Kiss and Tell

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “He brought a date,” Marsh volunteered. “A young woman he’s been seeing for the past few months, lives on the mainland. They came as Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Simon added. “Big plastic submachine guns.”

  “That was Paul.”

  Leila crossed Paul’s name off.

  “Preston Seaholm?”

  Simon and Marsh looked at each other blankly.

  “Was he even at the party?” Marsh asked.

  “Dunno,” Simon responded. “I didn’t see him.”

  “Frankie said she saw his car,” Leila said.

  “I guess that makes him a suspect,” Simon said. “Seaholm’s tall enough, right?”

  Leila nodded. “But remember, I don’t know exactly how tall the ninja was. I just had this sensation that he was taller than me.”

  “And that he was strong,” Marsh reminded her. Simon coughed.

  “And that he carries a beeper,” Leila added. “Does Pres Seaholm have a beeper?”

  “I don’t know,” Simon said. “But that wouldn’t be too hard to find out.”

  Marsh looked over Leila’s shoulder, quickly skimming through the list of names. His own name was up at the top of the page. Leila had apparently skipped him. He wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or relieved. “Who’s next? Keith Banner? I don’t remember seeing him at the party.”

  “Same here,” Simon said. “And I know he’s got a beeper.”

  “Nope.” Leila crossed Keith’s name off the list. “It’s not Keith.”

  “Did you see him, then?” Marsh asked.

  “Nope.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Simon asked.

  Leila carefully laid her pen down on the table. “If you must know, I’ve had the dubious honor of being kissed by Keith Banner before. He’s an octopus. My ninja was not.”

  “Octopus?” echoed Marsh, frowning slightly.

  “Eight hands,” Simon explained.

  “Oh,” Marsh said. “Right. Of course. Octopus.”

  “My ninja was a gentleman.”

  “Your ninja.” Simon lifted his eyebrows as he glanced at Marsh.

  “There were three other ninjas at the party,” Leila pointed out. “I don’t want to get mine confused with the others. Sean Green. How about Sean Green?”

  She looked at Simon and he smiled happily back at her. He was actually enjoying himself, the wretch.

  “Sean came as Dracula.” Simon watched as Leila crossed that name off the list.

  “The final name is—drum roll please!—Liam Halliday,” Marsh announced. “The esteemed sheriff of Sunrise Key. I, for one, didn’t see him last night.”

  “Neither did I,” Simon said. “But isn’t he way too tall?”

  “He is rather tall,” Marsh agreed.

  “I’m going to include him among the suspects anyway,” Leila decided, “because although I don’t remember my ninja being extremely tall, I don’t remember him not being extremely tall.”

  “So, how many does that give us?” Simon asked.

  “Six.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Hayden Young, Robert Earle, Alan Lanigan, Bruce Kimble, Preston Seaholm, and Liam Halliday. Except for Robert Earle, whom we know nothing about, they’re all single, they all RSVP’d they’d be coming, and they all possibly carry a beeper.”

  “Are you sure you got everybody?” Simon asked.

  Leila flipped through the pages, scanning the list of names.

  Marsh. She’d missed Marsh.

  Was it possible?

  She glanced over her shoulder to find him watching her. One elegant eyebrow rose slightly as he evenly returned her gaze, and she turned away. No. No way. She just couldn’t see Marsh kissing her the way that ninja had kissed her. Those kisses had been pure rocket fuel, relentlessly combustible and unrestrained. That was hardly Marsh’s style. She could imagine Marsh kissing her carefully, sweetly, without managing to mess up her hair or even smear her lipstick.

  “Now what?” Marsh asked. “Do you intend to line them all up and kiss them, then?”

  Leila twisted her head to look up at him again. “Line them up, no. Kiss them, yes.”

  “You’re kidding,” Simon said flatly.

  “How else am I going to prove to myself that what happened last night was just an aberration or a fluke?”

  Simon exchanged another look with Marsh.

  “What if it wasn’t?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Leila admitted. “I haven’t really considered that possibility.”

