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.
