Kiss and Tell (10 page)

Another car’s headlights appeared behind Marsh, and he waved it on. They’d been sitting there for a long time, Leila realized. But she was in no hurry to get home. She’d never talked to Marsh about any of this before—about all those ancient hurts and adolescent injustices that still lingered between them. She’d had absolutely no idea that he was attracted to her when she was a teenager. Why hadn’t he ever asked her out? She would’ve said yes in a flash. Of course, he’d have had no way of knowing that.

“I didn’t laugh very much, but surely even you could’ve given me the benefit of the doubt. I was seventeen years old, I was living in a new country with my father—whom I hardly knew—and his wife and their two children. I was suffering culture shock.” He sighed. “And I was grieving.”

Leila stared at him. “Grieving? Why?”

He stared back at her, leaning forward in the darkness. “You honestly don’t know?”

“Marsh, what are you talking about?”

“My mother. She died, and one week later I was living in America, in a suburb of New Haven with this stranger who was my father. Two weeks after that, we were on vacation on Sunrise Key. I wasn’t
aloof
when you first met me, Leila. I was numb.”

“God, Marsh. No one ever told me.” She covered her mouth with her hand, remembering all of the harsh words and dirty looks she’d sent in his direction as he’d stolen her beloved brother’s attention. “I was so terrible to you. You must’ve thought I was an awful little bitch.”

“I
did
think you were rather insensitive.” He smiled ruefully. “And I must confess the word
bitch did
cross my mind a time or two.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t realize you didn’t know about my mother. I thought everyone knew.” He laughed sadly. “It certainly explains quite a bit of your behavior. I always thought you had a rather cruel streak.”

Leila closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the top of the seat. “I’m such a jerk.”

“Leila, believe me, I’ve long since forgiven you.”

Her exposed throat looked so long and slender in the light from the corner streetlamp.

“That doesn’t make me less of a jerk.”

“Past tense,” Marsh pointed out. He had to clench his hands into fists to keep himself from touching her. “You
were
a jerk. You grew out of it. I grew out of a lot of things, too.”

“Then why do I feel so awful?” She opened her eyes and turned her head to look up at him.

“Proof you’re not a jerk. If you were a jerk, you wouldn’t feel awful, right? It’s in the past, Leila. Let it go.”

“God, you
are
nice, aren’t you? Sickeningly nice. I’m not sure I can stand it.”

She was teasing him. She was teasing, because she didn’t want him to see the sudden sheen of tears that had appeared in her eyes.

Marsh felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, as if he’d stepped off the edge of a cliff. Leila cared enough about him to cry. True, it was probably only a sisterly kind of caring, but that was certainly an improvement, considering as a teenager she’d apparently disliked him rather intensely.

Marsh did the only thing he could do. He pretended not to see the tears in her eyes. And he teased her back. “I suppose if you insist, I could start calling you Monkey-Face again. I mean, simply to achieve a kind of balance in our relationship.”

Leila laughed, and reached across the jeep to hug him.

This was it, Marsh realized. There was no way on earth he was going to be able to return Leila’s embrace without kissing her. And when he kissed her, she’d know.

“’Scuse me, folks,” a voice said, and Marsh jumped. “Oh, hey, Doc. I didn’t realize it was you.”

Liam Halliday stood outside the jeep on Marsh’s side, one hand on the edge of the vehicle’s windshield, the other hand on the canvas top as he leaned over and looked in the open door. Marsh watched the tall sheriff take in every detail—Marsh’s unbuttoned shirt, his jacket and tie and medical bag in the back, Leila’s long arms and legs, her blond curls and pretty face.

“Ma’am.” The sheriff nodded at Leila and touched his cowboy hat briefly. He smiled at her and reluctantly looked back at Marsh. “Havin’ engine trouble, Doc? Can I help give you a push off the main drag here, and into the post office parking lot?”

The man’s eyes kept returning to Leila. “Well, no.” Marsh studied Halliday’s face, trying to figure out what Leila saw when she looked at the sheriff. “Actually, the engine’s fine. We were just having a chat.”

