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“No, I really don’t know about older siblings. I was an only child.”
“Your parents’ pride and joy, I’d bet,” Celia teased, relieved to turn the conversation away from herself.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, they did give you this vacation. Quite a nice birthday present.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Have you ever been married?”
Reed seemed startled by the question. “No. Why?”
Celia shrugged. “I know less about you than you do about me now. Only that you’re a tax accountant from Cleveland and that you like history. What else would I find interesting?”
“Nothing much,” Reed answered self-deprecatingly. “I live a quiet life, on the whole. I have a few good friends with whom I socialize, and a job I enjoy. I like to read and visit museums and historical sites, as you already know. I do a little wood carving, but I’m not very good at it. Just an average sort of guy, I guess.”
Celia almost sighed. An average sort of guy. Just as she’d suspected.
She wondered if any of his “few good friends” were women. She wondered if there was any woman who was an especially good friend. She wondered why she couldn’t seem to stop wondering.
“You’ve never been married, either, I take it?” Reed asked after their entrées had been placed in front of them.
“No. Not even close.” He probably wouldn’t believe how little experience she’d actually had with men.
And all because she’d been waiting so long for one who was so much more than “average.”
She suddenly discovered that she wasn’t quite as hungry as she’d thought when she’d placed her order. She picked up her fork and made a determined effort to eat, telling herself she was being silly.
What possible reason could there be for her to suddenly feel restless and discontented? As though there was something she needed, but couldn’t quite name. And it was especially foolish for her to think that Reed Hollander could do anything about it.
Celia was just beginning to regain her equilibrium when Reed asked, from seemingly out of the blue, “How long have you known Damien Alexander?”
Again, Celia felt herself growing self-conscious, and inexplicably anxious to clarify her relationship with Damien. “Almost a year now. We met when he started coming into the bank where I work. He’s thinking about building a new resort near Percy, and he wants to involve the local businesses as much as possible.”
“An Alexander resort in Percy, Arkansas?” Reed sounded skeptical. “Forgive me, but that wouldn’t have been a location I would have expected.”
“I know. Everyone’s been surprised that he’s even considering the possibility. But it makes sense the way Damien explains it. The area is really beautiful—unspoiled, natural, with several beautiful lakes and rivers available for water sports, lots of golf courses, and mountainsides for hiking and hang gliding. It’s reasonably close to Little Rock and Memphis for shopping and dining, only a couple of hours away from the riverboat casinos in Tunica, Mississippi, and from Branson, Missouri for the music shows that are so popular now. Damien says it’s a location with a great deal of potential.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Reed conceded. “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”
“You’ve never been to the area,” she pointed out. “Arkansas has a lot more to offer than most people suspect—or than the national press has led them to believe, lately.”
“Is that why you’ve stayed so close to home? Because you love the area?”
“That, and to be close to my sister and brother,” she replied. “But lately…”
“Lately…?” Reed urged when she fell quiet.
She shrugged. “Lately I’ve realized that there are a lot of other places to see and experience.”
“Places Damien Alexander could show you?”
Celia couldn’t quite read Reed’s expression. He looked suddenly distant, disapproving. Much like Rachel did whenever she mentioned Damien. And Celia reacted the same way with Reed that she did with Rachel. Defensively.
“Damien and I are friends. We have dinner together when he’s in town, see an occasional show in Little Rock, talk on the phone occasionally when he’s busy at his other resorts. When I told him I’d heard about this area and had always wanted to see it, he asked me here as his guest. We’re hardly trotting the globe together just because I’m visiting one of his smaller resorts.”
“Don’t be so prickly. I was just making conversation.”
Celia cut irritably into her fish. “I wasn’t being prickly. I was just…explaining.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“I’m well aware of that.” She avoided his eyes as she concentrated on her dinner.
They picked up the conversation a few minutes later. They kept it light, impersonal, and carefully avoided any mention of Damien Alexander.
After dinner, Reed asked again if Celia would like to take a walk on the beach with him. Maybe visit the lounge, which provided live music for dancing on weekends.
Standing beside him on the path outside the restaurant, Celia hesitated, wistfully replaying her earlier fantasy. And then she shook her head. “I have a few calls to make this evening. Thank you for going sightseeing with me, Reed. I had a very nice afternoon.”
“So did I. I’m glad you kidnapped me.”
She smiled. “Good night.”
“Would you like me to walk you to your room?”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
He nodded, not bothering to argue. “Then I’ll see you around.”
“Yes, of course. Good night,” she repeated, and turned away. Reed made no effort to detain her.
