A Match for Celia

by Gina Wilkins

  He touched the tip of his tongue to her lower lip, then rubbed his own lips over the moistened area. “Can’t it wait?”

  He slipped one finger beneath the hem of her panties.

  Celia gasped. “No,” she managed. “I don’t think it can.”

  He sighed, but drew his hand away. Slowly. Still holding her close to him, he raised his head and studied her flaming face. “What is it, Celia?”

  She moistened her tingling lips. How to begin? “I haven’t been sleeping with Damien,” she said.

  One corner of his mouth quirked—whether in surprise or satisfaction, she wasn’t sure. “Good.”

  She wasn’t certain he fully understood. “I’ve never slept with Damien.”

  He smiled and rubbed his thumb against her lips. “Even better.”

  “Reed,” she said, growing frustrated. She clutched his shoulders and looked steadily up at him, willing him to understand without making her draw a verbal picture for him. “I’ve never slept with anyone.”

  He went very still. After a moment, he said, “I’m assuming you’re using the word sleep as a euphemism.”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Are you telling me—you’re a virgin?” The word seemed almost as hard for him to say as it would have been for her.

  “Yes,” she repeated, trying to read behind the open astonishment in his expression. “Is that okay?”

  He blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—it doesn’t bother you, does it? I know I’m older than most…well, you know…”

  “Virgins.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know why she was having so much trouble getting that out tonight. It had never particularly bothered her before. “I’ve waited because I wanted it to be right, and it wasn’t before,” she felt compelled to explain.

  Reed still looked a bit dazed. “But it feels right now?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said on an exhalation, her hand sliding down his chest to savor the feel of him. “It feels right now.”

  He didn’t say anything for a very long moment. And then he groaned. “Damn.”

  She started to ask what was wrong. Before she could get the words out, she found herself alone on the bed. Reed was halfway across the room. And he didn’t look as though he intended to come back.

  Celia raised herself unsteadily onto her elbows. “Reed?”

  “I was thinking about having a drink,” he said, opening the discreetly placed liquor cabinet provided by the resort. “Would you like one?”

  Celia stared at him. “A drink? Now?”

  He opened a miniature bottle and poured amber liquid into a glass tumbler. “Now seems like a real good time to me.”

  “But—”

  He tossed down the drink, set the empty tumbler on the cabinet top, ran a hand through his hair and finally turned back to face her. “I’ll put on a shirt and walk you back to your suite.”

  At first she’d been startled by his behavior, but now she was starting to get angry, an anger spurred by intense disappointment. She spoke slowly, deliberately. “What if I don’t want to go back to my suite?”

  Reed sighed. And then he walked to the side of the bed and touched her cheek. “You don’t understand.”

  She jerked away from his fingers, finding that her skin was still too sensitized for casual touches. A moment later she was on her feet, facing him defiantly as she rebuttoned her shirt. “You’re right,” she snapped. “I don’t understand. You’re throwing me out because you’ve learned that I’m a virgin?”

  It was easier to say that time; maybe because she was too mad to even be embarrassed by the intimacy.

  Reed shook his head. “I’m not throwing you out. I just don’t think this is the best time for us to go to bed together.”

  “You don’t think?” she repeated, her temper flaring even more in response to his overly patient tone. “And what about what I think?”

  He reached out and took her hands. “We were moving too fast, Celia. We’ve only known each other a few days. You need time.”

  Her chin went up. He sounded so much like her sister or her brother—and all those others who’d tried to convince her that they knew what was best for her.

  She tugged at her hands, but he tightened his grip. “Look,” she said, still tugging futilely, “if you don’t want to go to bed with a virgin—with me—just say so. But don’t give me this song and dance about it being for my own good!”

  He pulled her effortlessly back into his arms. And then he kissed her until she went limp against him, until she wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke had come out of her ears.

  “Don’t even suggest,” he said in a low growl, “that I don’t want you. I want you so much it’s eating me alive. I’ve wanted you from the first minute I saw you, damn it. So much that I almost…almost lost my head,” he finished, sounding as though he’d started to say something else and had changed his mind at the last minute.

  “Would it really be so bad to lose your head just once?” she asked wistfully, her cheek against his pounding heart. “Do you always have to be the careful, logical accountant, Reed?”

  He inhaled, his chest swelling against her. His hand tightened at the back of her head. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t quite steady. “This isn’t the right time, Celia. I’m sorry, but you have to trust me on this one.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything else she could say. She drew slowly away from him, her arms crossed in front of her. “Then I guess I’ll say good-night.”

  He reached for his shirt. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Damn it, Celia, I said I’d walk you back!” It was as close as he’d come to really losing his temper in front of her.

  Celia nodded stiffly, determined not to show him that his anger intimidated her a bit. Hurt pride and dull disappointment warred within her. She fought to hide both when she spoke. “If you insist.”

  He swiftly donned his shirt and shoes. Celia noted that he left his glasses lying on the nightstand, but she didn’t say anything about them. She assumed he could see well enough without them to walk her to her room.