Halliday had jet black hair that curled out from under the wide brim of his hat. One lock fell across his forehead, but it wasn’t long enough to get into his eyes. Self-consciously, Marsh pushed his own brown hair off his face.

Halliday’s eyes were brown, but darker than Marsh’s. They were rich, deep, chocolate brown, while Marsh’s were only the color of Tangled Neck Creek after a heavy rain, when the water was thick with mud and muck.

It was easy to overlook the fact that Halliday’s eyes were bloodshot—no doubt from over indulging at the Rustler’s Hideout the night before.

Leila reached across Marsh, holding out her hand for the sheriff to shake. “I’m Leila Hunt,” she introduced herself with one of her more dazzling smiles. At least Halliday seemed dazzled, Marsh thought sourly.

“Liam Halliday,” Halliday drawled, taking her hand and holding on to it much, much too long. “You related to Simon Hunt by any chance?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Have we met before?” Halliday asked. It wasn’t a come-on, Marsh realized. There was honest puzzlement in the man’s eyes. There were probably quite a few people a hard drinker like Halliday couldn’t remember meeting.

“I’m not sure,” Leila admitted.

Their clasped hands were inches away from Marsh’s face, and he cleared his throat. Leila tugged her hand free.

“Well now.” Halliday straightened up. “There’s no parkin’ so close to the corner, Doc.” He grinned and winked at Marsh. “And particularly not in the middle of the road. I’m gonna have to ask you to move on. Or pull into the parkin’ lot ’round the corner if you want to get friendly.”

Leila blushed. “We were
talking.
That’s all.”

Marsh looked at her, eyebrow raised. She’d certainly been quick to make sure the sheriff knew there was nothing between them. Leila glanced at Marsh but quickly looked away, as if somehow he was the one who’d embarrassed her.

“Well, then, I beg your pardon,” Halliday said. “Pull around the corner if you want to do some more…talkin’.” He touched his hat and smiled at Leila again. “A pleasure meetin’ you, Leila Hunt. See ya, Doc.”

As Halliday sauntered back to where his police car was parked underneath the streetlight, Leila shook her head. “I can’t believe Frankie won’t go out with him. He’s adorable.”

“He’s particularly adorable after he’s spent the night in his own drunk tank,” Marsh said dryly.

“Yeah, Frankie said he has the tendency to party.” Her eyes followed Halliday. She watched as he reached into the front window of his car and pulled out the radio’s microphone. “But she didn’t tell me how amazingly good-looking he is. Ouch.”

Ouch was right. “Yes, but does he look good while wearing only his underwear?” Marsh mused.

Leila laughed. “Probably not as good as you. Although…” Her eyes grew distant, dreamy. “Marsh, do you think he was the one?”

“No.”

She looked at him in surprise. “How can you be so sure?”

“Do you really think Halliday might be your ninja?” Marsh countered. “I mean,
really
?”

She was watching the sheriff again. Was this jealousy he was feeling? Yes, this was definitely jealousy, and it was far worse than the twinges he’d felt regarding Elliot. Elliot wasn’t really a threat, despite Leila’s talk of marrying the man. She might be thinking about marrying Elliot, but she clearly wasn’t attracted to him, not like this.

Watching Leila gaze all starry-eyed at Halliday was dreadful. Marsh wanted to wring the sheriff’s red neck, simply because the man existed.

“I honestly don’t know. What if he
is
my ninja?”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Marsh said, a touch nastily. “This is your big chance. Go and find out. Go and kiss him, why don’t you? I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to oblige.” The way Halliday had been looking at Leila, it was more than clear that the man would be willing to let her run a series of test kisses on him.

Leila unbuckled her seat belt and slipped out of the jeep.

“Where are you going?” Marsh asked in surprise.

“You’re right. This
is
my big chance. I’m going to talk to him. Pull into the post office parking lot. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

“Leila, you can’t be serious.
I
wasn’t.” But she was already walking toward the sheriff and didn’t hear him.

He cursed under his breath as he watched them. The man already clearly thought that Leila was pretty. But there was so much more to her than her beautiful face and near-perfect body. She was smart and friendly and funny and warm. She was special. Even a damn fool like Liam Halliday would figure that out in a matter of seconds.