As she walked alone to her elegant suite, she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t wanted anything more from this evening. Or from Reed Hollander.
Her life was complicated enough at the moment.
Chapter Four
Reed ended up walking the beach alone after discreetly making sure that Celia did, indeed, return to her rooms after dinner.
He stayed right at the edge of the gently lapping Gulf waters, his shoes sinking slightly into the wet sand beneath them. He was aware of the fragrance of nearby flowers, the taste of salt in the steady breeze, the sounds of the waves and the glow of full moonlight. He knew he wasn’t the only one out enjoying the evening, but the few others kept to themselves, reinforcing the illusion of solitude.
He was well aware that, had he been a bit more tactful with Celia, he wouldn’t be walking alone.
He shouldn’t have sounded so judgmental when they’d talked about Damien Alexander. Celia had already claimed the guy as her friend; was, after all, here as Alexander’s guest. Reed had already known she became defensive about him. But still, he’d found himself going cold and stiff when Alexander’s name came up, and Celia had obviously noticed.
Real smooth, Hollander.
His job was to observe, not to form judgments. He was supposed to subtly pump Celia for useful information, something he had no hope of doing if his behavior set her guard up. Celia wasn’t going to let anything slip about Alexander running illegal shipments of stolen military weapons if she was too busy depicting him as just a nice, upstanding guy who’d been viciously maligned by the gossip sheets.
Reed was having one hell of a time getting a handle on her. She’d admitted that she’d been bored, restless with her sheltered, small-town life, which could indicate that she’d turn to the quick money and exciting subterfuge to be found by cooperating with Alexander. Yet he’d seen how uncomfortable she’d been here for the past few days, even with Alexander’s entire staff all but standing on their heads to please her.
She hadn’t asked for special treatment, hadn’t ordered the most expensive items from the restaurant menu, even though it had been made clear that her meals were on the house. She hadn’t even visited the expensive gift shop, at least not that Reed had seen.
She’d spent the entire afternoon with him, touring historical sites. And she’d seemed as happy eating hamburgers as she was with Alexander’s gourmet cuisine, as comfortable playing miniature golf as lounging by the resort pool. Why? Because she really was bored, lonely, feeling out of place?
Or—he scowled—was it possible that he’d somehow raised suspicions? That Celia had been instructed to find out more about him, the same way he was trying to find out more about her? Had she been pumping him for information when she’d asked questions about him, rather than displaying any personal interest?
The possibility made his fists clench.
Damn it, he should have thought of it before.
Not that he’d told her anything she shouldn’t know, of course. His fascination with her hadn’t made him that careless.
Movement from his left caught his attention. Without turning his head, he checked it out. A couple stood beneath a scraggly palm tree, locked together, mouths fused, hands roaming. Reed turned his eyes forward and kept walking. And continued to think of Celia.
Celia woke early again Saturday morning, facing another day with nothing in particular to do. Though she’d spent the evening before telling herself to stay away from Reed Hollander in order to avoid any unwanted complications, she found herself thinking of him before she’d even finished her shower. She knew he, too, would be at loose ends today. He would probably be agreeable to spending time with her again.
“Some liberated woman you are,” she grumbled at the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman in the bathroom mirror. “Can’t you have a good time all by yourself?”
But the problem was, she couldn’t. Celia just wasn’t a loner.
She could find someone else to spend the day with, of course. Yesterday morning she’d chatted for a few minutes with two middle-aged sisters who were vacationing together, and who’d hinted that they wouldn’t mind if she joined them for a shopping jaunt into Mexico or a couple of hours bird-watching on the untamed central section of Padre Island. She’d probably have a very nice time with them.
Of course, she’d had a very nice time with Reed yesterday.
Shaking her head in frustration at her own behavior, she did her makeup, dressed quickly in a navy-and-white, blouse-and-skort outfit, and brushed her hair into a gleaming, straight curtain to her shoulders. She was hungry, she decided. She would think about her plans for the day during breakfast.
She was detained twice on her way to the restaurant. She had hardly left her building before she crossed paths with Enrique Torres, who greeted her warmly and then tried to talk her into joining him and his wife for an afternoon of local sightseeing. Celia graciously declined, fibbing that she’d already made plans for the afternoon.
Torres was frowning worriedly when Celia walked away; she wondered if he suspected that she would be spending another day with Reed. And if he did, why should he care? Surely Damien didn’t expect the resort manager to chaperone any women friends who happened to be at the resort without Damien!
Celia had taken only a few more steps toward the restaurant when the resort social director, Mindi Kellogg, all but chased her down from across the common, calling her name in a shrill voice. “Miss Carson! Miss Carson!”
