Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
“Your point is taken.” Marsh looked back at the mare. “Love, do me a favor—”
Leila laughed. Her eyes were bright with tears, Marsh realized.
“What, help you get yourself killed?” She shook her head, her blond curls bouncing in emphasis. “No, thank you.”
“Fine, then do Tim a favor and take him back up to the house.” He stepped closer to Leila and spoke swiftly and softly so only she could hear him. “The foal’s already dead, has been for quite some time. He’s tangled in the umbilical cord and twisted around backward. I can save the mare, but it’s not going to be a pretty sight.”
They’d arrived too late. Leila could see compassion and regret in the warmth of Marsh’s eyes. Strange, she’d always thought of him as emotionless, but now, when she looked closely, rarely a moment passed when she didn’t see
something
stirring in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She encircled Marsh’s waist with her arms and held him tightly. She closed her eyes, burying her face in the warmth of his shoulder. “Be careful. You better be careful.”
She felt him nod. “I will,” he whispered.
It was unreal. Leila—lovely, vibrant, amazing Leila—was in his arms again, but he couldn’t kiss her. Not with young Tim looking on. Not with the mare’s life hanging in the balance. Damn his poor timing anyway.
Leila lifted her head. Marsh’s hair was in his eyes again, so she pushed it off his face one last time, running her fingers down the back of his head to his neck. Briefly she squeezed his shoulder. “Promise?”
The touch of her hand conveyed the warmth and strength of her feelings for him—feelings of friendship. Marsh turned away, suddenly and painfully aware that her earlier concern had been that of a friend, not a lover.
“Absolutely,” he managed.
Dear Lord, he was in love with a woman who saw him as nothing more than an unrelated sibling, someone to squabble and argue with, someone to offer care and support to in times of need.
“Go on. Get Tim out of here.”
He saw Leila as his hope, his future. It was true, the idea of a lasting relationship scared him to death, but without her, he knew that there’d be nothing but emptiness in his life.
Yet she saw him only as a brother.
Splendid.
Perhaps he
needed
a good swift kick in the head.
Marsh was quiet as he drove the jeep down the Beauchamps’ dirt driveway.
“You did a good job,” Leila said.
“Hmm.” Marsh’s eyes didn’t leave the pitted road. The jeep’s headlights bounced as the wheels hit a pothole he couldn’t avoid.
“You told me yourself there was no way you could have helped that foal, that he’d died before his mother even went into labor. And Kevin Beauchamp sure seemed grateful that you managed to save the mare.”
Timothy’s parents had arrived from the mainland as Marsh was cleaning up in the barn.
“Kevin was counting on the money from the future sale of that foal.” Marsh pulled out onto the main road. “I don’t know what he’s going to do now.”
“Speaking of money.” Leila turned toward him.
He glanced warily at her, his face lit by the light from the dashboard.
“How can Kevin Beauchamp afford to pay you?”
“Ah, thank God,” Marsh said. “I was afraid you were going to ask a more difficult question.”
“I’ll bet Kevin considers this one a pretty difficult question.” Leila watched him steadily.
Her blond hair seemed almost unearthly in the darkness, gleaming in the light from the oncoming headlights. Marsh could still remember exactly how soft her hair had felt against his chin when she put her arms around him. The ache of longing that memory set off caught him by surprise. It stabbed him in the chest, sharp and hot. It took him a few seconds before he regained his breath.
“Actually,” he replied, trying hard to make his voice calm and even, “it’s a simple question because it’s got a simple answer. He can’t afford to pay me.”
“Can’t.”
Marsh glanced at Leila again. She didn’t seem surprised or even upset. Just resigned.
With no other cars approaching them, he could barely see her face in the soft glow from the dashboard. She looked mysterious and tantalizingly exotic. That fierce longing came back and he clenched his teeth, trying to fight it.
He didn’t even know what this feeling meant, dammit. Well, okay, he knew what part of it meant. Part of it was sexual. He wanted her. There was no doubt about that. He’d wanted to make love to Leila since the summer she turned eighteen. Before that even, God help him. But there was more to this intense longing than sex.
