Kiss and Tell

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “I don’t want her to feel as if I’ve made a fool of her, or to hate me,” Marsh said quietly. “In fact, I want quite the opposite.”

  “And you think by not telling her the truth, you have a better shot at that?”

  Marsh sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. “You make it sound so bloody dishonest.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do,” Simon said.

  “Don’t tell her it was me,” Marshall answered. “Please? I’ll tell her. I promise. Just not yet.”

  Simon nodded. “You better not blow this. I don’t want some bozo for a brother-in-law.” He laughed. “At least not any bozo besides you.”

  “That’s Doctor Bozo, to you.”

  Simon grinned. “Happy New Year, by the way.”

  “Right. It’s new, anyway.”

  Leila sipped a glass of soda and watched as Simon prepared one of his stir-fried vegetables-and-tofu concoctions for dinner. He was actually a better-than-decent cook, and the tofu stuff he made always tasted very good, but Leila hated seeing it in its precooked phase—a white brick of soy protein, all pale and quivering on the cutting board.

  “What time is Elliot’s flight coming in?” Simon asked as he cut the tofu into neat little bite-sized squares.

  Leila glanced at her watch. “Eight o’clock. Two hours.”

  Simon looked up at her. “I’m surprised you didn’t call him and beg off. You know, tell him you don’t want him to come. Politely, of course.”

  Leila pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged on the kitchen chair. “Actually, I’m looking forward to seeing him.”

  Simon stopped cutting and stared at her. “You are?”

  “I lost it last night,” she admitted. “Number one, I kissed a total stranger, and number two, those kisses apparently meant nothing to this stranger, because he left the party without a single look back.” She took a deep breath. “He obviously doesn’t care about a few silly little kisses, and neither do I.”

  Simon grinned. “Is that why you carried the portable phone down to the beach this afternoon? Because you didn’t care whether or not this mystery guy was going to call you?”

  “I thought Elliot was going to call,” Leila said with great dignity. It figured that Simon would notice that she had carried the phone around all day.

  Seeing Elliot would do her good, she tried to tell herself. He was so down to earth, so…well, unromantic. But that was okay. She knew his limitations. She wouldn’t have to worry about becoming disappointed with him twenty years down the road.

  Because he was already so disappointing.

  Leila looked up at her brother as he chopped broccoli into small pieces. That last thought, although it sounded quite a bit like something Simon might say, had come from some dark, disenchanted corner of her very own mind.

  The honest truth was, Leila didn’t want to see Elliot. In fact, she was dreading his arrival. She’d spent the entire afternoon frustrated and restless, and the last thing she wanted right now was to listen to Elliot drone on and on about his latest business dealings.

  What she wanted to do was find that man who’d kissed her. And then what? Well, she’d probably start by kissing him again.

  Out in the hallway, the front door squeaked open and then shut. “Identify yourself,” Simon called cheerfully.

  “It’s only me.” Marsh carried his briefcase and doctor’s bag into the kitchen, his jacket over his arm. “Are you expecting someone else?” He glanced at Leila. “You got some sun today.”

  “You look awful,” she said.

  Marsh was positively drooping with exhaustion and heat. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends. He’d taken off his tie and was unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt as he sank down into a chair on the other side of the kitchen table. “I give you a compliment, and you tell me I look awful?”

  Leila made a face at him, then stood to pour him a glass of iced tea. “Since when is ‘You got some sun today’ considered a compliment?”

  Marsh frowned. “Is that what I said?” he mused. “Sorry.” He took the glass from Leila, and their fingers accidentally brushed. “Thanks.” He set the glass down in front of him. “I meant to say you look lovely this evening. More so, even, than you usually do.”

  He smiled, and Leila knew he was smiling at the astonishment he could see in her eyes. Since when did Marsh give her such lavish compliments?

  Simon added a variety of spices and sauces to the already sizzling stir fry. “Are you here for good, or are you going back out again?”