Celia paused reluctantly, aware of a faint grumble of protest from her stomach. “Yes?”
“I want to personally invite you to join a group of us for an excursion this afternoon. It’s going to be so much fun. We’re visiting the University of Texas–Pan American Coastal Studies Laboratory at Isla Blanca Park to see the aquariums and the shell collection. From there we’ll be stopping at Sea Turtle, Inc. to learn about endangered sea turtles. It’s a fascinating afternoon, I can assure you. One of our most popular activities.”
“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Celia said, “but—”
“If that doesn’t interest you, we have a shuttle that will take you to Matamoros, Mexico. It’s only a thirty-minute trip. Have you been, yet?”
“No, I—”
The blonde grinned and patted Celia’s arm. “Oh, you’d love it. The markets are fascinating, and the museums are very interesting.”
“Thank you, Mindi, but I—”
“Or perhaps you’d rather take a guided horseback tour of the island. The stables provide a—”
“No, thank you,” Celia interrupted, trying to speak firmly without actually being rude. She was growing increasingly irritated by the staff’s efforts to keep her occupied. She didn’t like feeling as though her actions were being monitored, her choices limited. “It’s very nice of you to offer, but I have other plans for today.”
“But, Miss Carson, we—”
“Celia.” A familiar deep voice overrode Mindi’s squeak of protest. A large, warm hand fell on Celia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m late. Must have overslept. Are you ready for breakfast?”
Celia looked up gratefully, meeting Reed’s sympathetic smile. “Yes, I’m starving,” she said fervently.
He nodded to the openmouthed social director. “Good morning, Miss Kellogg. Nice day, isn’t it?”
He left her sputtering an answer as he all but towed Celia toward the restaurant.
“You looked as though you were in need of rescue,” he said before Celia could speak, as soon as they were out of the social director’s hearing. “What was she trying to do, sign you up for a talent show or something? A bungee jumping tournament?”
“No, she wanted to introduce me to endangered sea turtles or take me shopping in Mexico,” Celia corrected ruefully. “I’m sure both would be interesting, but—”
“But not with Mindi standing on the sidelines cheering you on, right?”
“She is a bit cheerleaderish. I’m sure she means well, though,” Celia added quickly, feeling guilty for making fun of the other woman.
“Too perky for my tastes,” Reed said with a shake of his dark head. “All that bubbly energy and enthusiasm makes my teeth hurt.”
Celia giggled. “I was trying to be nice,” she reproved him.
He shrugged. “I’d rather eat. Are you really starving, or was that just an excuse?”
“No, I’m really hungry. I was just on my way to breakfast.”
“There’s no reason for us to eat alone, is there?”
She hesitated, and looked up to find him watching her with an intentness that belied his light tone. Since she couldn’t think of any good reason why they shouldn’t have breakfast together—none she could have explained, anyway—she smiled and shook her head. “No.”
Reed looked pleased with her answer.
Reed seemed to go out of his way to be entertaining during their leisurely breakfast, and he succeeded. Celia found herself forgetting her reservations and chatting with him as easily as an old friend.
They had almost finished their meal before she realized how closely they were being watched.
The staff was being discreet—sort of. They weren’t exactly staring at Celia and Reed. But they were watching, and Celia wondered if this shift had been told that she and Reed had been together for dinner last evening. Were they speculating whether she and Reed had spent the entire night together?
The only restaurant employee who didn’t seem overly curious was their waiter, a good-looking young African-American with an engaging smile. The service he gave them was nothing more than briskly professional—which was a great relief since Celia was so painfully aware of the more open curiosity from the others.
This was getting ridiculous. She was not the personal property of Damien Alexander, despite what his staff might think. Or was she being completely paranoid?
She looked across the table. “I need to get away from this place today, Reed. Are you interested?”
“Tired of being the center of attention?”
She widened her eyes. “You’ve noticed it, too? That everyone seems to be watching us? I thought—I hoped I was imagining it.”
He shook his head. “You aren’t imagining it.”
“I don’t know why they’re doing this. It’s not as though I’m all that interesting.”
“They’re guarding the boss’s interests,” Reed explained with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She frowned. “That’s stupid. Damien and I aren’t—we haven’t even—we’re only friends,” she concluded awkwardly, wondering how many times she had to repeat it. And whether Reed believed her any more than anyone else seemed to.
Reed studied her for what felt like a long time. And then his smile deepened, becoming just a shade more genuine. “Where would you like to go?”
“Anywhere,” she said in quick relief. “How far are we from San Antonio?”
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