Possession. He felt possessive. He wanted to own this woman in a very basic, almost primitive way—although, good grief, he could just imagine Leila’s cries of outrage if he ever, ever tried to articulate that feeling.
Protection. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to hold her close after their passion subsided and surround her with the warmth of his love.
Perfection. He wanted to feel forever this odd sensation he felt when Leila smiled into his eyes. It was more than happiness and bigger than mere satisfaction. It was the feeling that finally,
finally
he was completely whole. And he wanted to wake up every morning whistling because he knew that Leila would be smiling at him today. Today and tomorrow and the next day and the next.
“So he’ll just never pay you?” Leila asked. “You’ll just swallow the expenses of the medical supplies you used tonight, not to mention your time?”
“After they slaughter their hogs, the Beauchamps will give me a year’s supply of pork,” Marsh explained. He couldn’t look at her again…he didn’t dare. This overpowering feeling just might run them both off the road. “In lieu of payment.”
“Pork.”
“And jam,” Marsh added. “Kelly Beauchamp makes the tastiest raspberry jam I’ve ever—”
“You’re a vegetarian,” Leila said. “What could you possibly do with a year’s supply of
pork?
”
“Well, obviously
I
don’t eat it.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes. He wished she’d just yell at him and get it over with. He could handle that better than this strange quietness. At least if she yelled, he’d know how to respond. At least that way he could measure her anger. “I give the pork to the Hopkins family. They live out on the point, about a mile past my house—I mean, where my house was.”
“The Hopkinses. Have they lived on Sunrise Key long?” Leila asked.
“Since you were in high school. It’s a big family. Five kids, all boys? They were quite a bit younger than you.”
“I don’t remember them,” Leila admitted.
“They don’t exactly run with the yacht club set,” Marsh said dryly. “Ron’s on disability right now, and with five teenagers, they could always use a year’s supply of pork. Of course, it won’t last them anywhere close to a year.”
Leila was silent, looking at the darkness outside the jeep. “God, Marsh, I had no idea you were so…” She searched for the right word.
Marsh couldn’t guess what she was going to say. So stupid? So financially lame? So utterly, hopelessly in love with her?
“So incredibly perfect?” he suggested, pulling up to the stop sign at the intersection of Ocean Avenue and Main Street. “So dazzlingly handsome even when my clothes cover my underwear?”
She looked at him. In the dim light from the streetlamp on the corner, her eyes looked the purplish-gray color of the sky before a thunderstorm—dark and mysterious with more than a hint of danger. It wouldn’t take much to lose himself in those eyes. Marsh pulled his gaze away, only to find himself staring at her lips. God, but he wanted to kiss her.
“I had no idea you were so nice,” she said.
It took a full three seconds for her words to register.
Nice?
Did she say
nice?
Wait a minute, if she hadn’t thought that he was nice before this, then what
had
she thought?
“I didn’t realize you were so charitable.”
“It’s not charity,” he said. If she didn’t think that he was nice, then did she used to think that he was
not
nice? “Ron Hopkins would have a heart attack if he thought I was giving him charity. We trade. They have a huge garden. They keep me in zucchini and watermelon all season long.”
“Most people wouldn’t consider a year’s supply of pork a fair trade for some measly fruit and vegetables.”
“Most people aren’t vegetarians, and therefore underrate the value of fruits and vegetables,” Marsh pointed out. There was no traffic on either Main Street or Ocean Avenue. He put the jeep into neutral, and turned slightly to face her. “Look, Leila, if you had no idea that I was nice—”
“I had no idea you were so neighborly. What happened?”
“It must be contagious.” Obviously she hadn’t thought of him as friendly before this, either. “The people on the key look out for each other. You know how it works, you used to live here. The Hopkins kids weed old Mrs. Milton’s garden. And Mrs. Milton always bakes an extra batch of cookies for the coffee hour after church on Sundays. Ben Sullivan uses his riding mower to cut the lawn in front of the town hall. Millie Waters always donates several cases of soda to the Little League to sell at their games.”
“And you provide professional medical services for free.”
“Not always for free. Some people have medical insurance. And others actually have money, believe it or not.”
“Some doctors would refuse service to the people who couldn’t pay.”
