Kiss and Tell (14 page)

They skimmed down the length of her body, lingering on her barely covered breasts, then even diving beneath the surface of the water. It was a wonder that the entire pool didn’t begin to boil from the heat of his gaze.

Leila wrung the water from her hair, and his eyes followed her movement. He looked at her hands, her upraised arms, her breasts, her mouth, and then finally,
finally
into her eyes.

“You look like you’re feeling much better.”

She
had
been feeling better, but now she felt positively dizzy again. But it wasn’t from heat exhaustion. Leila moistened her lips, and his eyes flickered to her mouth again. “I am.” Her voice sounded husky.

Marsh nodded. “Good.”

“You’re home early.” He was making her nervous. She sank down so that the water covered her to her neck. “Or are you still working? Is this a house call?”

Marsh swung his jacket off his shoulder and carried it over to one of the lounge chairs. “No.” He turned back to her. “I’m quite done for the day. I left my black bag in the jeep.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “As of five o’clock, the doctor is out. He can only be reached via beeper in the direst of emergencies.”

“You have a beeper.”

She was looking at him with the oddest expression on her face. Marsh watched as she swam gracefully toward the steps.

Water fell off her body in a sheet as she came out of the pool.

She was indescribably gorgeous. Marsh had never seen her wear this bathing suit before. It was black and tiny and it glistened from being wet—as did her tanned skin. It was remarkable—yesterday’s sunburn had already turned to a delectable golden tan. She wore no makeup, and she looked clean and fresh and young.

But her pretty face and incredible body were all just decoration, wrapping for the vibrant, warm, amazing woman that Leila was. Marsh loved her so much at that moment, he couldn’t speak.

She walked directly toward him.

Marsh had passed his anatomy classes at Harvard Med School with a 4.0 average. He’d learned the names of all of the muscles that tightened and relaxed and moved and flexed as Leila came toward him. But for the life of him he couldn’t remember any of them right now.

All he could say was her name. “Leila…”

He’d fantasized all day, in between appointments, about coming home and pulling her close and kissing her until she melted in his arms. He’d fantasized about carrying her upstairs, into her bedroom, and making love to her as the sun set over the Gulf.

He’d fantasized about it, but knew it wasn’t likely to happen. Leila probably had no idea what the sight of her in that skimpy bikini did to his blood pressure. She probably didn’t realize that the look in her eyes was faintly predatory and made him nearly hum with desire.

Any second now, she’d get close enough to drip on his shoes, flash him one of her magnificent smiles, and head for her towel.

But she didn’t stop until her arms were around his neck, and her wet body was pressed tightly against him. He put his arms around her, too—he was no fool. He ran his hands up and down her back and arms, touching her, pressing her even closer to him.

She gazed up at him, and he knew she could see the shock in his eyes. She could probably see his desire, too, and if she couldn’t see it, she could feel it from the proximity of their two bodies.

“Well,” he said breathlessly, “this is quite a welcome home.”

Leila gently pulled his head down and lifted her mouth to his and…

It was better than any of his fantasies. She kissed him slowly, sweetly, coaxing his mouth open with her tongue. Not that he needed coaxing. He met her tongue in a slow, sensual dance that made him feel drugged, intoxicated.

He heard himself moan, dizzy with emotion, and suddenly something flashed and the kiss was no longer slow, no longer languorous. The sweetness turned instantly to fire. Marsh could feel her body against his, white-hot and molten, her mouth granting him access, inviting him in. It was fierce and explosive, passionate and wild.

The entire world spun crazily as Marsh kissed Leila feverishly, deliriously. She angled her head to kiss him even harder, deeper. He thrust his fingers through her wet curls, burning with desire, giddy with love.

He loved Leila without reservation, without restraint. And he had to believe that she felt something for him, too. Because this time he wasn’t wearing a mask. This time, she knew bloody well whom she was kissing.

