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.

He lived in Florida; she lived in New York. How the heck were they going to make that work? Compromise, and live in North Carolina?

No, it would be unfair to ask Marsh to leave Sunrise Key. He loved it there. And over the past week and a half, Leila had gotten a real reminder of what there was to love about this place.

It was more than the turquoise water and the clean, white sand. It was more than the weather and the waves. It was the community, the town, the odd collection of people who had become Marsh's friends.

On the other hand, the small size of the town didn't allow for the sense of anonymity that Leila felt living in New York City. On Sunrise Key, all you had to do was sneeze loudly, and you'd receive five get-well cards in the next day's mail.

Face it, for all its charm and friendliness—or maybe because of its friendliness—Sunrise Key had an absolute dearth of privacy. Particularly since Simon, the nosiest brother this side of the Mississippi, lived there.

Simon…

Leila sat up.

He had known right from the start that Marsh was her ninja. He had known … and he hadn't said a word.

Leila pulled on her bathrobe and tied the belt tightly around her waist. She ran a brush quickly through her hair, and then went out into the hall. Simon's bedroom door was open a crack, and she peeked in. His bed was empty but obviously slept in. Despite the early hour, he was awake. She went down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Her brother was standing at the counter, cutting himself a slice of watermelon. He looked at her in surprise.

"What are you doing up?" he asked. "I thought Dev told you to take it easy again today."

"You knew," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Knew what? You know, you scared us all to death. Since when do you pass out from too much sun? You were always the kid who could outlast any of us when it came to sunbathing. Shame on you for proving you're human." He took a bite of watermelon for punctuation.

"I can't believe you knew all along that Marsh was the ninja, and you didn't tell me," she shouted.

"He asked me not to," Simon defended himself, holding his watermelon like a shield. "He told me in confidence. I couldn't turn around and tell you."

Leila sat down at the kitchen table. "I feel like such a fool."

"Hey." Simon took the last bite of his watermelon and tossed the rind into the garbage. "If you want my take on the situation, Marsh found it impossible to walk up to you and just blurt out the truth." He rinsed his hands in the sink, looking over his shoulder at her. "I would've found it tough to do, and Marsh is a hundred thousand times more bottled up than I am. I mean, can you picture him just walking up to you and saying, 'Oh, by the way, I love you'?"

Leila shook her head.

"Yet at the same time," Simon continued, drying his hands on a towel, "without getting into any of the intimate details of what went down last night, I've got to believe that Marsh must have made some mention of love and—"

"Whoa." Leila held up one hand. "Last night? What do you know about what happened last night?"

Simon shrugged. "Obviously Marsh told you the truth and nature took its course. I'm happy for you both."

"Oh, perfect." Leila raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Marsh told you about last night? That's absolutely perfect. Do you suppose there's anyone in town who hasn't heard about it yet?"

Simon sat on the kitchen counter, directly in front of her. "Don't be an idiot." He crossed his arms and looked down at her. "Dev didn't say a word. He's not the kind to kiss and tell."

"Then how do you know I … that 'nature took its course'?" Leila demanded. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

"I know because I answered the phone when Ed Andrews called about Megan's fever at six-thirty," Simon said evenly. "I went to Dev's room to wake him up, but he wasn't there. I went into your room, thinking he'd fallen asleep in the chair, the way he did the night before, when you were sick. He was there, and he was asleep all right, but he wasn't in any chair. He was in the bed. With you. And it was quite clear that he wasn't acting in the capacity of your personal physician. Sorry if I infringed on your privacy, Lei."

"What privacy? There is no privacy on Sunrise Key. And there's certainly no privacy in your house!"

"I honestly didn't know you guys were … you know. Involved." He smiled and Leila wanted to punch him. This is what it would be like, living here. Everything she did, every move she made, somehow Simon would find out about it. God forbid she ever got pregnant. No doubt Simon would somehow find out the test results before she did.

"I have to confess," he added, "that I'm really glad you're not going to marry that bozo, Elliot—"

"But I am," Leila lied, wanting to wipe Simon's smug smile off his face. "I'm going back to New York City where privacy isn't a miraculous occurrence. I have to tell Elliot what happened, of course. But if Elliot will still have me, I am going to marry him." It worked. Simon's smile was gone.

There was a pay phone on the corner in front of the gas station. It was a secure line. There was no chance of Simon or anyone else overhearing her call. And that was good, because this was not a call that was going to be any fun to make.

She dialed Elliot's office in New York and waited while his secretary patched her through to his desk.

He sounded rushed and didn't seem to notice or particularly care when Leila told him she was thinking about spending another week or so down on Sunrise Key. So she went a step further, and told him that she'd decided not to marry him.