  Marsh took a long sip of his iced tea. “I’ve got one more trip over to the Kavanaughs’, to check on the new baby, but not till later tonight.” He took a deep breath and let it out quickly. “Good Lord, I can’t get by on two hours of sleep any longer. Remind me to go to bed before dawn tonight.”

  “Why don’t you take a nap?” Simon suggested.

  “And miss what’s-his-name’s arrival? Definitely not.”

  “Elliot,” Leila said. “He has a name, and it’s Elliot.”

  Marsh gazed across the table at Leila, who was drawing circles in the condensation from her glass. She glanced up and met his eyes, and to his surprise, she blushed and looked away. Blushed? Since when did Leila get embarrassed around him? Angry, yes. Annoyed, most likely. But embarrassed? That was strange.

  Lord, but she did look lovely tonight. Her wild array of golden curls were cut in a short cap around her face, creating a perfect frame for her eyes. And what eyes! They were a beautiful violet shade of blue Marsh had never seen before on a living, breathing human being. And those eyes could hold the warmth of the sun, dancing and sparkling with a happiness that was truly contagious. They also had the power to freeze him with one crystal, icy look. But filled with tears, laden with sadness, Leila’s eyes could bring him to his knees.

  Her smile was the same. Wide and infectious, her smile embraced everything and everyone around her, letting the entire world in on the joke. It seemed amazing to Marsh that lips so delicate and elegantly shaped could curl upward into such an unabashedly joyful smile.

  Of course, he’d always imagined that kissing Leila’s lips would be rather like kissing a fairy princess—exquisitely light and delicate. And kissing her had been exquisite, but in a different sort of way. It had been deep and rich and sensual and utterly, thoroughly soul shattering.

  One kiss, and all of the secrets he’d been hiding from himself for so long had been exposed. He loved her. He was in love with this wonderful, gorgeous, maddening woman. Yes, he was in love, and he had been for years.

  Two kisses and Marsh knew the true meaning of the word euphoria. Because she loved him, too. Leila had to love him, too. There was no way on God’s green earth she could kiss him like that and not at least feel something for him.

  But he had been wrong. She didn’t love him. She didn’t even like him. She hadn’t known whom she was kissing.

  Sitting there in Simon’s kitchen, watching Leila, Marsh finally figured out what to do.

  He had to court Leila. Slowly, carefully. He had to let her get to know him—really know him.

  Marsh had to let down all of his defenses and let her truly see him. And he had to pray to God that she would like what she saw.

  It was, quite possibly, going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. Of course, this was Leila, not some stranger he’d just met. In some ways, that made the whole thing easier. But in others, it made it infinitely harder.

  What if Marsh opened up to Leila and she rejected him? What if he told her something personal, something private, and she used it to tease him, to ridicule him? He might never recover.

  Still, he had to try to show her that the fire that sparked their frequent arguments and disagreements could be harnessed. True, their relationship tended to be volatile. They’d probably never stop quarreling entirely, they were both too sharp-tongued for that. But think how sweet making up could be. And just thinking about redirecting the heat and sparks that snapped betwee
n them—redirecting them into the bedroom—was dizzying.

  Sooner or later, Marsh was going to have to reveal that he was the man who’d kissed Leila last night at midnight. Sooner rather than later, since she was only going to be on the key for the two short weeks of her vacation.

  But two weeks were better than no weeks, and he was determined to use as much time as he had available to make Leila like him. And he would make her like him. Because she had to like him before she could fall in love with him.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that his house burning down had been some sort of signal from a higher deity. It was the end of one part of his life and the beginning of another. A new beginning. Time to rise from the ashes and make a fresh start. Take a chance.

  Across the room, the phone rang. Simon’s stir-fry was sizzling and he was cooking with both hands, but he reached out and punched a button on the telephone that was attached to the wall. “Hello?” he called. “You’re on the speaker phone. Keep it clean.”

  “Yes,” said a male voice. “I’m looking for Leila Hunt?”

  Leila leaned forward, a frown creasing her forehead. “Elliot?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” he answered.

