Quiet as the Grave by Kathleen O`Brien Page B

brown hair bounced on her shoulders.
    Not a policewoman. Way too feminine, in spite of her thin, boyish figure. Her body language too open and free to be a cop. Too casually dressed for a lawyer, too outdoorsy for a reporter.
    Still…he had a fleeting sense that he knew this woman, but before he could catch it the wispy image was gone.
    He stared at her as she picked her way across tree roots and fallen branches. He realized suddenly that the perfect paintball field might actually look kind of scruffy as a lawn.
    But she didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t tiptoe in exaggerated horror and scrunch up her nose, as Justine would have done.
    Who was it? Even when she got close enough to see her features, he had no idea. Whoever she was, he decided he liked her. She had great cheekbones, a jaw that said she didn’t take any shit, and a mouth that knew how to laugh.
    Finally, when she got close enough for him to see her eyes, he knew.
    It was impossible. This graceful, good-looking woman was…
    Mike’s heart began to race, and then it skidded in his chest, as if he were trying to throw on the brakes. He didn’t want this pretty woman to be Suzie. He wanted Suzie to stay geeky and smart-mouthed and purple…and permanently pissed at the world.
    He needed her to stay the same. Something in this godforsaken world ought to.
    Gavin didn’t have any such ambivalence. He threw down his paintball gun and began to run toward the woman, laughing.
    â€œSuzie,” he said. “It’s me, Gavin. Do you remember me?”
    Mike watched as the woman bent over and hugged his son. He waited until she lifted her gaze over Gavin’s head and met his eyes.
    â€œHi, Suzie. It’s me, Mike.” He tilted his head. “Remember me?”
    â€œYeah, I think I do,” she said, laughing, and when her eyes crinkled like that his heart stopped thumping quite so hard. It was still Suzie. In spite of the long, glossy hair, the contact lenses and the mind-boggling sexiness, the old Suzie, the real Suzie, was still in there.
    She’d been a good friend to him once. Maybe she still could be.
    He smiled. “How can you be so sure it’s me? You’ve changed. Haven’t I?”
    â€œNot a bit,” she said. “You’re still the only dork dumb enough to be roaming around at a time like this holding a goddamn gun .”
    She whisked her hands up over Gavin’s ears. “Ooops. Sorry.”
    Mike laughed out loud.
    â€œDon’t be,” he said. “I’m not. Come on, let’s go inside. I think I’m about ten years overdue for a good Suzie Strickland thrashing.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    S HE KNEW IT WAS CONSIDERED bad form to speak ill of the dead, but Suzie had always thought Justine Millner was trash, and she hadn’t ever disliked her as much as she did right now.
    Look what Justine had done to Mike. Suzie didn’t know whether it was marrying Justine or losing Justine that had done it, but Mike Frome was a different man.
    Ten years ago, he’d been one of the most infuriatingly smug boys in their high school. He’d also been one of the most attractive. Just being around him had been like chugging caffeine. He gave off this exciting zing of vitality that was addictive, even for Suzie, who ordinarily avoided the preppy crowd like poison.
    The zing was gone.
    Of course, he was still too handsome for his own good, she thought as he politely led her on a tour of his boathouse. On the outside, it was charming, white trim over dark wood, with dormers that overlooked the lake. Inside, it was large and surprisingly homey for a bachelor pad.
    Following behind him, she realized that he still had the sexiest back she’d ever seen, though now she looked at it purely with an artist’s eye. If she were to paint it, she’d start with a long triangle—she always reduced a face or body to its underlying geometricbasics first. Then she’d add finely