead of winter, wearing sunglasses. So there he was, without his ever-present shades-looking at her. She could feel his stare long before she allowed herself to meet it. And when she did…

Well, it might just as well have been midnight. Fireworks and confetti seemed to erupt with fanfare somewhere inside her, heralding the beginning of something new and promising.

She was drawn to Wyatt Goddard as she had never been drawn to anyone before.

At the party-and afterward. When they were alone together.