He stopped shuffling the papers on his desk for all of seven seconds. But he bounced back quickly, wishing her all the best, telling her to stay in touch. Leila slowly hung up the phone. The call was over. The relationship was done. Just like that.

She wished Marsh could be handled as easily. She wished her heart wasn't involved. She wished she could just call him up and say, "Sorry, bad mistake." But she couldn't. Because if her night with Marsh had been a mistake, it was the best mistake she'd ever made.

Never before had she felt so cherished, so loved. Never before had she felt so in tune with another person. Never had she felt so completely happy.

Despite everything she'd said to Simon, the real truth was that Leila was actually considering moving back home to Sunrise Key. Her career wouldn't suffer that much. She'd only lose maybe a third of her clients if she played her cards right. The others would stick with her, particularly if she reduced her rates. And the cost of living was lower down here. She'd probably wind up ahead in the long run.

Still, the idea of coming back to this small town, of moving back to her childhood home, was frightening.

She wanted Marsh's love, but at what price? And when the time came, would she be willing to pay it?

When Leila returned to Simon's house, he met her at the door.

"Who let you out? You're supposed to be taking it easy again today."

She brushed past him, and he closed the screen door behind her. "I didn't realize I was being held prisoner," she retorted. All of her confusion and doubt and frustration was instantly redirected as anger—anger at her brother. After all, this mess was partially his fault. If he had told her the truth about her ninja right from the start…

"Did you talk to Dev?" Simon asked. His normally serene blue eyes were icy and crystalline.

Leila crossed her arms. "No."

Simon crossed his arms, too, undaunted. "If you're really leaving in three days with the intention of marrying Elliot the clown, you probably shouldn't wait until the last moment to discuss this with Marshall."

Leila went into the kitchen. "I don't need you to butt in. In fact, you better not, or—"

Simon laughed as he followed her. "Too late." He jumped up and sat on the kitchen counter. "I've already butted in. I told Dev what you told me."

Leila spun to face him. If he'd told Marsh that she was going to marry Elliot anyway, Marsh would think that the night they'd spent together had meant nothing to her. "I can't believe you did that!"

"If you drop a bomb, kiddo, you have to deal with the fallout. Dev happens to be my friend. I figured you were about to emotionally eviscerate the man, and I thought at least by giving him a warning, I might be able to make the event a little less painful."

"Emotionally eviscerate? Who said anything about emotional evisceration?" Leila said. "I wasn't serious about marrying Elliot, you idiot! I was just trying to make you mad."

"So what are you saying? That you're going to marry Dev?"

"He hasn't exactly asked." Leila turned away from him.

"Give him half a second and less than half a chance and he will."

Leila took a bottle of seltzer from the refrigerator. Her hands were shaking as she poured herself a glass. She took a sip before she spoke.

"I don't think he will. I think he knows as well as I do that there's no real future in our relationship."

"There can be," Simon said. "It just depends on how far you're willing to go. It depends on the risks you're willing to take to make it work."

"Moving back home isn't any kind of risk."

"Maybe you have to stop thinking about it as moving back home." Simon slid off the kitchen counter. "You're really moving ahead—your destination just happens to be Sunrise Key. And Marsh Devlin. Maybe you should try thinking of it that way."

He ruffled her hair as he left the kitchen.

Marsh wasn't in his office downtown.

But Leila ran into Frankie on the sidewalk in front of his office building.

"Hey, I heard you did a nosedive onto the deck a few nights ago."

Leila looked at her friend. Frankie's shiny black hair was damp with perspiration, and she was wearing a torn T-shirt and a pair of paint-splattered cutoffs that had seen better days. "You must've been talking to Nancy Sullivan."

Frankie sat down on the hood of Leila's car and fanned herself with the file folder she was carrying. "Actually, I heard it from Jeanette Miller who heard it from Laura Beauchamp who got it directly from Nancy."

"God, is nothing secret around here?" Leila let her annoyance slip through. "Does the entire town know?"

"Yep," Frankie said cheerfully. "And there's a betting pool on the baby's due date."

Leila's mouth dropped open in surprise. "They all think I'm…"

"Preg-o." Frankie grinned. "Can't pass out around here without a group discussion afterward. The majority consensus is that you're With Child. Capital W, capital C."

Leila groaned.

"Of course, the fact that your alleged fiancé-to-be was a no-show at the biggest party of the year is adding a slice of intrigue to all of the speculation," Frankie continued. "Especially since Paul Casella swears he saw a woman who looks an awful lot like you practicing mouth-to-mouth with Liam Halliday one evening last week, out on the corner of Ocean Avenue and Main Street."

"Oh, damn."

