Frankie Paresky, dressed as Cleopatra, was leaning against the bar that had been set up in the yard. With her shoulder-length dark hair and dark eyes, Leila's best friend on Sunrise Key looked spookily realistic, as if she'd stepped out of a stone tablet of hieroglyphics, or traveled forward in time.

"Welcome back," she shouted to Leila over the loud music, with a smile that quickly faded. "Uh-oh, what's wrong?"

"My brother's choice of friends, that's what." Leila stole a glass of wine from a nearby tray and took a long sip. "And these stupid plastic shoes are killing my feet."

"Are you and Marsh Devlin fighting again?" Frankie asked. "Of course you are. Dumb question. You two are in this year's revised copy of the dictionary under the word argumentative. You've been fighting ever since that very first vacation Marsh took down here with his dad."

"He is such an infuriating snob," Leila seethed.

"I don't know," Frankie said mildly in her gentle southern accent. "He's been real polite to me whenever I talk to him. But he's got that upper-class British thing happening, you know, as if his collar's too tight around his neck. Still, that doesn't make him a snob. He's just all backed up. I seriously doubt he acts that way intentionally."

"Yeah, well, what he does do intentionally is push my buttons," Leila said. "The man loves to torment me."

"I always thought he had some kind of thing for you. I swear I've seen him looking at you like he wants to gobble you up."

"Chew me up and spit me out is more like it." Still, an unbidden picture of Marsh's face as he told her he could give her a baby leaped into her mind.

Frankie smiled. "How are you?" she said, looking closely at Leila. "You look great. A little pale, but a few days on the beach'll take care of that. So where's this Yankee friend of yours?"

"Don't ask," Leila said.

"All right, I won't." Frankie changed the subject. "How's your mom? Simon told me she spent Christmas with you in New York."

"She's doing all right. It's hard for her to be here on the key now that Dad's gone, especially at this time of year. She's visiting relatives out west for a few weeks, then she's going on a cruise with my aunt Carol. She won't be back on Sunrise Key until February."

"She's smart," Frankie said. "Why stay here and get depressed?"

"Exactly."

"Hey, did you hear I got my private investigator's license?"

"Yeah. Congratulations. Simon told me the news. But…"

"There's not a lot of cases to solve here on Sunrise Key," Frankie finished for her. "I know, a place like this isn't exactly rampant with crime. But last week, Liam Halliday's office hired me as a consultant." She laughed, her dark brown eyes sparkling. "I picked through the school dumpster, looking for the Tennison girl's orthodontic retainer. Found it, too. A few more solid cases like that, and I'll be ready to write my memoirs."

"Liam Halliday." Leila took a handful of celery sticks from a platter on the bar, and shifted her weight to her right foot, the one that hurt the least. "The name rings a bell, but I can't place him."

"He's the sheriff," Frankie said. "Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, brown eyes…?"

Leila shook her head.

"Cowboy hat, Texas drawl, parties too hard…?" Frankie continued.

Leila shrugged. "Maybe I've never met him. Or maybe I did and I just don't remember."

"If you'd met him, you'd remember him," Frankie said dryly. "He's cute as hell, a real good-time, good ole boy. He's asked me out a few times, but I found excuses and turned him down. Going down to the Rustler's Hideout and slamming back a six-pack or two isn't my idea of a fun night out. I'm looking for a man who likes to spend a quiet evening at home, watching foreign films—and I'm not talking about Japanese monster movies."

"Good luck. Are you seeing anyone at all these days?" Leila asked.

Frankie shook her head and her big earrings jingled. "Nope."

"You're not still carrying a torch for Noah Kavanaugh, are you?"

"Too bad for me, if I were." Frankie rolled her eyes. "You know, he and Kim are having a baby. She's already a week past the due date."

"I heard that, too," Leila said. "And let's see, what else? Preston Seaholm is back in town."

"I saw his Rolls out front. I think he's here, somewhere, tonight." Frankie looked around at the crowd.

"…without his wife," Leila said. "What's the scoop on that?"

"Apparently the new Mrs. Seaholm didn't marry Pres merely for his money. Turns out she was using him as a stepping-stone. He knows a bunch of movie producers based in Orlando, and one of 'em liked Mrs. S. enough to screen-test her and she landed a supporting role in a movie. Pres wasn't keen on spending eight months in Orlando, so he moved back here. Word has it, the divorce papers arrived in the mail less than a week after he was back. One thing's certain—you can bet Pres is thanking God and his attorneys for that prenup he had her sign."

