Kiss and Tell by Suzanne Brockmann

to the driveway.
    “This is probably unnecessary,” Marsh said as they climbed into the jeep. He started the engine with a roar and left the driveway before Leila even got her seat belt fastened. “Timothy has the tendency to be overly melodramatic. Even though he seemed so convinced that something is wrong, that the mare is in trouble, I’m sure everything’s all right—I’ll probably just stand by and let nature take its course.”
    Yesterday, Marsh had driven her brother’s jeep the same way he used to drive his little convertible sports car—nice and easy, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift. But today, both hands gripped the wheel, and he was driving at least fifteen miles per hour faster than the speed limit.
    “Still,” Marsh continued, “this mare is a major source of income for this family. If something were to happen to it, the Beauchamps would be in even worse shape financially.”
    Leila watched him as he drove. He looked incredibly handsome this afternoon—almost as good as he had looked last night at the Rustler’s Hideout. He was wearing a crisp, new pair of navy slacks and a clean white shirt, nothing worn or secondhand today. In the backseat of the jeep, she could see a nice sports jacket and a tie. Whatever he’d been doing earlier that afternoon, he’d been wearing his very best clothes to do it. “You look nice. What’s the occasion?”
    He glanced at her. “I had a meeting with the building inspector.”
    “The building inspector?” Leila said. “Why?”
    Marsh shifted into a higher gear, making the tires of the jeep hum as they sped even faster along the road. “I have to decide what I’m going to do about the house. If I don’t start rebuilding soon, they’re going to condemn the place.” The muscles worked in his jaw as he stared otherwise expressionlessly at the road. “And they’re right. As it stands, the house
is
a health hazard.”
    He glanced over to find Leila watching him. He hadn’t fooled her. He could see in her eyes that she knew how upset he was.
    “Did they give a date, a deadline? How soon are they talking about?”
    Marsh shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ve got Timothy Beauchamp to worry about right now.”
    He didn’t care about the deadline? That wasn’t remotely true. But it was clear to Leila that he didn’t want to talk about his financial problems right now.
    “Don’t forget about the horse,” she said lightly. “She’s the one in labor.”
    Marsh glanced at her again in surprise. She’d let him change the subject. “Somehow I think Tim probably is the more frightened of the pair.”
    “Back when you were at Harvard Medical School, did you ever even dream that someday some of the babies you’d deliver would have four legs and a tail?”
    She wasn’t pressing him about his financial woes. That was strange. He’d expected her to question him relentlessly until he spilled all of the vital information.
    And it wasn’t as if she simply didn’t want to know. She did. He could tell that she was curious. But for some reason, she’d backed off. She’d given him space instead of the third degree. It was thoughtful of her, and sweet.
    Impulsively, he reached over and took her hand. “Thank you.”
    “What, for asking you a silly question?” she said with a laugh.
    “Yes.” Marsh gave her hand a gentle squeeze before he released it. “Exactly for that.”
    “One of these days you’re going to get out your accounts books and we’re going to sit down and figure out a financial plan. And it better be soon. You’re running out of time in more ways than one. I’m leaving in a little more than a week.”
    Marsh nodded. That was a fact he was all too aware of. Nine days and Leila would be getting on a plane, heading back north to New York City. “How about tonight?” he asked.
    “Great. After dinner we lock ourselves in Simon’s den.”
    The image of the two of them