A Match for Celia

by Gina Wilkins

  Celia was startled. “How did you know who I had breakfast with this morning?”

  “Never mind that. Are you dumping me for him?”

  She frowned at his uncharacteristically belligerent tone. “I’m hardly dumping you, Damien. There’s never been anything more than friendship between us. One doesn’t dump a friend. As for Reed—well, that remains to be seen.”

  “And it’s none of my business,” he interpreted.

  “Right,” she said, though she spoke gently.

  He covered her hand with his own. “I’m sorry, Celia. I certainly don’t mean to pry into your business. I’m just disappointed. I had hoped that you and I…well. You know.”

  “Oh, Damien.” She rested her head against his arm for a moment, touched by the look in his eyes. “You know it wouldn’t have worked out. I’m much too traditional for you. Within a few weeks you’d have been off looking for much more exciting companionship. You know you don’t want to tie yourself down to one woman when there are so many waiting to go out with you.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he conceded, a bit reluctantly. “Still, it might have been different this time. For once, I could almost understand the appeal of that old one-man, one-woman thing.”

  “You can’t even say it without shuddering,” she accused him, not quite accurately. Actually, he had sounded more sincere than she’d ever heard him.

  Surely Damien hadn’t really been thinking of permanence with her! She’d never even imagined that he’d wanted more from her that a lighthearted affair—which, to be honest, was all she’d ever envisioned having with him. That, of course, had been before she’d forced herself to accept that she just wasn’t the “lighthearted affair” type. Something her sister had told her all along.

  “You know me very well, don’t you, love?” Damien said, more lightly now. If his feelings really were seriously injured, he hid it well. Celia was relieved that he’d made it that easy for her. She suspected that she’d bruised his ego worse than his heart. He would recover quickly, if he suffered at all.

  At least, she hoped that was the case. She didn’t like the idea that she’d hurt someone she considered a friend.

  He motioned her toward the overstuffed sofa against one pecan-panelled wall. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as he stepped behind the well-stocked bar on the far wall and tossed ice cubes into a tumbler for himself.

  “Just fruit juice, if you have it,” Celia said, taking a seat on the couch.

  She watched as he poured bourbon for himself and the juice for her.

  He carried both over to the couch, and sat beside her. “So,” he said briskly, “tell me about this guy Hollander. What do you know about him?”

  “I thought we just agreed that this wasn’t your business,” she reminded him with a smile.

  “Humor me. We’re friends, remember?” He gave an ironic twist to the word friends. “I’m feeling responsible. If you hadn’t come here at my invitation, and if I hadn’t stood you up for almost a week, you never would have met the guy. I’ll never forgive myself if he turns out to be a con artist or a lowlife.”

  “No self-respecting con artist would run a scam on me,” Celia said with a laugh. “What would he hope to gain? I told him from the beginning that I work as an assistant loan officer in a small-town bank. He surely doesn’t think I’m rolling in money.”

  “He knows you’re a friend of mine,” Damien corrected her. “And, as you pointed out, I am…er…obscenely rich. Suppose he’s using you to get to me in some way.”

  “He isn’t,” Celia said flatly. “Reed isn’t interested in your money, Damien. It has bothered him very much that I’m here as your guest. Neither of us wanted to take advantage of your hospitality.

  “In fact,” she added, remembering something else she’d wanted to discuss with Damien, “I insist that you have your staff bill me for the time I’ve spent here. It’s only right.”

  Damien was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “Absolutely not.”

  “Now, Damien—”

  “Not another word about it, Celia,” he said warningly. “I invited you here as my guest. Because I care for you, not simply to get you into my bed—though that would have been nice,” he added with an exaggerated wistfulness that made her smile. “I just hope you’ve had a nice time, despite the series of misfortunes that kept us separated during most of your visit.”

  “It’s been wonderful,” she assured him. “And, Damien—it wouldn’t have made any difference if you’d been here,” she felt compelled to add. “I think I knew even when I left Percy that you and I would never be—well, you know.”

  “I know,” he said glumly. “Why do you think I haven’t pushed harder for more than a good-night kiss at your door? Why do you think I’ve been working so hard to avoid this ‘little talk’? I was sort of hoping you’d change your mind after you’d had a few more days to bask in my charm.”

  She giggled.

  He exhaled deeply. “Would you mind changing the subject, sweetheart? My ego’s taken just about all the damage it can handle for one morning.”

  Celia smiled affectionately at him. “Don’t worry, Damien. I’m sure your ego will make a full and fast recovery. If nothing else, Mark’s little friend Kimmi would just love to play nurse-maid to your wounded sensibilities.”

  Damien perked up a bit at that. “He is rather ignoring her, isn’t he? Poor kid is probably feeling terribly neglected.”

  “I’m sure she is. Do you think Mark would mind too badly if you stepped in for him?”

  Damien grinned. “Mark is paid not to mind that sort of thing.”

  Celia rolled her eyes. “What was that I said about you never abusing your power? I take it back.”