  “This signal’s awfully clear. Are you calling from the plane?” she asked.

  There was a pause before he replied. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not, Leila.”

  Elliot wasn’t on the plane? Marsh didn’t let himself smile. At least, not outwardly. Inside, he was turning cartwheels.

  “I’m sorry,” Elliot’s voice continued, “but I’m not going to make it down this weekend after all.”

  Leila stood up, her chair scraping across the kitchen floor. “Simon, I’m going to take this in the other room.” She started out the door, then turned back. “Make sure you hang up when I pick up the extension.”

  “What, do you think we’d eavesdrop?”

  “Yes. Don’t.” With a stern look that included Marsh, Leila swept out of the room.

  As Marsh watched, Simon took three plates from the cabinet and spread them out on the kitchen counter.

  “Hello?” Leila’s voice came out of the telephone’s speaker.

  “Hey, kiddo. I’m really sorry about this—”

  “Simon, hang it up!” Leila shouted from the other room.

  Simon reached over and pushed a button. “Okay,” he shouted back.

  But Marsh could still hear Elliot’s voice over the speaker. “Simon…” he said warningly.

  “We can hear them,” Simon said with a grin, “but they can’t hear us. She’ll never know.”

  “I stand to make seven figures on this deal alone.” Elliot’s voice was tinny over the speaker. “I just can’t pass that up.”

  Marsh crossed the kitchen, gazing at the telephone as if that would shut it off. “Leila wanted privacy.”

  Simon shook his head. “Aw, you’re no fun now that you’re in love with her.”

  Marsh winced, looking quickly toward the other room. “Shh!”

  “She can’t hear us.”

  “We shouldn’t be listening,” Marsh insisted. “How do you turn this thing off?”

  “How about next weekend?” Leila’s voice asked. “Will you make it down here next weekend?”

  “Say no.” Marsh stared at the speakerphone, willing Elliot to answer with a negative. His desire to hang up the phone and give Leila privacy was forgotten. “You’re far too busy. You can’t possibly find time to visit.”

  There was a pause, then Elliot said, “I’m looking at my calendar, and I don’t know…” He sighed. “Right now, I’ve got to say no, Leila. I’m way too busy. It’s a bad time of year. But I’ll tell you what. If you can get back to New York a few days early, I promise that we can have lunch.”

  “Of all the pompous, condescending, outrageous, pompous—”

  “You already said that.” Simon carefully balanced and carried all three of the plates toward the sliding doors that led to the back deck. “Hit the kill switch on the phone, will you? It’s the button on the top left.”

  “I’ll call you in a few days,” Elliot’s voice was saying as Marsh pushed the button and the speaker clicked off.

  “He’s dreadful.” Marsh followed Simon onto the deck.

  “He’s not quite as bad as I imagined,” Simon said, “but he’s close.”

  “She’s not going to marry him,” Marsh said hotly. “I’m sorry. I simply won’t allow it.”

  “You won’t allow it?”

  Marsh turned to see Leila standing in the doorway.

  “What was that odd click I heard just as Elliot was saying good-bye?” she asked.

  Simon shrugged. “Probably just the telephone line making noises. Interference.”

  “You are such a lousy liar,” Leila said. “Why do you even bother?”

  “Dinner’s ready. Who wants wine?” Simon vanished into the kitchen.

  Leila turned to face Marsh. “And you. You’re not going to allow me to marry Elliot?”

  “Lei, I gotta agree.” Simon came back out onto the deck carrying three glasses, a bottle of white wine, and a bottle of soda. “Elliot’s…well…he’s…”

  “He’s an ass,” Marsh said flatly.

  Simon grinned, pouring a glass of wine for himself and Leila, and a glass of soda for Marsh. “Two extra days in sunny Florida in December…in exchange for lunch with Elliot. Is that supposed to be some kind of fair trade?”

  “That click was just interference on the phone line, huh?” Leila crossed her arms. “You guys listened in on that whole conversation, didn’t you?”