"So he's single now." Leila traded her empty glass for a full one, wishing the wine would heal the blisters that were starting to form on her feet. Plastic shoes were the pits. Did Cinderella have this much pain from her glass slippers? Probably. Leila bet those fairy tales were written by a man. "Why don't you go out with him?"

Frankie laughed. "Oh, I am exactly Preston Seaholm's type … not! Good grief, Lei, the man's a billionaire, and I don't even have a hundred bucks in my checking account."

"So?"

"So, get real. He collects real estate for a living," Frankie said. "I dig through dumpsters."

"Simon told me there's another new guy in town. A lifeguard or something?"

"Hayden Young," Frankie told her. "Oh, baby. He can save my life anytime. He's got the three essential Bs."

"Which are…?"

"Blond hair, blue eyes, and big biceps. Not to mention his various other muscles."

"Gee, and I thought one of those Bs would stand for brain," Leila said wryly.

"Believe it or not, I think he's got one of them, too. He's working on getting a Ph.D. in—get this—philosophy. He took this lifeguard job as a way to earn money while he sits around and thinks about his dissertation."

"He sounds perfect. Maybe he even watches foreign movies. Ask him out."

"I'd have to take a number and stand in line," Frankie said. "Every woman over the age of fourteen and under the age of one hundred is going to the beach and batting her eyelashes at the guy."

"Bummer."

"Yeah," Frankie agreed.

"Speaking of bummers, my feet are killing me."

"So take the shoes off. Be an authentic Cinderella, and drop one somewhere. It's almost midnight anyway. I don't know about you, but I want to grab a lounge chair so I can see Simon's fireworks without straining my neck."

"I'll catch up with you in a sec." Leila leaned down and pulled off her shoes. Oh, Lord, that was much better. She straightened up, then jumped back, alarmed. One of the ninjas was standing directly in front of her.

He was dressed all in black. Black sweat pants, black shirt, black sash around his waist, black shoes, and a black mask that covered his hair and all of his face, except for his mouth and chin. His eyes glittered colorlessly from two holes cut into the mask.

He wasn't really a ninja, Leila had to remind herself. He was only dressed like one. Still, he looked awfully mysterious.

Without warning, the lights dimmed even further, and the music kicked up in volume.

"Three minutes till countdown!" Simon's voice boomed over the p.a. system. "Three minutes left in the old year!"

"Dance with me," the ninja said. She couldn't hear him over the music, she could only read his lips.

She shook her head. Who was he? She couldn't identify him with that costume on. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. He took her hand and led her to the crowded dance floor.

The song was an old, slow, romantic tune, something about night and day, day and night. The ninja pulled Leila close, holding him against her with a familiarity that was baffling. Who the heck was he?

His arms were solid—his whole body was solid and strong. She didn't know any men on Sunrise Key with a body like this. Except maybe Simon. But this sure wasn't her brother.

"Do I know you?" she whispered into the place under his mask where his ear should have been.

But he didn't answer her. He only held her closer, tightening his arm around her waist until she was fully pressed against him, from her knees all the way up to her chest. The dance floor was so full, it was impossible to do more than rock back and forth. Still, he moved gracefully.

And he smelled good. Fresh and clean, as if he'd just stepped out of a shower. It was that more than anything else that made Leila give in to the moment and rest her head on the man's shoulder. She felt him sigh, felt him touch the side of her face with gentle fingers, and she closed her eyes.

When was the last time she'd been held like this?

Not since she'd been dating Elliot, that much was for sure.

"Fifteen seconds to the new year!" Simon shouted, and Leila lifted her head as the crowd around them joined in with the countdown.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven…"

The ninja was watching her, and she stared back into his eyes, trying to guess their color in the dimness.

Hot. Whatever color they were, they were hot. He wanted her—as if she didn't already know that from the intimate position of their bodies.

"Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!" 'Auld Lang Syne' blared from the loudspeakers.

"Happy New Year," the ninja soundlessly said to Leila.

And then he kissed her.

It started out as little more than a sweet brushing of his lips against hers.

Leila wasn't quite sure what happened, whether she was jostled by someone in the crowd, whether she lost her balance, or whether the ninja decided that one small taste was simply not enough and pulled her closer to him.