Halliday put away his radio microphone the second he spotted Leila walking toward him. He took off his cowboy hat and combed his fingers through his hair as he leaned against the side of his car. His long jeans-clad legs were crossed casually at the ankle.

Halliday smiled at Leila, and Leila smiled back, and Marsh knew that he couldn’t, absolutely
couldn’t
sit there and watch. He put the jeep into first gear and pulled around the corner into the parking lot in front of the post office. But, from where he parked, he could still see Leila and Halliday in his rearview mirror, so he closed his eyes.

Dammit, why didn’t Leila smile at
him
that way?

Because she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend, nothing more than another big brother. She’d been awfully bloody quick to correct Halliday when the sheriff assumed they’d stopped at the intersection to kiss. Was the idea of kissing him really that awful?

Leila certainly hadn’t found him unappealing on New Year’s Eve, when he’d kissed her at midnight. No, she’d responded to his kisses in a way that had nearly knocked him over.

Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he should dress up as the ninja and just appear in her room some night.

But, no.

The truth was, Marsh wanted Leila to love him. Not as a friend, not as a brother, not as a romantic phantom. He wanted her to fall desperately, hopelessly, tragically in love with him. With
him,
not some mysterious ninja.

And what, pray tell, were the odds of that happening?

Marsh opened his eyes, and in the rearview mirror, in the light from the streetlamp, he saw Liam Halliday draw Leila into his arms and kiss her. It was a long kiss, a slow kiss, a deep, passionate kiss.

Leaving the keys in the ignition, Marsh got out of the jeep and walked away.

SEVEN

“S
O YOU’RE STANDING
there, in the middle of the road with the sheriff.” Simon put his feet up on the top of the railing that surrounded the deck. “Then what? What did you say? ‘Excuse me, Sheriff, would you mind giving me a kiss?’”

“Well, yeah.” Leila stood across from him, looking out through the night toward the beach. The moon was out, and it was bright enough to see that the beach was deserted. No sign of Marsh.

Simon sat forward, pulling his legs back down. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am. Simon, have you seen Marsh?”

“You told Halliday the whole story?”

“Not the
whole
story.”

Simon pointed to a chair. “Sit,” he ordered her. “I’ve
got
to hear this.”

“I’m kind of in a hurry,” Leila said. “Have you seen him?”

“Him who?”

“Marsh.”

“Marsh?”

“Your friend? The doctor? Fairly tall, English accent, brown hair…?”

Simon rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in one palm as he gazed up at her. “I know who he is. I’m just wondering why you’re so hot to find him.”

“We were supposed to go over his financial records.” Leila finally sat down across from her brother.

“He’s not here.”

She gave him a piercing look. “Would he be here if I were looking for him for another reason?” she asked.

Simon laughed. “No. Believe me, I
want
you to help him organize his accounts. I tell you, Lei, for a guy with a medical degree from Harvard, Dev absolutely stinks at math. And it doesn’t worry him. The man doesn’t care.” He shifted back in his seat. “So. Tell me about Halliday. What did you say, what did he say? I want details.”

Leila closed her eyes. “I walked up to him and said, ‘You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we
did
meet.’ See, he’d asked me earlier if we’d met before. Then I asked him if he wore a ninja costume to your party, which of course I already knew.”

“Brilliant move. Testing him to see if he was going to tell the truth or lie most heinously.”

“No, you idiot,” Leila said lightly. “He’s the town sheriff. I didn’t expect him to lie. I needed to have something to talk about, to break the ice, so to speak, so I asked him about his costume.”

“Of course. You broke the ice. He said, yes, he was a ninja. Then what?”

“I told him I had been wearing a Cinderella costume, and I asked him if he happened to remember if I was the person he’d kissed at midnight.”

Simon laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I can’t believe you actually had the nerve to ask him that. Go on. What’d he say?”

“Well…” Leila began. “This is where it got a little tricky. Apparently Liam wasn’t a designated driver that night, and he’d had a little too much to drink—”

“His usual truckload of whiskey and beer,” Simon interjected. “What else is new?”