  Marsh shifted his weight guiltily. They had. They’d eavesdropped, fulfilling all of Leila’s dark expectations regarding her privacy—or lack of privacy—on Sunrise Key.

  But Simon just sat down and started to eat his dinner. “This is getting cold. You guys should eat.”

  Marsh knew that he should tell Leila he was sorry. They’d violated her privacy, and that was wrong. But the words that came out of his mouth were not at all apologetic. “I have to warn you. If you insist on marrying Elliot, I intend to stand up and loudly proclaim my unhappiness when the reverend says, ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace.’ And for an encore, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of there, kicking and screaming if need be.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Leila’s voice dripped with disbelief. “You’d never create such a scene.”

  “Just try me,” Marsh threatened.

  “Fine, I won’t send you an invitation.” Leila crossed her arms.

  “Oh, that will surely keep me away.”

  “Yo, guys?” Simon interjected. “Food’s getting cold.”

  “What could Leila possibly have been thinking?” Marsh said. “I mean, did she actually sit down and think, ‘Golly, I’d like to have some children. Let me see if I know any idiots I can join in a loveless marriage in order to conceive them.”

  Leila’s eyes flashed with anger. “I happen to know that Elliot’s IQ is a great deal higher than the average—”

  “Leila, I have that copy of the party’s guest list that you wanted,” Simon interrupted.

  Leila’s mouth shut as absolutely as if Simon had pressed a button and turned her off. She stared at Simon, glancing once at Marsh, as if hoping he hadn’t heard her brother’s words.

  “Guest list?” Marsh’s anger and frustration instantly evaporated. Why would Leila want a list of guests for a party that had already happened?

  “You might at least have waited until we were alone,” Leila said to Simon through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah, well, I figured both Marsh and I could help you,” Simon replied.

  “For the New Year’s party?” Marsh asked, looking from Leila to Simon. “That guest list?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me why she wants it,” Simon said. “But my guess is that she’s going to try to track down this guy who kissed her.” He grinned at Marsh. “Remember, the guy I told you about?”

  “Argh.” Leila sank into
her seat at the table and buried her face in her hands.

  “Simon,” Marsh began. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass Leila. But Simon held up his hand, stopping him.

  “Look, Lei,” Simon said. “It’s too late to pretend that Marsh doesn’t know what happened last night. I’m going to help you, right? He might as well help, too. If two heads are better than one, think of how terrific three will be.”

  “Terrific,” Leila muttered.

  “Do you really want to find this man?” Marsh asked, hardly daring to hope.

  She looked up at him. “Yes,” she admitted with a sigh. “Yes, I do. I know it sounds crazy but—”

  “That’s great,” Marsh said. “It’s not crazy, it’s great.”

  “I need to find this ninja,” Leila continued, “so that I can prove to myself he wasn’t real. I didn’t even know who he was. Whatever I felt from kissing him had to have been the result of too much champagne, or I don’t know, lust, or the phase of the moon. It just wasn’t real. I mean, I’m probably going to find him, and he’ll turn out to be someone I absolutely hate, right?”

  “So why bother going to all the trouble of tracking this bozo down?” Simon asked.

  “Ninja,” Marsh corrected him. “Not bozo.”

  Leila looked out into the starry darkness of the sky. She was quiet for several long moments. “Doubt,” she finally said. “Just the barest, smallest sliver of doubt.” She glanced back at Marsh and he saw there were actually tears in her eyes. “I just keep thinking, what if…”

  “That’s not doubt,” Marsh told her. “That’s hope. Hope that there really is one special person out there just waiting for you to find him.”

  Leila blinked back her tears. “God, I wish you were right.”

  “Are you so sure I’m not?”

  “John McGrath?” Leila read from Simon’s long, hand-scribbled list of names.

  “Cross him off, too.” Simon tipped his chair back and rested his bare feet on the highly polished antique dining room table. “I saw him with some kind of Roman toga thing on.”

  “Very original, old John is,” Marsh commented.

  “How about Paul Casella?” Leila asked.

  “Didn’t see him,” Simon said.