“And some doctors will rot in hell,” Marsh returned evenly. “I, for one, will go directly to heaven, through a special door marked Neighborly and Nice.”
Leila laughed. God, he loved the sound of her laughter. He loved the way her smile seemed to include the entire universe. He loved the way her eyes seemed to dance with her amusement.
“You know, I honestly believe you will. Funny, I always thought…” Her smiled faded, and she looked away, as if she were embarrassed.
“Hmmm,” Marsh said. A car drove up behind him, its headlights glaring in his rearview mirror. He reached out through the open side of the jeep and waved the driver past. “I suppose I better not press to find out the end of that sentence. It can’t be anything good.”
“I thought you were selfish and, well, self-centered,” she admitted.
“And not very nice,” he finished for her.
“I was wrong, wasn’t I?” She looked back at him.
He could have answered her any number of ways. In fact, her statement begged to be picked up and returned to her sarcastically. According to her own words, she was never wrong, and admitting otherwise certainly deserved a caustic comment.
But Marsh didn’t tease. He didn’t joke. He didn’t try in any way to mock her.
“I don’t know,” he said seriously. “There were times when I wasn’t very nice to you. But only to you.”
“Gee thanks. You know, when you and Simon were in college, you teased me mercilessly. You never let up. Half the time I was furious with you. The other half…” The other half of the time, she’d imagined herself almost in love with him. But there was no way she’d ever tell him that.
“You were always so rude to me,” Marsh said. “Right from the first day I met you and Simon. You were what? Eleven years old? You were so blond and…American. You looked at me as if I were some worthless piece of garbage that had floated in on the tide. And you were just a child. Then when you got older, when you were in high school, you were
still
rude to me. Rude, and so bloody beautiful.”
Leila stared at Marsh, but he was looking away from her, gazing out at the road ahead of them, as if he could see into the future.
“Beautiful? Right.”
“You were. And still are.”
Marshall Devlin thought that she was beautiful. Her heart was pounding so loudly, Leila was afraid he might be able to hear it.
Beautiful.
But…
She lifted one eyebrow. “So naturally you nicknamed me Monkey-Face?!”
Marsh looked at her and smiled. She could see his perfect white teeth, gleaming. “You don’t seriously think I’d’ve given you the added ammunition of knowing that I thought you were the most gorgeous creature I’d ever seen in my life. Tell me honestly, wouldn’t you have used it to tease me mercilessly in return?”
“Probably.” She studied his face in the dim streetlight. “You really thought I was pretty? Back when I was in high school?”
“I remember one year you had a microscopic pair of cutoff blue jeans that were ripped up the side. They made your legs look even longer,” Marsh mused. In the darkness his eyes looked dreamy—and
very
warm. “I spent the entire summer vacation in utter misery. You used to wear them with this little red-and-white halter top. You were so blond and tan. So perfectly American. Your smile—perfect. Your eyes—perfect. Your body—beyond perfect. I had a bloody heart attack every time you walked into the room.”
“Oh, to be seventeen again,” Leila said wistfully.
“You’re twice as beautiful now.”
Leila rolled her eyes. “And you’re obviously twice as good at slinging the b.s. I remember that my parents adored you. ‘Why can’t you be more like that nice Marshall Devlin?’” Leila mimicked her mother’s voice. “‘He’s
so
polite.’” She shook her head. “You weren’t polite, you were a liar.”
Marsh shifted in his seat. “I believe the word you’re looking for is
tactful,
not
liar.
” He raked his hair out of his eyes. “Like most American teenagers, tact never was your strong suit.”
“There’s a difference between tact and kissing my parents’ a—”
“Is
that
what you had against me?” Marsh interrupted. “Right from the start, you took an instant dislike to me. I remember the first time I came down to Sunrise Key with my father. It was Christmas, and I was miserable. If it wasn’t for Simon…or maybe it was Simon. Was it because he and I became such good friends and you felt left out? Was that why you were so horrid?”
“Yeah, probably,” Leila admitted. “At least partly. It was also because you were such a royal snob. You were so distant and, well…aloof. You never hung out with the other kids, only Simon. And I don’t remember
ever
seeing you laugh. At least not that first year.”