“The end result being, much to poor Liam’s embarrassment, that he doesn’t remember exactly
what
he was doing at midnight. The evening all became one rather out-of-focus blur for him.”

“He admitted that?”

“He did, although he spent about ten minutes trying to convince me—and himself, it seems—that this doesn’t happen to him all the time. He said it was New Year’s Eve and he let himself cut a little more loose than usual.”

“Hmm,” Simon said.

“Yeah.”

“Then what?”

“Then we stood there for a few more minutes and both tried not to be embarrassed as he denied he has a drinking problem. He’s never missed a day of work, he never touches the stuff when he’s on duty, he only drinks to relax, blah, blah, blah. I heard it all. Every excuse in the book.”

Leila took a deep breath, looking up at the moon and the stars in the inky blackness of the night sky. “So then,” she continued, “when he stopped to take a breath, I interrupted him and told him about the man who had kissed me at midnight—who incidentally, certainly didn’t
act
as if he were blind, stinking drunk.”

“You
told
him? About the kiss?”

“Kisses. Plural. I gave him the G-rated version.” Leila glanced ruefully in Simon’s direction. “I told him I was looking for this man, that I wanted to find out who he was. I didn’t go into detail as to why.”

“Good thinking.”

“Then I asked him if he would mind kissing me.”

Simon nodded. “So what did you do when he said no?”

Leila tried to swat her brother on the top of the head with the palm of her hand.

“I was kidding.” He ducked out of the way. “So he kissed you. Was he the guy you’re looking for? Did you see fireworks, et cetera and so on?”

“No.” Leila stared back at the stars. “No fireworks. Definitely not.” She sighed. “And then, when I got back to the jeep, Marsh was gone.”

Simon sat up. “
Marsh
was there?
With
you? While you were kissing Halliday?!”

Leila glanced over at him. “We were driving back from the Beauchamps’. I
thought
we were heading back here to have dinner and then go over Marsh’s books. But he just disappeared. He left the keys in the jeep. I waited for a while, but he never came back. So I drove home. You’re sure he’s not here?”

“Oh, Leila. Oh, no.” Simon buried his face in his hands. “No, he’s not here. I should go look for him.” He glanced at his watch. “But I’ve got a date in about fifteen minutes.”

“Who’s the unlucky woman?” Leila asked.

“You wound me,” Simon said. “Her name’s Amanda. She’s the new waitress over at the Pier.”

“Poor thing. Be gentle when you break her heart.” Leila stood up. “If you see Marsh, tell him I’m looking for him. You can also tell him that one way or another, I
will
see his books. He’s not going to get away from me this easily.”

The sound of the telephone ringing woke Leila from a deep sleep.

“’Lo?” she rasped into the phone, pushing her hair out of her eyes, and reaching over to turn on the bedside table lamp.

“Leila?”

“Yeah.” She squinted at the clock in the sudden brightness. “Frankie? Is something wrong? It’s two-thirty in the morning.”

“You got
that
right,” Frankie drawled. “I’m working the late shift for the cab company, and I got a call to pick up a customer over at the Rustler’s Hideout, ’cause it’s closing time. I got here a few minutes ago, and guess who that customer turned out to be?”

“Simon?”

“Good guess, but no cigar. You’re on the right track though. Think a little thinner, a little shorter, brown hair instead of blond—”

“Marshall?”

“Bingo. Bartender says he’s been here for hours. He doesn’t really seem juiced, but he says he wants me to drive him home.”

“Well, bring him on over.” Leila swung her legs out of bed. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee and—”

“
His
home,” Frankie interrupted. “He wants me to drive him over to his burned-out house on the point, Leila.”

Leila stood up, carrying the telephone with her as she went to her bureau and pulled out a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and a clean pair of underwear.

“I wasn’t sure what to do,” Frankie continued as Leila pulled her nightie over her head and got dressed. “I mean, I can’t drive him up there and just
leave
him. The house is wrecked. It’s dangerous to go near it in broad daylight, let alone the middle of the night. And that’s not even taking into consideration the man’s blood-alcohol level. But he’s insisting that’s where he wants to go.”