  “Now, Celia—”

  “Now, Damien—”

  They laughed together. And, if the laughter was a bit strained now, they both pretended not to notice.

  They chatted politely for another half hour. And then Celia stood, judging the time to be right. “I’ll let you get back to work. You looked quite busy when I came in.”

  “I had planned on letting the rest go and spend the day with you,” he answered. “But—”

  “Take care of your work, Damien,” she said gently. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he agreed, and his voice was a bit harder than usual. He masked it quickly with one of his bright smiles. “So, how long will you be staying? Still planning to go back to Arkansas Friday?”

  Two more days, Celia thought with a quick surge of dismay. Would she and Reed be saying goodbye then? “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “My plans are rather vague at the moment.”

  Damien nodded. “Stay as long as you like,” he said. “The invitation still stands for the full duration.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. You’re a very sweet man, did you know that?”

  He rolled his eyes. “There goes that ‘favorite uncle’ tone again. I have to tell you, Celia, I’m just not used to having beautiful young women talk to me quite that way. I can’t say that I like it.”

  “I’ll work on it,” she promised with a smile.

  “I’d appreciate it. So, how would you and your new friend like to join me for dinner this evening? I’d like to meet the guy.”

  Celia was startled. She wasn’t at all sure how Reed would feel about having dinner with Damien. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it, herself.

  “I’ll ask him,” she temporized.

  Damien nodded. “I just want to talk to him. I’ve always been a good judge of character, you know. I wouldn’t be where I am if I weren’t. If I sense any reason at all to worry about this guy, if there’s the slightest chance that he’ll hurt you, I’ll—I’ll—well, I’ll do something about it,” he promised flatly.

  “Now you sound like a favorite uncle,” Celia accused him in mild exasperation. “Don’t you start overprotecting me, Damien. It really just isn’t in char
acter for you.”

  “You might be surprised,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek. And then he escorted her to the door with a bit too much haste.

  Celia dialed Reed’s room number when she returned to her suite. She half expected the line to be busy, since he’d been so concerned about the calls he needed to make. Instead, the phone rang several times on the other end before she finally conceded he wasn’t in his room.

  Now what? she wondered. Should she go looking for him? Or wait here, as he’d asked—make that, as he’d ordered her.

  Because she was growing increasingly tired of taking orders, she decided to go out. She glanced in the mirror to make sure her loose, oatmeal-colored top and slacks were still neat. She decided she looked a bit colorless. Her restless night and her difficult talk with Damien had left her rather pale.

  She dug in her bag for a bright scarf—a favorite silk one that her grandmother had given her for her birthday. She brushed her hair, pulled it back and tied it at the nape with the colorful strip of fabric. The patterned scarf seemed to add color to her face. Satisfied with her appearance, she headed determinedly for the door.

  Reed would soon learn that she wasn’t an inanimate object to be stashed in her room until he had time to play with her.

  It was past lunchtime. Perhaps Reed was in the restaurant, she thought. She wasn’t checking up on him, she assured herself somberly. She just wanted to tell him that she’d been completely honest with Damien. That he needn’t feel now as though they were slipping around behind their host’s back.

  The officious maître d’ greeted Celia in the restaurant lobby. “Miss Carson. Table for one, or will Mr. Alexander be joining you?”

  “No. Actually, I’m looking for Mr. Hollander. Have you seen him?”

  The man’s thin eyebrows rose. “No. He hasn’t been in.”

  Disappointed, she nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Shall I show you to a table?”

  “No, thank you.” She stepped back and allowed an elderly couple to take her place. The maître d’ greeted them by name and ushered them solicitously to a table.

  “Hi, Ms. Carson. Joining us for lunch today?”

  Celia glanced around to find Mike Smith emerging from the employee door, buttoning his neat white jacket as he approached her, obviously just beginning a shift. “No, I’m not hungry,” she said. “I was trying to find Reed—Mr. Hollander. Have you seen him, Mike?”

  “Not since the two of you left for breakfast this morning,” Mike replied. His dark eyes searched her face. “Is anything wrong, Ms. Carson?”

  “No.” She forced a smile. “I’ve just misplaced him, that’s all.”

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure he will.”

  “Want me to tell him you’re looking for him, if I see him?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Celia didn’t bother looking in the health club or bar. Reed had never shown any more interest than she in either facility. She did check the pool, thinking he might be sitting under an umbrella with one of his history books. He wasn’t. Nor did she see him at the tennis courts or the koi pond.

  She looked thoughtfully at the long, flat expanse of beach spreading out beyond the resort. For just a moment, she longed for the wooded hills of home. How could anyone live without trees and grass and hills? she thought, studying all that flat, grayish-white sand and the painstakingly planted grass leading up to it.

  She wondered if there were trees and grass and hills where Reed lived? Or did he live in the city, surrounded by concrete and high rises? And if so, would he want Celia to live there with him eventually? Could she adapt?

  She could certainly try.

  She continued her search for him. She wasn’t at all pleased when she finally spotted him.