"And just this morning I ran into ol' Liam. Apparently the rumor that he's fathered your illegitimate child is spreading like wildfire. He's looking for you, wants to talk. I think he's worried."

"Worried about what?" Leila sputtered. "Surely he knows that one kiss doesn't get a woman pregnant."

Frankie shrugged. "How's he know he didn't bed you in some drunken fog? For all he knows, he did get you pregnant."

"This is terrific. This is really terrific."

"Of course, there's the contingent who's certain the baby's Marshall Devlin's. Ellen Hartman is positive she saw you kissing Marsh at Simon's New Year's Eve party—right before Marsh took off his ninja costume and went to go deliver Kim Kavanaugh's baby."

Leila glanced at her friend, who was watching her closely.

"You already knew," Frankie said. "You knew Marsh was your ninja."

Leila nodded.

"You knew because you kissed him, right?"

Leila nodded.

"Ah-ha. Just as I suspected. Kissed him and maybe, um…?"

Leila closed her eyes. "Too much sun. I fainted from too much sun. I'm not going to have Marsh Devlin's baby or Liam Halliday's baby or anyone's baby."

"And you kissed Marsh Devlin because…?"

"Why do you kiss a man, Frankie?"

Frankie's grin broadened. "Either because I'm wildly attracted to him…"

"Well, there you go."

"Or because I'm in love with him?"

It was a question Leila didn't want to answer. But Frankie was watching her intently, reading every flash of emotion that crossed Leila's face.

"I knew it."

"Don't you dare tell anyone."

Frankie made a zipper motion across her mouth.

Yeah, right. Leila gave it exactly fifteen minutes before the entire town knew that she was in love with Marsh Devlin.

"This small-minded, gossip-mongering, no-privacy, stupid little town is driving me insane," Leila fumed.

"It's not that bad."

"You're not the one everyone thinks is pregnant."

"Oh, that's just talk. They're not being malicious, just curious. Interested, if you please," Frankie said. "They'll all get over it."

"When?"

"As soon as the next good topic of conversation comes around. Simon and Amanda, for instance. Simon's within a few days of jettisoning Amanda. I can tell by the look in his eyes when he's out with her. There's lots of white showing. She's starting to talk about 'we' this and 'our' that and he's running scared. As soon as they split, everyone'll stop talking about you. Guaranteed."

"Great," Leila grumbled. "If it's not one Hunt providing townwide entertainment, it's another. Oh, Frankie, how did I get myself into this?"

"Into what?" Frankie asked. "You're nuts about Marsh, he's nuts about you. Ninety-nine percent of the population is trying to get into a situation like that. You should be happy."

"But the thought of moving back here…"

"Yeah, imagine being able to hang out with me whenever you felt like it. That would be the real pits."

"I didn't mean that."

"Sunrise Key isn't exactly one of Dante's levels of hell, Lei. Some people actually want to live here. Back when we were kids, you liked living here."

"I grew out of it," Leila muttered.

"Are you sure? Or did you just get temporarily sidetracked? Remember how you always used to say that when you had kids someday, you wanted to give 'em a chance to grow up in a small town like this? Do you really want to raise your children in a city?"

Leila was silent.

"There may be no privacy here," Frankie pointed out, "but there's also no crime. And no snow. And no pollution. And no traffic jams… You feel up to taking a ride?" Frankie asked. "I want to show you something."

Leila looked over at her friend. "What?"

Frankie smiled. "I want to give you a reminder about the good side of living on Sunrise Key."

Leila heard the sound of buzz saws and hammers from inside Frankie's pickup truck as they drove down Point Road. Frankie drove slowly, squeezing through the lines of cars and trucks that were parked along both sides of the narrow street all the way to the corner.

"What's going on?" Leila asked. "What's happening?"

And then Frankie rounded the curve and pulled up in front of Marsh's house.

It was amazing.

The last time Leila was there, the house had been a sagging pile of rubble and ashes. But now, the burned-out shell was down, the foundation cleaned out, and a brand new, fresh wood frame was already up.

She could see Ron Hopkins, still on crutches, standing beside a truckful of wood, supervising five strapping teenaged boys—his sons—who were unloading it. Duke Torrelson and Kevin Beauchamp were up on the roof, nailing down the sheathing. Axel Bayard, Noah Kavanaugh, John Knudsen, and about ten men and women Leila didn't recognize were hammering the studs and beams of the inside partition walls into place. John McGrath, Nancy Sullivan, and Kelly Beauchamp were constructing the stairs up to the second floor. Liam Halliday and several uniformed policemen were framing off the windows and doors. Dozens of other people, many of whom Leila didn't know, swarmed over the structure.

It was good, old-fashioned barn raising. Well, a house raising in this case. The entire town was pitching in, doing the work, rebuilding Marsh's house.