But suddenly, somehow, he was holding her even tighter, and her mouth had opened under his and he was really kissing her. It was a kiss of possession, a kiss of fire and flame, and Leila felt seared right to her heart. He tasted like champagne, seductively sweet, with one fantastically dangerous kick.

But just as suddenly as he'd begun, he pulled away.

Off balance, Leila wobbled, unsteady on her feet despite the fact that she'd taken off her high heels. She could see pure shock in the ninja's eyes, shock she knew was mirrored in her own face as he reached for her, to steady her. That had been one hell of an amazing kiss.

Above them, the sky exploded into color, and they both looked up to see fireworks streaming down like giant, glittering sparklers.

The ninja smiled. And then he kissed her again.

This time he didn't stop. He drank her in, inhaled her, devoured her in a long, slow, deep kiss as the music swirled around them, as the fireworks whistled and pounded and erupted overhead.

And, just as hungrily, Leila kissed him back. Her arms went around his neck, and her fingers explored the softness of his hair at the base of his hood.

Around them, people were laughing and dancing and blowing on noisemakers, but Leila shut them all out. Nothing mattered, nothing existed but this man, this … stranger, who was kissing her with all of the emotion, all of the heart and soul and passion of a long-lost lover.

"Auld Lang Syne" drew to a tremulous close, and without the music blaring, between bursts of fireworks, Leila slowly became aware that they were beeping. No, not them. The ninja.

She pulled back and he reached for her again, unwilling to let her go.

"You're beeping," she said.

He looked down in what might have been surprise—Leila didn't know—and sure enough, he was wearing a beeper attached to the waistband of his pants.

He opened his mouth to speak, and another song came on, obscuring his words. But he made a gesture with his hands that mimed a telephone, and Leila nodded.

"I'll be right back," he mouthed, rather than try to shout over the loud music. "Don't go anywhere."

Leila tried to protest. She opened her own mouth to ask him to take off his mask, but he'd already been swallowed up by the crowd. He didn't leave a shoe behind.

"You're always trying to convince me that along with being six years older than I am, you're also six years wiser." Leila and her brother sat on the deck overlooking the ocean, watching the sunrise.

As always, Simon was there for her. He was her brother, but he was also her friend—he had been for as long as Leila could remember. He'd never talked down to her. He'd always treated her as if she were a peer. Which, now that they were both in their thirties, she was.

But her friendship with her brother hadn't always been perfect. Back when Leila was younger, Marsh's visits to the island had brought discord to the otherwise harmonious relationship between the Hunt siblings. As a child, Leila had been jealous of Marsh and Simon's friendship. Jealous and a little awed. The two boys had as strong a bond as Leila and her best friend, Frankie, yet Marsh only lived on Sunrise Key during his vacations.

On the other side of the house, several of the more stalwart partygoers were still dancing. The music sounded ghostly as it was carried across the lawn and around the house by the wind.

Leila fingered the gossamer fabric of her Cinderella gown. "So tell me, oh wise one." She looked up to find Simon watching her over the rim of his coffee cup. "What the heck is wrong with me, that I would kiss a total stranger as if the world were coming to an end?"

Simon sat forward, pushing the brim of his hat back to see her better in the predawn light. "You mean, like, tongues?"

"Totally. This man now knows the inside of my mouth better than my dentist."

Simon laughed. "Wow. How unlike you."

"No kidding," Leila said morosely. "I've kissed exactly five men in my entire life. And before I kissed them, I knew their complete background and history. I knew how many parking tickets they'd ever received and whether or not they paid them on time. I knew the names of their kindergarten teachers. I knew their SAT scores and their GMATs. I knew their favorite flavor of ice cream and whether they liked sugar cones or those other icky waffle ones. It was ludicrous. I kissed this guy and actually saw fireworks."

"There were fireworks," Simon pointed out.

"It's crazy." Leila ignored him. "I lost my balance. He swept me off my feet."

"Maybe you had too much champagne," Simon suggested.

"Two dinky glasses? That can't be it."

"Who is he?" Simon asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"That's my point here, Si. I honestly don't know. His beeper went off, and he went dashing out of here. He said don't go anywhere. He said he'd be right back. But he vanished. I spent the rest of the night looking for him." Leila stared out at the water, watching it reflect the glow of light in the east. "God, am I stupid, or what?"

"You don't even have a clue?"

