“Of course,” Leila said. “Now I know better, but—”
“I remember what you looked like when you were sixteen.” Marsh ran his hand down his face. She’d looked like an angel, half child, half woman, pure temptation. “Christ, Leila, you could have wound up in a ditch. You might have disappeared, for good.”
“I was a kid, Marsh. I needed freedom. I felt so suffocated and overprotected here.” Another blast of chilly air came in from the water, and Leila shivered. “That’s why I went to New York.”
“So you could be raped and murdered whenever the mood struck?” Marsh asked, reaching into the back of the jeep for the sports jacket he’d left there earlier in the evening.
“Of course not.”
“I can’t believe you tried to hitchhike off the island. If I had known, I would have wrung your little neck!”
“Simon would have beat you to it.” Leila sighed. “I can’t come back here, Marsh.”
“Yes, you can.” Marsh opened his jacket. He’d intended to wrap it around Leila’s shoulders, but she backed away, wary of his next move. Instead, he held it out to her. “You aren’t sixteen anymore, Leila.”
“Rub it in,” she muttered, taking the jacket, careful not to touch him. She slipped her arms into his jacket and closed the front.
“I’m serious.” Marsh pushed himself back onto the jeep. “You have different needs now. What you saw as nosiness or lack of privacy when you were younger will turn into neighborliness, friendliness, concern, and caring…if you let it.”
His jacket hid the bottom edge of her shorts, casting the illusion that she wore nothing underneath. It was a very nice illusion.
“You went to New York,” Marsh continued, forcing his gaze away from her long, bare legs. “You tried it out. But I don’t think the experiment worked. It sounds to me as if you don’t like it there.”
She didn’t deny it. She just stood there staring at him with her luminous, beautiful violet-blue eyes.
“Don’t go back,” Marsh whispered. “You don’t have to go back.”
Leila turned away from the hypnotic warmth of Marsh’s eyes. Her heart was pounding, and she was suddenly aware of her lack of oxygen. She laughed, because it covered her sense of unease. Was it possible that she was actually considering everything he’d said?
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Fax all my clients, let ’em know my new address and phone number?” She met Marsh’s gaze in the moonlight. “Send for all my things?”
“You could.” His gaze was hot and piercingly relentless. “You could do it tomorrow. I’d help you, Leila. You can count on me for anything.”
“Anything?” she repeated with a laugh. This whole discussion was getting out of hand. “Watch out. You may not realize what you’re offering.”
“I’m offering everything,” he said simply. He held out his hands, palms up. “Unconditionally.”
Leila crossed her arms. “Oh, really?” She hoped he didn’t hear the way his words made her heart beat faster and louder. He’d been drinking, she reminded herself. In the morning he probably wouldn’t even remember what he’d said. “Then after I move down here and tell Elliot I’m not going to marry him, you’ll volunteer to father my children?”
Marsh’s eyes turned molten. “Father your children? Help with the fun part and leave you to do the rest?” He shook his head. “But don’t misunderstand, love. It’s not because I’m averse to the fun. On the contrary. That particular activity is one that I’ve longed—rather desperately, I might add—to do with you for years and years now.”
Leila felt her face flush. He was talking about making love. He’d just admitted that he wanted desperately to make love to her. Any second now, he was going to slide off the jeep and walk over to her, and take her into his arms and…
And there was no one around to interrupt them. This time, he’d succeed. He’d kiss her and…
“It’s not the idea of having children that doesn’t appeal to me,” Marsh continued. “I would like to have a few of my own. I just don’t want them growing up without me.”
He’d kiss her, and then, God help her, they’d probably end up making love right there on the lawn above the beach, out in the moonlight, under the stars.
Because that’s what she wanted. She wanted to make love to Marsh Devlin.
And knowing that scared her to death.
Leila forced herself to turn away from the warmth in Marsh’s eyes. “Your children wouldn’t grow up without you.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the night’s silence. “Considering that we’d all be living in the same place. If I moved back to Sunrise Key, we’d all be sponging off Simon, wouldn’t we?”