And she was probably realizing right about now that he was…

Leila pulled back. Her breasts moved with every rapid breath she took, but Marsh couldn’t look anywhere except into her eyes. She
knew.

“You’re my ninja.”

Marsh nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, God.”

He saw her hesitation, read the indecision in her eyes. She couldn’t decide whether to yell at him or kiss him again.

He took the decision out of her hands, pulling her back into his arms and covering her mouth with his.

He would kiss her. He would kiss her until she forgot about being angry or hurt or upset or whatever she was feeling. He would kiss her, and then he would explain why he hadn’t told her, and she would understand.

But she stiffened in his arms and pulled away.

“Leila,” he started to say, and she pushed him, hard, into the swimming pool.

TEN

“L
EILA, DAMMIT—
WAIT
!
”

But Leila didn’t want to wait. She grabbed her towel from the back of a chair and strode into the house, slamming the sliding glass door shut behind her.

She was halfway up the stairs before Marsh caught up with her. He was soaking wet and dripping all over Simon’s rug. He pushed his hair back from his face. His eyes begged her to give him a chance, but the grim angle of his jaw told her he didn’t truly expect her to.

“Leila, come on—”

He reached for her arm, but she pulled away, turning to glare down at him from several stairs higher.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s rather hard to explain, but—”

“I’ll bet it’s hard to explain.” The hurt she was feeling threatened to overpower her, to make her dissolve into tears. How could he have done this to her? How could he have watched for nearly two weeks while she made a royal fool of herself? She had been so stupid—she hadn’t even suspected Marsh. But now that she knew, it all made perfect sense. Marsh wore a beeper. Kim Kavanaugh had gone into hard labor right around midnight….

She could imagine Marsh and Simon, reduced to a puddle of tears, laughing at her behind her back. The image stung and burned. She couldn’t bear the hurt, so she focused on the anger. She crossed her arms and spoke through clenched teeth. “Clearly, you intended to humiliate me right from the start.”

“It’s hard to explain, but if you let me, I’ll try—”

“Did you and Simon have a good laugh?”

“Of course not,” Marsh said indignantly. “We didn’t laugh—”

“Oh, God. Simon
did
know.” She scrambled up the stairs, desperate to get away from him, afraid that any moment she was going to burst into tears.

On the top landing, Marsh caught her arm. “Leila, please—”

“Leave me alone! The joke’s over. You win.”

“It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t any kind of joke.”

She whirled to face him, poking him in the chest with one finger. “Somehow, some day, I’m going to get back at you for this, Devlin. I’m not sure how, but you better believe that I’ll think of something.”

She turned to run to her room because the tears were coming and dammit, there was nothing she could do to stop them.

But Marsh still held her arm, and he didn’t let go. He gripped both of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him—forcing her to let him see just how badly he had hurt her.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as the pain broke through the last of her fragile defenses. To her complete horror, she couldn’t hold back the deep, body-shaking sobs that seemed to rip through her.

Marsh was stunned. Leila was crying. She was crying as if her very heart had been ripped from her chest and stomped into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Don’t cry! Leila, please, I promise you, I wasn’t trying to trick you, or play a joke on you, or anything. I didn’t tell you I was the man you were looking for, because I thought you’d run away from me.”

She pulled free from his grasp, and ran for her room.

“Exactly the way you’re running right now.” Her door slammed shut. He cursed in frustration as he tried the doorknob. It was locked.

But his room was next to hers—they shared the same balcony. Marsh went into his bedroom and out the balcony door. Leila’s door was open. He knocked on the frame as he opened the screen door.

“Leila?”

She was sitting on her bed, her back to him. If she was still crying, her tears were silent now. “Go away.”

“I can’t.” He sighed. “I need to make you understand.”

“I understand. I understand that you’re a bastard.” She laughed, but her voice was still thick with tears. “You know, I was actually starting to fall in love with you. What a fool.”

“But, that’s what I wanted.”