Leila exhaled in exasperation. "All I know is that he's taller than I am. How much taller I can't tell you. He's male, he's strong, he wears a beeper, and he looks good in black. How many men did you invite to this party? A hundred? That description should fit, oh, ninety-five of 'em."

"What kind of costume was he wearing?" Simon asked. "Maybe I know who he was."

"Ninja," Leila said. "He was a ninja."

"Hmmm." Simon took another pensive sip of coffee. "That's a tough one. I don't think I talked to a single ninja all night. I saw at least four of them, but I wasn't sure who they were. You know, the mask and everything."

"My point exactly."

"So what does this mean?" Simon stretched his long legs and rested his cowboy-booted feet on the deck railing. "You're frenching it with some other guy while old what's-his-name, the guy who wants to marry you, isn't around?"

"Ugh, you make it sound so tawdry," Leila moaned.

"It wasn't tawdry?" he asked.

"No! It was…"

"What?"

"Magic." Leila closed her eyes and let her head fall back. "Oh no, did I just say that?"

"I heard you say magic." Simon chuckled. "Thank God."

Leila's eyes shot open. "Thank God?! Whose side are you on? I'm losing my mind and you're giving prayers of thanks?"

"It's just that I was afraid you were actually going to say yes to this Elliot bozo and never give yourself a chance to really fall in love."

Leila stared at her brother. His hair was blond, like hers, but wavy, not curly. His face was handsome, with refined features. His nose was perfectly sculpted with slightly flaring nostrils, his lips were graceful yet masculine, his chin strong without being mulishly stubborn. His eyes were a truer shade of blue than hers, surrounded by long, thick, dark eyelashes that seemed to be nature's way of laughing at all of the women who spent a fortune on mascara.

Her brother's face was elegant, Leila thought sourly. Didn't it figure.

"I think," Simon continued, "that maybe you're in love with this ninja, whoever he is."

Leila laughed, a quick, loud burst of disbelieving air. "You think I'm in love with someone that I not only have never met, but that I've never actually laid eyes on?"

"Stranger things have happened." Simon shrugged. "They say there's a perfect match for everyone. Maybe this guy's perfect for you, and deep down, you recognized that."

Leila rolled her eyes. "I'd rather go with the too-much-champagne theory."

Footsteps on the stairs leading up to the deck made Leila sit up. Maybe it was the ninja. Maybe he was coming back. But it was only two of Simon's friends, coming to say good night before they left.

Simon didn't stand up as he shook the couple's hands, and as Leila excused herself, she felt his eyes on her. She knew he'd picked up on the fact that she was still waiting—like a fool—for that damned ninja to come back.

Leila went into the house, gathering up a trayful of champagne glasses and little plates as she headed toward the kitchen. Simon was a firm believer in recycling, and he never used paper or plastic if he could help it. He'd rented thick, unbreakable glasses and plates from a caterer up in Venice. And he'd hired a local team of cleaners—most of whom had also attended the party—to come over that afternoon and get everything washed and picked up. Still, it couldn't hurt to help.

And as long as she was helping with the cleaning, she didn't have to think.

She didn't have to think about Elliot's plane landing on the tiny island in a matter of hours. She didn't have to think about her conversation with Simon. And mostly, she didn't have to think about the mysterious man who had kissed her and disappeared.

Where had he gone? Why hadn't he come back?

How was it possible that she'd fallen in love and had her heart broken all in the span of a few short hours?

Oh, no way, she told herself firmly. The things Simon had been saying to her were making her confused, that's all. Tonight's little adventure had nothing to do with love. She was simply overtired, that was it.

Still, she couldn't deny that those kisses were incomparable to anything she'd ever experienced before.

"Hey, Cinderella."

Leila looked up to see Marsh Devlin standing in the kitchen door.

"I was sure you'd have turned into a pumpkin long before this," he said, leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing his bathing suit and a T-shirt, with a towel draped over one shoulder. His hair was wet, and, naturally, it flopped down into his eyes. With an apologetic smile, Marsh raked his hair back, out of his face. "If I'd've known you were awake, I'd've asked you to join me for a swim."

"What are you doing up?" Leila asked, drying her hands on a towel. "I thought you'd gone to bed hours ago."

Marsh frowned slightly. "Didn't Simon tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"About the baby."

Leila stared at Marsh blankly.

"Kim Kavanaugh went into hard labor shortly before midnight. I had to get over to the clinic quickly. I asked Simon to tell you."