  “Let’s go,” he said without looking at her.

  She nodded and followed him to the door.

  They crossed the compound in silence. A few others moved around them, but Celia made no effort to recognize anyone. No one else mattered to her just then. No one except the distant, complex man at her side.

  Reed checked the corridor that led to her suite, seeming relieved that it was empty. He walked her to the door and waited until she’d unlocked it before he spoke again. “I want you to go home, Celia. If you’ll agree, I’ll make the arrangements for you so that you can leave first thing in the morning. I have a few business matters to clear away, but then I’ll be in touch with you. I promise.”

  She could have screamed. “Why do you keep trying to send me home?” she demanded, barely remembering to keep her voice low.

  “Do you really blame me?” he demanded, swinging a hand toward Damien’s door. “You’re here with him.”

  “Oh,” she said, biting her lip.

  She should have realized that Reed would be bothered by those circumstances, being the kind of man he was. Was that the main reason he hadn’t made love to her tonight? Because she was here as the guest of another man? It made sense—or was her battered ego only grasping for straws?

  “I suppose I’ve been taking advantage of Damien’s hospitality,” she admitted. “But how could I have known I would meet you here? It’s not as though I came here expecting to meet anyone else.”

  Reed touched her cheek. “I know. I wasn’t prepared for you, either.”

  She covered his hand with her own, searching his unreadable expression. “I’m going to tell him tomorrow. And, if it makes you feel any better, I’m going to offer to reimburse him for my stay here. He probably won’t let me, but I feel as though I should offer, anyway.”


  Of course, she’d probably have to get a loan from the bank where she worked to cover the expenses, but she supposed it would be worth it.

  Reed was frowning again. “You don’t have to see him again. You could leave him a letter.”

  “I’ll do no such thing! I could never do anything so rude and ungrateful.”

  He made a face. “No, I suppose you couldn’t, at that. But, Celia, about Alexander—”

  A door opened abruptly down the hallway. Jim Bennett, Damien’s beefy security man, suddenly appeared. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Jim,” Celia assured him hastily. “Everything’s fine. Don’t wake Damien.”

  “Mr. Alexander is still in his office,” Bennett replied, looking suspiciously at Reed. “You want me to give him a message?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  Bennett nodded curtly, shot Reed one last glare, then disappeared again.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Reed said, nudging her into her room. “Get some rest. And, Celia—”

  “Yes?”

  He kissed her roughly. “Be careful.”

  He left before she could ask why he’d felt the need for that particular warning again. Something in his voice made her think he really was worried about something…but what? Damien’s possible reaction to her discussion with him? Surely not. Despite Damien’s exaggerated reputation, there had never been any hint that he was a violent man.

  Tired now, Celia locked her door and headed into the bathroom. She shook her head at the disheveled reflection in the beveled-edge mirror. She’d wanted excitement on this trip, and she was certainly finding it.

  So, how come she still felt like the world’s oldest living virgin?

  Disgruntledly shaking her head, she changed and climbed into bed. Alone. As usual.

  After briskly walking for almost an hour on the beach, Reed decided that maybe—just barely—he had himself under control enough to go to bed. He wasn’t expecting a good night’s sleep—not after sharing that bed so briefly and so unsatisfyingly with Celia—but maybe he’d get a few hours’ rest.

  He was going to need them.

  A virgin. He shoved his hand through his breeze-tossed hair and stared blindly out at the darkened horizon. How could he have known that Celia was so innocent?

  Oh, sure, there’d been moments when he’d suspected…but he’d always convinced himself he was an idiot to even consider the possibility. At her age, with her looks, her yearlong friendship with Damien Alexander—well, it just hadn’t seemed possible.

  “I’ve waited because I wanted it to be right, and it wasn’t before.”

  “But it feels right now?”

  “It feels right now.”

  He groaned as the conversation replayed itself in his head. He’d known then that he couldn’t make love to her. Not yet. Not with so many lies between them.

  Maybe he’d really known even before, when he’d opened his door to find her standing there looking so nervous and trying so hard to be breezy and nonchalant. It had taken a great deal of courage for her to come to him. A lot of trust.

  He had discovered that he couldn’t take advantage of either.

  A brief, humorless laugh escaped him. Funny, he’d never considered himself to be particularly noble, or selfless. He’d never wanted to be a candidate for sainthood. But tonight he’d known without question that Celia Carson deserved more than a quick tumble with a man who’d lied to her from the first time he’d spoken to her.

  He fully intended to be the one to give her everything she deserved. Everything he had to give. But, first, he had to tell her the truth. All of the truth.

  And then, somehow, he had to convince her to forgive him.

  He thought of her quick temper and winced. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  He turned and headed quickly toward the resort. He really needed to get some rest if he was going to be on his toes the next day.

  Someone spoke from the shadows just as he reached the walkway beside his building. “I wondered if you were coming back tonight.”

  The familiar murmur made Reed frown as he squinted to see the dark form that blended so well with the landscaping. “Kyle? What are you doing out here at this hour?”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Let’s just say, I wanted to make sure you came back in one piece. Taking a big chance tonight, weren’t you?”

