Page 7 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
She heard the driver say, “This is it, ma’am. You’ve arrived.”
And she thought,Maybe I have, as she crawled from the car.
And again as she climbed the stairs.
And once more as she stood in the cabin, surrounded by glossy wood and rich, soft leather, wondering if New Jet Smell was a thing because, if so, this jet definitely had it.
It felt like more than just thestart of a trip. It was the start of a new chapter. And for the first time in almost a year, Maggie felt herself begin to smile. And hope. And wonder—
A toilet flushed. The lavatory door opened. And a deep voice exclaimed, “Marcie!”
Maggie spun around, but the jet door was already rising—already closing. It was too late to turn back now.
Chapter Five
Maggie was having a nightmare. Yes. That had to be it. Her teeth were falling out and she’d just remembered a class she hadn’t been to all semester and, oh yeah, she was locked inside a metal tube that would soon be hurtling over open water...
With Ethan. Freaking. Wyatt.
She was going to wake up, though. It was going to be okay. This wasn’t actually—
“Hi there.”
At first glance, Maggie had thought the jet seemed huge, but it suddenly felt small. Very small. Entirely too small! Because Ethan Freaking Wyatt was stepping out of the (presumably even smaller!) lavatory and... Had his shoulders always been that wide? And had he always been that tall? He started forward, squeezing down theentirely too smallaisle of thatentirely too smallairplane, and, really, did no one care about carbon emissions? Aeronautic safety? Maggie’s sanity? There was simply no way this teeny tiny plane was large enough for Maggie. And her luggage. And Ethan Wyatt’s shoulders. And arms. And ego.
“Crime-fighting cat got your tongue?” Ethan flashed a mischievous grin that he’d probably been giving his whole hot guy life. It was no doubt heavily insured. He could probably use it as collateral for a loan.
It was almost worth being stuck in this terrible dream to watch the smirk slide slowly off his chiseled face. He was looking at her curiously, like maybe he’d never met anyone who was immune to his particular brand of charisma. Like he didn’t know whether that should make him respect her more or resent her less. But more than anything, he seemed confused.
“Well, Marcie, my dear, we seem to be going on this little adventure together.” When he reached for the safety rail thatran along the ceiling of the jet his shirt rode up and— Wasthat an ab?Yes, there were definitely abs under there—the kind that you cansee. And presumablytouch. But Maggie wasn’t thinking about touching. Nope. Not even a little bit.
“Why are you here?” Was she shouting? It was hard to tell over the pounding of her blood and that persistent ringing in her ears.
But Ethan merely raised an eyebrow likeisn’t it obvious?“Mysterious invitation from a mysterious benefactor to... well... mystery writers?”
And then Maggie didn’t speak: she laughed. The quick kind. The loud kind. Theguffawkind. “Iwrite mysteries. You write...” She stopped herself, but Ethan simply raised an eyebrow in a way that looked like a question but felt like a dare. “You know what you write.”
“Oh, no. I think I want you to tell me.” There was a smile in his voice, like this was fun and not a nightmare come to life. “What kind of books do I write?”
“You’re a leather jacket guy.” He was currentlytheLeather Jacket Guy, but Maggie didn’t say so. “You write leather jacket books.”
He gave her a look likeI know I’m going to regret asking this but...“What, exactly, is a leather jacket book?”
As if he didn’t know. “They are books with car chases and gunfights and back covers that are nothing but giant author photos of dudes who are always—always—wearing a leather jacket.”
“I see. So you know everything there is to know about me, then.” His tone was a mixture of wry amusement and intimidatingcalm. “So what about you?”
“What about me?” Maggie’s voice was suddenly a half octave higher than it should be.
“What do I need to know about you?” He adjusted his grip on the railing, shirt riding up and abs peeking out again, and Maggie totally forgot the question. “You know... Hi, Ethan.” His voice went slightly higher too. “I’m Mar—”
“Maggie,” she cut in before he could get it wrong.
“—ga-ret,” he changed on the fly. “I’m a Sagittarius—”
“Capricorn.”
“Virgo rising.”