  “You better,” Simon said. “You better be ready for anything. What if this guy is Mr. Wonderful?”

  “That’s unlikely.”

  “Assuming he’s Mr. Wonderful is reaching a bit,” Marsh interjected. “I mean, ‘Mr. Wonderful’ is expecting too much, don’t you think?”

  “What if he is?” Simon persisted.

  “First things first, all right?” Leila said. “And first I’ve got to narrow this list down. There were only four ninjas at the party. Only four of these six guys could be real suspects.”

  “What are you going to do?” Simon asked. He pulled his feet off the table and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he studied his sister’s face. “Call them up and ask what they wore to the party?”

  Leila shook her head. “No. I’m going to hire Frankie. She’s a private investigator.”

  Simon hooted with laughter. “Frankie? Get real, Lei. What did she do, get a fedora and a trenchcoat from the Private Eye Store? And now she thinks she’s a real PI?”

  “She got her license, Simon. You told me that yourself.”

  “I could get a piece of paper that says I’m president of the United States,” Simon retorted. “That doesn’t make it true.”

  “She did find Becca Tennison’s retainer,” Marsh pointed out.

  “Sherlock Holmes is shaking in his shoes,” Simon said.

  “Everybody has to start somewhere.” Leila stood up and stretched. “Do you remember how everyone scoffed when you decided to become an art and antiques dealer?”

  “Yes. And I also remember that Francine Paresky scoffed particularly loudly. It’s payback time.”

  “Speaking of payback time,” Leila said, “you guys owe me an apology for eavesdropping on my conversation with Elliot.”

  “I am sorry,” Marsh murmured.

  “I’m not.” Simon leaned back in his chair. “And I still think the guy’s a jerk for standing you up this weekend. He said he was coming down here with you. He shouldn’t have let business get in his way.”

  “The deal he’s working on is worth a million dollars.” Leila crossed her arms. “If you can sit there and tell me that you wouldn’t have blown off a weekend with your girlfriend for a chance to earn a million bucks, then, yes, you’re a better man than Elliot.”

  “There was one night,” Simon mused, “when I would have given a million bucks to find my car keys. I had a Saturday-night date with Gloria, and I stayed a little too long. By the time I remembered I was meeting Susan for Sunday brunch, I couldn’t find the keys to my car. What a mess.”

  “You would not have traded a million dollars for your car keys,” Leila scoffed.

  “Oh yes, I would. You didn’t know Susan.”

  “No way.” Leila shook her head in disbelief. “If someone had come up to you and said, ‘Here’s a million dollars. You can have that or your car keys,’ you honestly expect me to believe you would have turned down the money?”

  “Well, maybe not,” Simon admitted. He scratched his head. “I guess there are a very few things someone would choose over a cool million bucks.”

  “That’s rubbish,” Marsh said evenly.

  He’d been quiet for so long, Leila had almost forgotten he was standing there.

  “I can think of dozens, right off the bat,” he continued, sitting down across from her. “World peace. The end of hunger and starvation, a cure for cancer and AIDS. Shall I go on?”

  “But that’s all unr
ealistic,” Leila protested. “Situations like that never arise. Sure, even Elliot would probably trade a million dollars for world peace. But he doesn’t have to worry about it. He’s never going to have to make that choice. It’s theoretical.”

  Would Elliot trade a million dollars for anything? Leila wasn’t absolutely positive. He’d grown up in a middle-class suburb of New York City, raised with the belief that money could buy the answer to any problem. He strove for, and achieved, the financial security his parents had never had. Money was his god and the monkey on his back. He both worshiped and cursed it, and no matter how much of it he had, he always wanted more.

  Marsh, on the other hand, had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had the attitude of the very wealthy. He’d always had money to burn, so he never hesitated to burn it. His lack of concern over financial matters had always infuriated Leila.

  Marsh glanced at her as if he felt her studying him. His brown eyes were cool, his eyelids half-lowered as if he were relaxed, laid-back. Outside the window, on the beach, the quiet rush of the gentle Gulf waves murmured in the darkness.