“Then you’re even more cruel than I thought.” Leila stood up, squaring her shoulders and wiping her eyes on the heels of her hands as she turned to face him. “I’d like you to leave.”

“I wanted you to fall in love with me,” Marsh said desperately, “because—” he took a deep breath, “because
I’m
rather frantically in love with
you.
”

Leila’s eyes widened. “You
love
me?” she whispered.

“Yes.” The word was easier to say than he’d imagined. It was almost laughably easy to say because Leila was standing there looking at him, the hurt in her eyes disappearing with every word he spoke. “I’ve been in love with you for about as long as I can remember. It seems to be something of a terminal condition,” he admitted with a small smile.

But Leila didn’t smile back at him.

“Really?” she asked.

Marsh met her gaze steadily, for the first time in his life dropping all of his defenses, letting Leila see,
really
see into his soul, into his heart. It was terrifying—and exhilarating. “Yes,” he whispered.

Marsh didn’t know who moved first, but he met Leila halfway, and then she was in his arms again, and he was kissing her and she was kissing him.

She believed him. Thank God. Thank
God.

He kissed her again and again, for what seemed like an eternity. Her mouth was so soft. Her skin was so smooth, and there was so much of it that wasn’t covered by her bathing suit.

Marsh finally knew the true meaning of ecstasy.

And then Leila pulled him back with her onto her bed, wet clothes and all.

This couldn’t possibly be happening. It was everything he’d ever wanted, all of his fantasies coming true.

She kissed him again, a feverish, scorching kiss that left him dizzy with desire. She began to move, sliding her body along the growing length of his arousal, hooking her legs around him, fitting him even more tightly against her.

He was going to make love to Leila. Right here. Right now. The realization spun him around and damn near knocked him over.

She tugged at his wet shirt and he moved back. One swift yank pulled it up and over his head. Her top followed, and then she was in his arms, wearing only those dangerously tiny bathing suit bottoms.

Her breasts were perfect. Small and firm, they fit his hands perfectly. He kissed her fiercely, trying to show her how he felt, trying to show her the total and absolute power she had over him.

He trailed kisses down her neck, down to the hard pink buds of her nipples, taking first one and then the other into his mouth. She moaned and he suckled harder until she cried out. Marsh ran his hands up and down and across her stomach and back and breasts and thighs, kissing her and caressing her with his mouth and tongue and fingers until she all but shook with desire.

His hand swept underneath the black nylon of her bathing suit and she arched up against him, pressing his fingers deep inside of her.

He felt her hands fumble with his belt buckle, felt her loosen the belt, unbutton and unzip his pants. He clenched his teeth, hard, to keep from crying out as her fingers closed around him.

Yes.
Yes.
This was what he’d wanted for so long. A chance to be one, to be joined with this woman that he loved so desperately. She was watching him, smiling at his reaction to her exquisite touch.

She released him, but only to pull off her bathing suit. She wiggled free, and then she was gloriously naked.

And his. All his.

His wet pants stuck to his legs, but he peeled them off in record time.

Miraculously, the single condom he carried in his wallet went on easily. Leila lay back in her bed, watching him. And if she knew that it had been a great deal of time since he’d used a condom—since he’d had the opportunity or even desire to use one—she kindly didn’t comment.

She just smiled at him.

And reached for him as he turned toward her, welcoming him back to her with a kiss that made his head spin. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close, eagerly pressing herself against him.

“For the record,” he said hoarsely, pulling back very slightly, “I
do
love you rather desperately. So if I begin to weep or utterly lose control, you’ll know why.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Marsh—”

“Shh.” He kissed her. “Don’t say a word. You don’t have to say a single word. Just let me love you.”

She kissed him again, arching herself against him in a silent plea. Now. She wanted him now.

“Look at me, Leila,” he commanded.

She met his gaze, catching her breath as he slowly, tenderly, exquisitely guided himself deep within her, filling her completely.