"This was actually Marsh's idea." Frankie pulled her truck into a space recently vacated by a departing car. "The electrician and the plumber are going to do the work for a discount, and everyone else is working for free—even the architect, courtesy of Pres Seaholm. Marsh is giving everyone in town a chance to pay off all their debts to him. But to tell you the truth, I think everyone'd be here regardless of that. In fact, I see a lot of people who don't owe Marsh Devlin one cent. But on Sunrise Key, it's not a matter of who owes what to whom. It's a matter of being a good neighbor and a good friend. Marsh is both of those things to everyone in town."

Marsh had always talked about investing in people. Leila realized she was looking directly at the payoff.

She cleared her throat to get rid of the lump that had suddenly appeared. "Did he know this was happening today?"

Frankie shook her head. "No. We didn't know ourselves—not until the supplies came in this morning. The weather forecast calls for no rain for the next five days, so we figured we'd get started." She looked back at the house. "If we keep up this pace, the exterior will be completed well before that, even though most of the work will be done in the evening, after the regular workday. The inside'll take a little longer, because of the plumbing and wiring, but…" She shrugged. "Marsh's jeep is in the driveway, so I guess he's here somewhere. He's probably really happy."

Leila shielded her eyes with one hand, searching for Marsh's familiar brown hair.

"I'm going to get back to work," Frankie continued. "If you want to pitch in, talk to Pres. He's assigning jobs."

Leila watched as Frankie joined the team building the inside stairs.

'Back when we were kids, you liked living here', Frankie had reminded her. And suddenly, in a rush, it all came back, the feelings of intense happiness she'd had as a child, the sunshine-swept days and warm tropical nights, surrounded by friends and laughter.

All of these people were going to spend the better part of their time off over the next few weeks right here, helping a beloved neighbor. It was old-fashioned and sweet, and it made Leila's chest ache. She could see friendship on every smiling face—and even on the frowning ones. Axel Bayard was arguing with his old friend John Knudsen, but their affection for each other was evident even in their raised voices.

She'd never seen anything remotely like this in her uptown Manhattan neighborhood. And she probably never would.

It was true that in New York, she wouldn't have dozens of nosy neighbors betting on the due date of her nonexistent baby. But she also wouldn't have Marsh.

Marsh.

He was here somewhere. Leila went to look for him.

Marsh stood alone on the beach, looking out over the ocean. Up above him, on the bluff, the newly constructed frame of his house loomed. He could hear the sound of hammers and saws, the sound of voices and laughter.

The water sparkled in the early afternoon sunshine. Seabirds soared and dipped, their raucous cries muted by die sound of the gentle surf.

Ever since he first came to Sunrise Key, Marsh had loved the view from this part of the island. He used to rent one of the dilapidated touring bikes from Millie's Market for his entire vacation, and ride out every day with a book to read and his lunch in a paper sack. He'd sit for hours, not too far from this very spot, looking out at the ocean, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, breathing in the fresh, salty air—and healing.

He'd come to accept the fact that his mother was gone. He'd loved her, but she was gone. There was nothing he could do—except learn to live without her.

It had taken some time. Time, and the brilliant turquoise-blue vastness of the Gulf, the sparkling white at the edge of the water, the healing power of the sun, the soothing sounds of the wind and waves and gulls.

On Sunrise Key, Marsh had left the last of his childhood behind him. He'd let go of the bitter anger he'd felt toward his mother for deserting him the way she had. He'd made the decision to move forward, to embrace his future rather than linger in the past, defeated by grief and disappointment. He'd found peace and security, and eventually a real sense of belonging.

True, his life wasn't perfect by any means. Financially, he was earning far less than he'd been accustomed to having as a child and a teenager. And the fire had been a rather nasty blow. But he had more friends than he could count on all of his fingers and all of his toes.

Marsh looked up at the house, at the walls and roof that were going up. They were tangible proof of his strong and lasting friendships with the people of Sunrise Key. He looked back at the ocean, at the incredible, splendid view. Yes, this was right where he'd always wanted to be.

Except Leila wasn't with him. And deep down inside, he knew that all the water, sand, sun, wind, and time that Sunrise Key had to offer wouldn't help him learn to live without her. It wouldn't help him one bit this time.

And whether or not Leila loved him, he knew he really had only one choice.

With one last look back at the house, Marsh flipped open the cellular phone that Preston Seaholm had lent him.

It was time to make a few phone calls to some old med school friends. It was time to call in a few favors, make a few new connections, and find himself a new job.

In New York City.

Preferably within walking distance of Leila's uptown apartment.

Because if Leila was going to get married, she wasn't going to marry Elliot. She was going to marry him.