  He was sitting on a secluded bench beneath two obviously transplanted and rather sickly-looking palm trees at the very edge of the Alexander’s property. He wasn’t alone. The glamourous redhead was sitting beside him—very closely beside him. Their heads were close together, their gazes locked as they talked in voices much too low for Celia to hear.

  She stopped dead in her tracks behind them. She knew neither of them had noticed her. They were much too intent on each other.

  She thought of marching up to them and breezily introducing herself to the woman, acting as if Reed should have been expecting her to join him, but something held her back. Maybe it was the way they were talking—they didn’t look as though they wanted to be interrupted.

  Celia’s temper flared. Was this Reed’s idea of making some important calls? This was the reason he’d had to rush away from her this morning? He’d actually expected her to wait alone in her room while he snuggled on a bench with another woman?

  She was still watching when the redhead said something that made Reed scowl. And then he shook his head and laughed, looking ruefully amused.

  He put an arm around the woman’s shoulders then and gave her a hug. One she returned with an enthusiasm that made Celia absolutely furious.

  Without waiting to see more, Celia turned on one heel and hurried away. She was half tempted to call Damien and politely ask him to please have Reed beaten up. She suspected that Damien would happily agree.

  She didn’t call Damien, of course. That would have been childish. Instead, she headed away from the resort, just as fast as she could put the place—and all its accompanying confusion—behind her.

  It was early evening when Celia returned to her suite. She’d spent the day keeping busy, utilizing the island trolley system, whimsically dubbed “The Wave,” to take her to the tourist places Mindi Kellogg had tried to talk her into seeing before. The University of Texas–Pan American Coastal Studies Laboratories, with its aquariums and extensive shell collection, Sea Turtle, Inc., the Sea Ranch Marina. It wasn’t that she’d particularly wanted to visit those places alone, but she had needed the time to think.

  Everything had been happening so fast. She needed time to put the past few days into perspective. Had she really fallen in love with a man she hardly knew? Was she really willing to take a huge risk like that with someone who could hurt her worse than she’d ever imagined?

  By the end of the day, she had an all-new appreciation for fascinating sea creatures, particularly those of the flippered persuasion, but she hadn’t resolved her feelings for Reed. She couldn’t say for certain that what she felt for him was love—but she couldn’t quite convince herself it wasn’t, either.

  Needing a chance to freshen up and bolster her courage before facing him again, she slipped unnoticed into her building and tiptoed down the empty hallway, almost as though he could somehow hear her if she wasn’t careful. She unlocked her door, stepped into the sitting room, then closed and bolted the door behind her.

  And then she turned to find Reed standing in the bedroom doorway, watching her with an expression that could have been carved of hard, relentless stone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Celia placed a hand to her throat, where her heart seemed to be hanging at the moment. “How did you get in here? You scared me half to death!”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Reed demanded, ignoring her question. “I’ve torn this damned resort apart looking for you.”

  “I’ve been out.”

  “You weren’t with Alexander. He’s been in his office all day.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been watching him, too?”

  “Damn it, Celia, I want to know where you’ve been!”

  “Why should you care?” she challenged, facing him defiantly. “It’s not as if you’ve been waiting alone for me!”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She tilted her chin. She was tired and grubby and hungry, and in no mood to discuss the gorgeous redhead before she’d had a chance to freshen up. “I want to take a shower,” she said, trying to speak in a “royalty dismissing the staff” tone. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  He moved
so fast that her heart jumped into her throat again. His hands gripped her forearms with a force that was just short of painful. His dark eyes burned angrily into hers. “Where were you, Celia?”

  “I was out,” she snapped. “Sightseeing. Now let go of me.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “No,” she answered recklessly. “There was a whole busload of people with me. Are you satisfied?”

  “Why did you leave? I told you to wait for me here.”

  “I know you told me to wait. I chose not to. Who the hell do you think you are anyway? I—”

  Whatever else she might have yelled at him was smothered beneath his angry kiss.

  She stiffened, shoving futilely against him. She’d be damned if she’d be manhandled this way! Oddly enough, she wasn’t frightened of Reed. Just completely furious.

  And then he did something that disarmed her temper as effectively as a bucket of cold water. He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her hair and said in a notably unsteady voice, “Oh God, Celia, I’ve been so worried about you. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  Utterly astonished, Celia went limp against him. Reed had been worried about her? So worried that his hands shook now as they stroked her back? “Reed? I don’t understand. Why were you so worried?”

  “I didn’t know where you were,” he answered, drawing back to search her face, as though looking for injuries. “The last I knew you were headed for your room. And then you disappeared for hours. I heard you’d gone into Alexander’s office, but no one knew what happened to you after that.”

  “Did you ask Damien?” Celia asked, hoping he hadn’t gotten Damien worried, as well.

  Reed shook his head. “I was just about to go after him. Five more minutes and I would have stormed his office and demanded to know what he’d done with you.”

  “Reed, I can’t believe you’re overreacting this way. Why are you so quick to suspect that Damien would do anything to harm me? Why can’t you believe that he’s really a very nice man?”