She had, undoubtedly, succeeded in destroying the mood, in deflating the bubble of desire that had surrounded them both and drawn them closer and closer together.
Marsh slid off the jeep. “My word, I thought I was properly anesthetized and quite comfortably numb. Apparently I was wrong. It seems to have worn off. Or perhaps that barb had a particularly sharp point.” He pushed his hair back from his face and stood for a moment, staring at the ruins of his house. “I don’t suppose you brought along anything potent to drink?”
“No.”
“No, of course you didn’t. Pity. God, this place is a mess, isn’t it?”
Leila felt awful. She hadn’t meant for her comment to be quite that cruel. “Marsh, I’m sorry, I—”
“I changed the subject, Leila,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “That conversation was apparently going nowhere. Let’s move on, shall we? I came out here to have a look at the house, try to decide what to do.” His face was shadowy in the moonlight. “See, I gave the building inspector a call tonight. I told him to tear the place down, get the mess cleaned up. Now what I need to decide is whether or not to leave the foundation intact. Whether to rebuild or sell.”
“Sell?”
“Believe it or not, there’s actually something you don’t know.” He turned to look at her. “I received an offer for this land…an offer well above market value.”
“From Preston Seaholm.” Leila pulled Marsh’s jacket tighter around her shoulders as another cool breeze blew in from the Gulf. “I do know about it. There was a letter from him in your room.”
“So much for privacy,” Marsh muttered. “For someone who cares so much about it, you certainly don’t honor it, do you? I suppose you went through my underwear drawer while you were at it.”
“The letter was stuffed into a file marked Received,” Leila said indignantly. “It was among a pile of insurance checks…that you haven’t cashed, I might add.”
“You always do have something to add, don’t you? So what’s your advice? Let’s hear it, Leila. Should I sell or not?”
She felt like crying. All of the warmth in Marsh’s eyes was gone. He leaned back against the jeep and gazed at her with that mocking glint that was part amusement and part disdain.
“I think it would be wise to sell, particularly for what he’s offering.”
“His offer is really little more than charity,” Marsh said flatly. “It’s Seaholm’s way of helping me out of this financial bind.”
“He does get the land.”
“The same way I get watermelon and zucchini when I trade the Hopkinses for all that pork.”
“Pres Seaholm has a vested interest in keeping you here, on the key,” Leila pointed out. “You’re the only doctor in more than forty miles. Besides, if that kind of trading doesn’t bother the Hopkinses, why should it bother you? You said it yourself. That’s just the way things work down here. People look after each other. Is it so terrible if someone does a little looking after you?”
“You didn’t like it when people looked out for you.” Marsh stared at the burned shell that was once his house, his home. “I like this particular view of the ocean. I don’t want to sell.” He looked at Leila. “I’ve decided. I’m going to rebuild.” He smiled. “There. That was easy, wasn’t it?”
“Even with those insurance checks I found, you’re still forty-four thousand dollars short,” Leila warned him. “But if you want, I can help you organize your financial records. You’ll stand a better shot at getting a bank loan and—”
“I can rebuild without borrowing any money from the bank,” Marsh said.
“What, you’re planning to win the lottery?” Leila crossed her arms.
“Sort of.” Marsh went around to the passenger side of the jeep. “Drive me back to Simon’s. It’s time for me to sponge off the bastard a bit more.”
Leila sighed with exasperation. “Marsh, I don’t know why I said that.”
“Forget about it.” He climbed into the jeep. “Come on, the sooner we get back, the less hellish I’ll feel in the morning.”
But she did know why she’d said such a cruel thing to Marsh.
She had been terrified.