  “I’d gladly trade a million dollars,” Marsh said quietly, “for one—just one—of my mother’s smiles.”

  His gaze swept in Leila’s direction, and this time he didn’t look away. She suddenly realized that he wasn’t relaxed at all. His eyelids were half-lowered to hide the inferno that was churning inside of him. She watched as Marsh leaned forward in his chair. In the bright overhead light, his angular face looked sharper, harsher, but no less handsome.

  “I’d choose fertility for every couple in the world who want desperately to have a child,” he continued. “I’d choose a brand new pair of legs that walk and run and jump, instead of that damned mechanical chair I ordered for little Billy Monroe. I’d choose life…or just another chance to save the life of every single patient I’ve lost in the ER.” His voice shook slightly, and he stopped, looking down at the table in front of him. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was steady.

  “And if you want even more realistic choices, how about this: I’d choose the opportunity to live and work in the one place in the world I think of as my home, to have patients who are also my neighbors and friends, to know that when I walk down the street I’m respected and cared about by the people I pass. And yes, you’re right, this was an actual choice I made several years ago. I turned down a job with a private practice in Boston that would have earned me quite a bit more than that million dollars by now. Down here on Sunrise Key, I may be living hand-to-mouth, but no one owns a piece of my soul.” He smiled at Leila. “Perhaps my heart, but not my soul.”

  Leila was shocked. She hadn’t known any of that. She’d never stopped to consider what Marsh had given up to live on Sunrise Key. And she’d never heard him speak so openly, so honestly. She hadn’t realized he was capable of such heartfelt words.

  Silence. Outside in the bushes, locusts chirped and whirred. On the beach, the waves continued their soft ebb and flow.

  “Well,” Marsh said with a soft laugh, “I certainly killed that conversation, didn’t I?” He stood up, glancing at his watch. “It’s getting late. I have to head over to the Kavanaughs’ to check on Kim and the baby once more before bed.”

  Marsh watched as Leila turned away and began straightening the papers on the dining room table. Well, that hadn’t gone too badly. He’d said some things he never would have dared say to her before, and she hadn’t run screaming from the room—or ridiculed him. She’d just stared at him in surprise, her eyes wide and violet blue and infinitely bottomless. He could have been pulled into her eyes and floated there for an eternity, and for several heart-stopping moments he had.

  Do you want to come along to the Kavanaughs’? Marsh wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t. It seemed a too blatantly obvious come-on. A moonlit night, a ride in Simon’s jeep along the quiet island streets…

  “I’m going upstairs,” Leila announced, finally gathering up her notes. Her hair was charmingly rumpled, her blond curls mussed. “After I call Frankie, I’m going to bed.” She gave both Marsh and Simon a long, hard look. “You guys say one word about this ninja thing to anyone, anyone, you’re dead men. Got it?”

  Simon and Marsh nodded solemnly.

  That seemed to satisfy Leila. “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” Marsh said. She turned to leave the room, but he had to stop her. “Leila?”

  He hadn’t been entirely honest. There was one more thing he would gladly trade a million dollars for.

  She looked back at him, a question in her eyes.

  “True love.”

  She frowned, clearly confused.

  “I’d choose true love,” Marsh said again, “over a million dollars. In fact, I’d trade a million dollars for even the mere hope of finding true love.” He smiled at the look of sudden comprehension on her face. There was more, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words: If I were Elliot, I wouldn’t have stayed in New York this weekend. I would have gladly traded a million dollars to spend the weekend with you.

  She nodded. “Good night,” she murmured.

  As she left the room, he turned to find Simon watching him.

  “I’m dying to see where this is going to go,” Simon said.

  Marsh took a deep breath, letting it slowly out. “I’m just dying.”

  FOUR

  “GOING TO THE beach?” Marsh asked as he came into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Bright morning sunlight streamed in through the window.