“Oh,” she breathed.

He was one with Leila. Both physically and emotionally, Marsh was complete as he’d never been complete before.

He began to move, slowly, deliberately, still holding her gaze. She moved then, too, savoring each thrust, each delicious wave of sensation.

It was entirely possible that he was not going to live through this experience. It was too perfect, too intense. His heart felt swollen and heavy and damn near ready to burst. But if he died now, God knows he’d die a happy man.

Beneath him, Leila moved faster, harder, and he kissed her, matching her movements, picking up the pace. He felt her long, graceful fingers sweeping down his back, her hands cupping his buttocks, holding him more tightly inside her. His skin was slick with perspiration, but she didn’t seem to care, in fact, she caught a bead of moisture that ran down his neck with her tongue, damn near pushing him over the edge into oblivion.

Marsh fought for precious control as he gazed down at her. He wanted to shout that she belonged right there, on Sunrise Key, in his arms forever and ever. She didn’t think she could be happy living on Sunrise Key? Well, right this very moment, she was looking happily-ever-after straight in the eye.

She pulled him down, so that the full weight of his body was on top of her. Her breath came in gasps, and he could feel the wonderful contrast of her soft breasts and pebble-hard nipples against his chest. She drew his tongue deep into her mouth, moaning her pleasure.

Marsh felt the first wave of her release as she clung to him. She wanted more,
more,
so he gave it to her. And then, as the turbulence of her climax grew, he gave her everything. He relinquished his tenuous control and joined her, rocketing up into a wild, delirious explosion of colors and sounds and sensations.

She owned him, body, heart, and soul.

He could only pray that she felt the same.

“Leila, love, I’ve got to go.”

The man in the ninja costume gently brushed Leila’s hair from her face and then kissed her. It was another of his deep, soulful kisses, the kind that made her melt.

Leila put her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. “Don’t go. Stay.”

He kissed her again. His mouth was cool and fresh and tasted like toothpaste. “You know I’d love to stay,” he murmured. “But Megan Andrews is running a temp of one-oh-four and her parents are already waiting for me in the office and—”

Leila opened her eyes, suddenly wide awake, suddenly remembering everything,
everything
that had transpired late the day before. And the night.

Marsh.

Marshall Devlin was her ninja. Marshall Devlin was the man who had kissed her at Simon’s New Year’s Eve party.

He was also the man who had made love to her most exquisitely, nearly all night long.

“…a message from Matt Lenore on my answering service. No doubt he forgot to change the dressing on his burned hand and now it’s probably infected.” Marsh was sitting on the edge of her bed, one arm braced on either side of her. “I may as well have him come into the office while I’m there. Save me a house call later tonight.”

His hair was still wet from his shower, and he wore a clean white shirt and a pair of dark blue pants. He looked more like the Marsh Devlin she thought she’d known all these years than the man who had made such incredible, passionate love to her. Except his eyes were so warm as he looked down at her, so hot with the memories of the love they’d shared.

His hair fell into his eyes, and Leila found herself reaching up and gently pushing it back. He took her hand and kissed it.

“I’ll come home as soon as I can. Take it easy again today. Be careful of the sun. Stay cool. In fact, stay in bed.” The heat in his eyes turned hotter. “Save my place. With any luck, I’ll be back in just a bit, all right?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He kissed her again, lightly this time, and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Marsh was her ninja.

The concept was still shocking.

The night before, after Marsh had told her that he loved her, she hadn’t thought once about the fact that he was her mystery man.

Oh, the way he’d made her feel!

It was frighteningly intense. It was frighteningly powerful. It was frighteningly real.

It was frighteningly
frightening.

What a mess this was turning out to be.

She’d always been convinced that Marsh looked down his nose at her. Now he claimed to be in love with her. And God knows she was head-over-heels in love with him. But what did it all mean? As far as she could see, being in love with Marsh only complicated her life beyond belief.