  Reassured that nothing was wrong—at least, not seriously—Reed sighed wearily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know damned well what I’m talking about.” For the first time, Kyle sounded angry, though the conversation was carried on in cautious whispers. “We have a job to do, Reed. The guys we’re after play hardball. What do you think will happen to you if Alexander finds out you’re fooling around with his playmate while you’re waiting to catch him red-handed in a gun swap?”

  Reed immediately became defensive. “Alexander’s busy tonight. He doesn’t even know I’ve been with Celia.”

  “You don’t think his bodyguard will tell him he saw you together outside her room?”

  Realizing that Kyle must have been watching him all evening, Reed scowled furiously. “Damn it, where were you? And why were you spying on me?”

  His partner responded in a heated whisper. “You’re risking everything, Reed! Perrelli’s here, Novotny’s here, Alexander’s finally here—everything is in place for the exchange we’ve been expecting for weeks. One wrong move on our part, even the slightest reason for one of them to get nervous and call the whole thing off, and we’ve blown weeks of work. Do you want that to happen because you’ve started thinking with your gonads instead of your head? Are you trying to screw up the whole deal just to keep one PYT out of jail?”

  “She’s not involved with this, damn it! And stop calling her—”

  “Will you keep your voice down!” Kyle hissed, reminding Reed that they were hardly in an ideal place for a conference.

  Reed managed to rein in his temper. “I’m going to bed,” he said evenly. “We’ll finish this tomorrow. But get one thing straight. Celia isn’t a part of this. She’s an innocent bystander—a civilian—and we’re keeping her out of it. If you do one thing to jeopardize her safety, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Kyle challenged, as coldly as Reed.

  “I’ll quit.”

  There was a long, tense pause. When Kyle spoke, it was in a different tone. “You’ve fallen that hard?”

  “I’ve fallen that hard,” Reed replied evenly, and without embarrassment.

  Kyle took a sharp breath, then let it out slowly. “All right. I’ll do what I can to help you. But I hope to God you’re right about her, Hollander.”

  “I’m right.” Reed had never been more certain of anything in his life.

  Without another word, Kyle vanished noiselessly, expertly into the shadows. Reed went to his room.

  He spent a very long, restless night, remembering the way Celia had looked, the way she’d felt, the way she’d responded when he’d had her beneath him for that all too short time.

  The maître d’ was busy with another guest when Celia arrived in the restaurant the next morning. She was greeted, instead, by her favorite waiter. “Good morning, Mike,” she said with a smile.

  His own smile was bright, friendly, natural—a nice contrast to the fake smirks the overly efficient maître d’had perfected. “Good morning, Ms. Carson. Are you joining Mr. Alexander’s party for breakfast?”

  “His party?” Celia repeated. She had thought Damien would be waiting for her alone.

  She peeked into the dining room and saw that Damien sat at a large table in one corner with Mark, Evan, Maris, Enrique and two other people she didn’t know, but recognized as employees of the resort. Damien was talking, the others were listening intently.

  “That looks like a business meeting,” Celia said, moving back a step. “I don’t think I’ll interrupt.�
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  “Mr. Alexander assured us that you were to be brought to his table when you arrived,” Mike said.

  Celia shook her head. “I’d rather—”

  “—have breakfast with me.” Reed stepped smoothly to her side and finished the sentence for her.

  Celia smiled up at him, hoping their interested observer couldn’t tell that her heart rate had just gone into double time. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” A total stranger could surely hear the special warmth in Reed’s voice, would probably recognize the seductive glint in his hazel eyes, even behind the lenses of his glasses.

  Celia, of course, didn’t miss either. Her breathing accelerated along with her pulse. Why couldn’t he look at her like this when they were alone, darn it? When she could do something about it?

  Mike was watching them with a grin that he hastily suppressed when she glanced at him. “I could show you to a table for two,” he suggested. “Or—”

  He glanced around them and lowered his voice. “There’s a great little place just a short way down the beach. The Sandcastle. Flakiest pastries on the island—but don’t tell anyone I said so, of course.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Reed said promptly, and held out a hand to Celia. “Shall we?”

  Celia looked from him to Damien, who was still absorbed in his meeting and hadn’t seen her. She was torn between what she felt obligated to do, and what she wanted to do. For one of the few times in her life, self-interest won out over deeply ingrained Southern manners. “I’d love to,” she said, and placed her hand in Reed’s.

  She felt like a student slipping away from school in the middle of the day. She giggled as they stepped outside.

  Tucking her hand into his arm, Reed led her toward the beach walk. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” she said, curling her fingers into his forearm. “I’m just…happy.”

  Okay, so she wasn’t exactly being subtle about her feelings for him. She figured it was already too late for that. And there was so little time left before she had to go back to her real life. Would Reed still be a part of her life after this vacation ended? She’d wondered, and worried, about that for half the night. And she’d always arrived at the same conclusion.