Marsh had been talking about making love to her. He’d as much as confessed that he wanted her, desperately. That word still echoed in her head. Desperately. Desperately…
And Leila wanted him, too. She wanted him to make love to her. She wanted it badly, desperately. Desperately…Forget about the ninja. Forget about Elliot. Forget about her job as an accountant back in New York City. Forget about everything but Marsh and the way he could make her heart pound with just a look and a smile.
It was terrible, it was awful, but it was undeniable.
Leila had it bad for Marshall Devlin.
EIGHT
THE LIFEGUARD CHAIR stood like a sentinel on the white sandy expanse of the town beach. The afternoon was hot and still, and Hayden Young, the lifeguard, opened the colorful beach umbrella that was attached to the back of his chair.
Leila and Frankie sat in their beach chairs and tried not to stare, at least not too obviously.
Hayden was everything Frankie had said he was. Blond, tanned, and muscular. As she strolled casually past the lifeguard chair, Leila had even had a glimpse of the electric blue eyes he normally kept carefully hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.
He was almost laughably gorgeous.
His hair was long and thick, and he wore it back in a ponytail. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones were chiseled, and his nose was perfect, just the right size for his face.
“So this is what’s coming out of the university’s philosophy program these days,” Leila mused, spreading more sunblock on the tops of her feet and that one badly sunburned place she had along the edge of her bathing suit. Lord, it was hot today. She wished she had an umbrella to shade herself, too.
“He’s also a trained EMT,” Frankie reminded her. “You know, he’s teaching a CPR course down in the church basement over the next four Monday nights. I tried to sign up. I figured in my line of work, CPR might be good to know. But apparently, the class was filled to capacity weeks ago.”
Leila grinned. “You could always ask him for private lessons.”
“Or you could. You’re the one who wants to kiss him.”
They watched as several little children approached the lifeguard chair carrying a yellow bucket. They talked to Hayden, craning their necks, pointing inside the bucket. Hayden climbed down from his perch and crouched in the sand to talk to the children.
“My God, he’s nice to kids, too,” Leila said. “Tell me, honestly, what would you do with a guy who’s that good-looking? Everywhere you went, you’d have a swarm of women following. Or at least looking.”
“And drooling,” Frankie added. “Definitely drooling. It would get very soggy.”
“Who needs it?” Leila asked. “Not me.”
“Me neither.”
Hayden Young ruffled one of the boys’ hair and waved good-bye as the children ran off. He climbed up the ladder to his chair, his muscles rippling in the sunshine.
“On the other hand…” Frankie said.
“Mmm, I know what you mean.”
They lapsed into silence, and Leila closed her eyes. Her ninja hadn’t been Liam Halliday or Preston Seaholm. Hayden Young was last on her list of suspects, except for good old married Robert Earle in Atlanta. But what if it hadn’t been Earle either? That would mean that somewhere on Sunrise Key there was another ninja.
But who could it be?
Leila tried to remember the night of Simon’s party, tried to remember the man who had silently asked her to dance, who hadn’t taken no for an answer.
Hayden Young’s shoulders were awfully broad. Had her ninja really had shoulders like that?
Try as she might, she couldn’t conjure up any clear memory of her mystery man. Except for those kisses. If he kissed her again, she’d recognize him, that was for sure. But as far as his height and weight and the width of his shoulders went, she couldn’t remember a thing.
Instead, a picture of Marsh, sitting on the hood of the jeep, gazing at her in the moonlight, kept popping into her head.
He’d left the house before she even woke up this morning. Simon told her that Marsh had scheduled appointments all day; he wouldn’t be back until nearly seven o’clock.
Marsh must feel like hell. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, in fact he barely ever touched the stuff. He’d told her years before that he stopped drinking after he went to medical school and found out exactly what alcohol did to the human body. He’d become a vegetarian at about the same time.
“What’s your plan for Hayden Young?” Frankie asked. “Are you gonna go for the direct approach again? The way you did with the sheriff?”
“I don’t know. Hey, Frankie?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think of Marsh Devlin?” She opened her eyes and looked at her friend.