“I’ll wake up Simon and we’ll meet you up at the point. Drive slowly, though. It’s going to take us a few minutes to get over there.”

Frankie sighed with relief. “Thanks, Leila. Sorry I had to wake you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Leila hung up the phone and slipped her sneakers onto her feet.

Out in the hallway, the house was dark.

She walked softly down the hall toward Simon’s room. His door was ajar, and she pushed it the rest of the way open. Moonlight streamed in through the windows onto his made-up bed.

Her brother wasn’t home. And if she knew Simon, he probably wouldn’t return for a while. Like not until sometime tomorrow afternoon.

She was going to have to do this alone.

Leila arrived at Marsh’s house before the taxi. She pulled into the driveway and parked, then got out of the jeep to look at the ruins of the house in the moonlight.

It was in awful shape. Apparently, the house had burned for quite some time before anyone saw the smoke and sounded the fire alarm. The roof was gone, and three of the outer walls had caved in. The brick chimney stood alone, listing slightly to one side. It wouldn’t take much more than a strong wind off the ocean to send the bricks tumbling down on top of the pile of ashes and charred lumber that used to be Marsh’s house.

Strips of yellow police tape, printed with bold black letters, warned Danger, Keep Out! They’d been placed as a kind of barrier, encircling the ruined building. They had long since sagged and torn, and now flapped rather uselessly in the cool night breeze.

Leila heard the sound of a car engine and turned to see headlights approaching. She walked down the drive toward the taxi as it pulled up.

The inside light went on. Marsh was sitting in the front seat. He gave Frankie the fare, then opened the door.

He clearly wasn’t expecting to see Leila standing there. A wide range of emotions crossed his face, including pleasure and surprise before he settled on wariness.

“Well.” He climbed carefully out of the taxi and closed the door behind him. “My word. This is a rather interesting surprise.”

Frankie leaned across the front seat so she could see Leila. “I’ve got to run. I’ve got another fare to pick up. Must be the full moon. You gonna be all right?”

“Everything’s under control,” Leila said with far more confidence than she felt. In fact, the mere sight of Marsh—in particular that flash of uninhibited pleasure that had lit his eyes when he’d first spotted her—made her feel as if she were careening off the side of a mountain.

“Ah, I’m so glad to hear that,” Marsh said. “I do hate it when things get out of control.”

“You want me to swing past here later?” Frankie called.

“No, that’s okay,” Leila told her. “Go on. We’ll be okay.”

Marsh turned to watch the taxi slowly roll down the street, leaving them in the moonlight. The moon was nearly full, and so bright that it cast shadows around them.

Marsh still wore the white shirt and navy blue pants he’d changed back into at the Beauchamps’. At the time, his shirt had hung open, but now it was neatly buttoned and tucked into the waist of his pants.

He didn’t look like a man who’d spent the past seven hours in a bar.

His hair was messy, but that was nothing new. His hair was nearly always messy. As he turned and caught Leila watching him, he self-consciously pushed it back, out of his eyes.

“So. You’ve come to rescue me, have you?”

Now that she could see his eyes, Leila wished that he hadn’t pushed his hair back. He was watching her much too intently, hungrily even. In the moonlight, she could see heat in his eyes, heat from desire. Desire. He wasn’t trying to hide it from her. In fact, she could have sworn that he stepped closer, tilting his head slightly, so that she would have a better chance to see it there in his eyes.

“That depends.” Leila wet her suddenly dry lips. “Do you need rescuing?”

“More than you would believe.”

Leila’s pulse kicked up higher as she stared at him, trapped by the magnetic pull of his eyes. Oh, my God. Everything about him—the way he was standing, his body language, his smile, that unmistakable glint in his eyes—said “come and get me.”

If she were eighteen again, she would’ve leapt at the chance to play this game with him. But she wasn’t eighteen anymore. And games usually ended with a winner and a loser. One of them was bound to end up hurt, and it would probably be her. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d spent the entire night drinking in order to lose his inhibitions.

Leila crossed her arms. “Oh, I’d believe you need rescuing. While you were out, I took the opportunity to look at your financial records.”