Leila shook her head. "He never mentioned it. His mermaid friend got all jealous when he danced with Alice in Wonderland, so he was a little distracted. Was it a girl or a boy?"

Now it was Marsh's turn to blink at her. But he caught on quickly enough.

"Girl. Born about half three this morning. Mother and daughter were doing fine, so I came back a little while ago to get some rest." He smiled. "I should've known you'd still be up."

Marsh had been out all night, delivering a baby. That explained his oddness, his nervousness, why he was looking at her so strangely.

Leila sank down into one of the kitchen chairs. Boy, she was tired. How could Marsh stay out all night delivering a baby and look so refreshed, so good? And as long as she was lamenting foolishly, why did he have to be so damned handsome? "Congratulations."

"Thanks. But truth be told, Kim did most of the hard work. Good thing she was there to calm Noah and me down."

Leila snorted, resting her chin in her hand. "You're the King of Calm. I'm sure you were fine."

Marsh shook his head. "This was my fourteenth baby. I have delivered thirteen others. But each one is as if it's the first, Leila. I hold that brand new baby in my hands, and it's … magic. It's fantastic. It's impossibly miraculous."

He came into the kitchen, took the teapot off the stove, and filled it with water. "Of course, right now everything seems rather impossibly miraculous," he continued, tossing another smile in her direction as he lit the burner of the gas stove.

Leila stared at him. He was positively humming with happiness. She'd never seen him like this before. It made him seem charmingly sweet—and amazingly attractive. She had to pull her eyes away from the firm muscles of his back that were stretching the thin cotton of his T-shirt. That was funny. She'd always thought of him as skinny—attractive, but skinny. Where had all those muscles come from? She tried to remember the last time she'd seen him in a T-shirt, but she couldn't.

God, what was wrong with her tonight? First she kissed a total stranger and now she was openly ogling Marsh.

"I am sorry that I had to run out of the party," he said.

"Simon outdid himself this time." Leila rested her head on the table. "It was a terrific party. It's too bad you missed it."

Marsh rummaged through the cupboards, searching for the tea tin. "I hope it didn't get too much better after I left." He glanced at her over his shoulder.

If he only knew…

"Can I interest you in a cup of tea?" He took two mugs out of the cabinet, holding one in each hand as he turned to face her.

He wanted desperately to talk, Leila knew that much from the strange light in his brown eyes. But he wanted to talk about new babies and miracles, and all she could think about was who the heck had kissed her at midnight, and what all these feelings burbling around inside of her meant. And why on earth did the mystery man's failure to return make her ache so badly?

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not up for it right now."

"But Leila—"

"Marsh, Elliot's going to be here by dinnertime, and I suddenly feel as if my entire world's turned upside down." Yes, that was truly what it felt like. It felt as if someone had come into her life and taken all of her neat and tidy shelves and cabinets and pushed them over, into a big, disorganized pile. She wanted to get it all back into at least some semblance of order before Elliot showed up. But something told her it wasn't going to be that easy.

On the stove, the kettle began to whistle. Marsh turned off the heat.

"Elliot. Of course. Right. I'd forgotten about him. Silly of me, really. Have you decided how you're going to tell him—I mean, I'll help you, you know. If you want…"

Leila stared at Marshall. "Tell him?"

"About what happened at the party." His wet hair fell forward into his face, and he swiped at it with his towel. "I mean, it does seem rather significant and—"

"Oh, this is perfect!" Leila exploded. "I should've known Simon couldn't keep a secret. He told you everything, didn't he? About the fireworks and … everything?"

"Simon?" Marsh frowned. "What did he—"

"This is just great." Leila stood up so suddenly that the chair she'd been sitting in fell backward with a crash. How could Simon have done this to her? How could he have told Marsh Devlin—of all people—about that amazing, fabulous, devastating kiss? How could he? But of course, Simon told Marsh, Leila realized. Simon told Marsh everything. Private matters weren't private for long on Sunrise Key. Leila was a fool for thinking otherwise.

But now Marsh knew her deepest, darkest, most terrible secret. How wretchedly awful. How totally, mind-numbingly humiliating. "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Leila, what are you—"

"Damn you, and damn Simon and … and … damn everything!"

Leila hiked up the skirt of her ball gown and ran from the room, leaving Marsh staring after her.

What in bloody hell was going on?

His tea long since forgotten, Marsh went in search of the man he suspected held the answers to all of his questions.

Simon.