Frankie was wearing sunglasses, so Leila couldn’t see her eyes, but her eyebrows were definitely raised.
“The accent’s to die for, and he’s really good-looking. Different from the beach boy,” she added, gesturing toward Hayden with her chin, “but still handsome.” She shrugged. “He’s got nice hands, too. Remember the time I thought I broke my ankle? Marsh checked it out. It hurt like hell, but it would’ve been a lot worse if he hadn’t been so gentle. He seems nice. He’s always so polite….”
Leila sat forward. “But?”
“He’s so reserved.” Frankie smiled apologetically. “I don’t know, Lei, it’s hard for me to be objective because he’s definitely not my type of guy.” She grinned. “Of course, I haven’t quite figured out yet who my type of guy is. But Marsh, he’s too chilly, you know? Like if you get too close, you might freeze to death.”
Leila shook her head. “I used to think that, too. But lately, when I’m around him I definitely don’t feel as if I’m going to freeze to death.”
“Using my superior observational skills as a private detective, I’d say you sound like you’d rather kiss Marsh Devlin than Hayden Young.”
“Isn’t that weird?” Leila said. “Marsh and I have done nothing but fight for years, and now, all of a sudden, I feel as if there’s some bizarre magnet pulling me toward him. I’ve been really talking with him, too. I’ve been finding out things about him that I never knew before. He’s not at all chilly, not even close. He’s warm and kind and wonderfully sweet…and I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”
Frankie grinned. “Do you remember that summer back in high school when you had a crush on Alan Johnson?”
Leila shook her head. “This isn’t a crush.”
“I know,” Frankie said. “Back then you sounded like an idiot, going on and on for hours about how Alan wore his hair and the shape of his chin, and whether or not his hitting his car horn whenever he drove past you on Main Street meant something. What you’re saying now sounds very different to me.”
Leila closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warm sunshine. It sounded different because it was different. What she felt about Marsh wasn’t a schoolgirl crush. It was more than that. It was bigger. It was…No, she couldn’t even bring herself to think the L-word.
Falling in love wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it was something she’
d always hoped would happen to her. But falling in love with Marshall Devlin was the last thing she wanted to do.
Marsh wanted her to move back to Sunrise Key, to be reabsorbed by the small-town life that she’d worked so hard to leave behind. But she prided herself on her independence. If she came back, she’d be treated like a child again. She’d suffocate from the lack of privacy.
Yet…
Leila opened her eyes and glanced over at her friend. Frankie wasn’t suffocating. Frankie had lived on Sunrise Key all her life, but she didn’t feel penned in or trapped by the constant gossiping and prevalent nosiness. In fact, she joined in, happily keeping track of the island’s goings-on.
But they were two different people, with two different sets of priorities.
Leila sighed, closing her eyes again and letting her thoughts drift. They drifted directly to Marsh, but she was too sleepy to fight it. She fell asleep, dreaming about the way he wore his hair and the shape of his chin—and the way he talked to her, sharing his secrets with her, sharing and showing her the warmth of his soul.
“Excuse me, miss.”
The voice was deep and resonant and very male, but Leila was too tired to open her eyes. Besides, whoever he was, he probably wasn’t talking to her. He was probably talking to someone else farther down the beach, and the wind was probably carrying his voice, making him sound as if he were standing right next to her.
“Miss, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been asleep for nearly two hours,” the voice said, “and the sun’s way too hot to stay in one position like this and…Hey, aren’t you Simon Hunt’s sister?”
He was talking to her. Because as far as Leila knew, Simon didn’t have any other sisters. She opened her eyes.
It was Hayden Young, suspected ninja and hunk lifeguard—live and in person and standing directly in front of her.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded rusty from sleep, and she cleared her throat. She glanced over to where Frankie’s chair had been, but the beach was empty. She vaguely remembered Frankie telling her good-bye, that it was time for her to go to work. “Simon’s my brother. My name’s Leila.”
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