  Leila was wearing a short filmy sundress over her bathing suit. It was a two piece, in a bright blue-and-green pattern that was clearly visible underneath the white, gauzy fabric of her dress.

  “Good guess,” she said, then drained her glass of juice.

  “Simon up yet?” He leaned against the kitchen counter as he looked at Leila over the edge of his coffee cup.

  Leila shot him a look, implying that his question was a ridiculous one.

  “Right,” Marsh said. “He’s still asleep.”

  She turned to pick up her beach bag and a towel.

  “Mind if I tag along?” Marsh asked. “You know, to the beach?”

  Surprised, Leila turned to look at him. He was wearing his bathing suit, too, she realized. Funny, she’d just assumed he’d be going in to his office.

  “I’m taking some time off,” he told her, as if he could read her mind. “Of course, I’m on call for emergencies, but I’m taking the next few weeks easy. I have no scheduled appointments today. Tomorrow I’m only going in for a half day, and the day after I’m off again.”

  He was watching her, and his eyes were positively warm. In fact, Leila felt if she looked at him for too long, she just might spontaneously combust.

  “That’s…nice,” she said.

  His bathing suit was neon orange with a funky black pattern. It had to be one of Simon’s since most of Marsh’s clothes had been destroyed in the fire, she remembered. Still, it looked good on him. It was short and showed off his long, muscular, tanned legs. He had nice legs—and she was staring at them, she realized suddenly.

  She glanced up into his face again, only to find that his eyes were taking their own leisurely stroll up and down her legs.

  Leila turned away, afraid he would see the expression on her face. She knew that she couldn’t hide the sudden wave of longing she felt—or the surprise she felt at the odd sensation of wanting.

  That ninja and his high-voltage kisses had really thrown her emotions out of whack. If she was driven to staring at Marsh Devlin’s legs—nice as they might be—she was in worse shape than she’d thought.

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Leila led the way down the steps from the deck and onto the beach. The sand was warm and felt delicious beneath her bare toes. She stopped walking to luxuriate in the sensation. Boy, she loved it there on Sunrise Key’s gorgeous beach.

  Seabirds danced and floated on the cool breeze that was coming in dire
ctly off the sparkling blue-green Gulf water. The sky was the perfect shade of blue, with puffy white clouds that looked as if they had been drawn there. Sunlight was reflecting off the pure white sand.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she said with a sigh. “Like paradise.”

  Marsh nodded. He was watching her again.

  “Did you really turn down a high-paying job in Boston in order to live here?”

  He drew a line in the sand with his toe. “Is that really so strange?”

  “How could you just turn your back on all that money?”

  “How could I not?”

  Leila stared out at the ocean, more affected than she would have thought possible by the simplicity of his answer.

  “The people I care most about in the world all live down here,” Marsh said. “Well, most of them, anyway. And like you said, it’s paradise.”

  Leila still didn’t speak, didn’t move.

  “Besides,” Marsh continued. “Six-figure salaries are way overrated.”

  She looked at him then. “You still believe that? Even though you’re currently living hand-to-mouth?”

  Marsh winced. “Ah, yes. I did mention something about that last night, didn’t I?”

  “Simon says your account books are a mess. Will you let me take a look at them?”

  “You’re supposed to be on vacation,” Marsh said.

  “You’re helping me with my wild goose chase.” She started walking again, heading across the wide beach toward the lounge chairs that were near the edge of the water. “Let me help you, too.”

  “I don’t think this is a wild goose chase.” Marsh followed her. “You know, finding your ninja. I think it’s a good idea.”

  “You do.” The sea breeze lifted the edge of her skirt, and Marsh’s eyes followed.

  “I’d just like to know one thing. Have you thought any more about what you intend to do if you actually find him?”

  “Best-case scenario?” Leila asked, and he nodded. “With any luck, he’ll be awful, and that’ll burst the whole fantasy bubble. Then I can get on with my life.”

  “Marry Elliot, in other words.”

  “Yeah,” Leila said. “Maybe I’ll marry Elliot.”