by Gina Wilkins
“Mmm?” She sounded half asleep, though her eyes were open.
“When were you planning to go home?”
“I’ve got another week of vacation,” she murmured. “I hadn’t really intended to spend two full weeks here, but of course I didn’t know Damien would be called away so quickly. I considered leaving this weekend, but Damien wants me to stay a few more days.”
Reed felt the muscles tense at the back of his neck. He really hated the way Celia said the other guy’s name in such a comfortably familiar manner. “I’m sure he was disappointed that he couldn’t be here with you this past week,” he said noncommittally.
“He said he was. I understood, though. As I pointed out to him, there was no way he could have predicted the storm that hit his resort in the Caribbean. I’m sure he assumes I’ve been having a great time relaxing and being pampered by his staff at the resort.”
“He doesn’t know you very well if he thinks you’d be content for long to sit around doing nothing.” Reed couldn’t help pointing it out.
Celia shrugged. “He doesn’t know me that well, actually. We met some time ago, but we haven’t spent much time together. One of the purposes of this visit was so that we could get to know each other better.”
“Testing the waters, as it were?” he asked, keeping his tone bland.
There was a short silence before she answered. “Just getting to know each other better,” she repeated, a bit curtly.
He told himself to shut up. Reminded himself that his only interest in Celia’s relationship with Alexander was a professional one. And still he heard himself saying, “I think you should go home, Celia. Tomorrow, preferably.”
She turned her head to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”
Cursing himself for a fool, he doggedly continued, “Alexander isn’t your type. He goes through pretty young women like you the way some people devour a can of peanuts.”
Celia groaned loudly. “Not you, too. I would have thought that you, at least, would be above believing gossip and rumors.”
“You have to admit the guy lives in the fast lane, Celia. He isn’t like the people you know back home in Percy. This isn’t just an average, ordinary Joe we’re talking about.”
“I know he isn’t average and ordinary,” Celia retorted heatedly. “That’s one of the things I like most about him!”
Reed exhaled in frustration. “Look, I know this is none of my business—”
“You’re right,” she cut in flatly. “It isn’t. Damien is my friend, Reed. I like him. And I don’t think it’s right of you to put him down when he isn’t here to defend himself—especially when you’re driving his car!”
That effectively silenced him. Reed tightened his hands on the steering wheel and stared grimly at the road ahead. The road to Damien Alexander’s resort.
After a few minutes, Celia reached out to touch Reed’s arm, startling him. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you’re only concerned about me—the same way my family is, I suppose. But you should all realize that I’m old enough to know what I’m doing, and to take care of myself. I’m not under any delusions about Damien. I know exactly what he is, but I like him. He’s my friend. Okay?”
“I’m sorry I interfered,” Reed answered stiffly.
“Don’t sulk, Reed. You’re my friend, too, and we’ve had such a lovely day. Don’t spoil it, please.”
He sighed and patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “Sorry. I won’t say any more about it.”
“I appreciate it. I have enough mother hens watching out for me, Reed. I really don’t need another one.”
It was the first time in his life Reed had been called a “mother hen.” And he found that he hated it.
There was nothing familial about his growing feelings for Celia. Nothing rational, or cautious, or calculated. He wanted her, regardless of whether or not she’d been sleeping with Damien Alexander. He was even losing interest in how deeply she might have been involved with the arrangements for the weapons sale. Trying to find excuses for her—her youth, her naïveté, her vulnerability.
That was the sort of thinking that had gotten friends killed. The kind that could get him killed if he didn’t stop it.
He shot a sideways look at Celia. She had laid her head back on the seat and was looking pensively out the wind-shield. She looked tired. A little sad. Sweet.
You’re an idiot, Hollander. A thick-skulled, hormone-driven, prize-winning idiot. And if Kyle knew about this, you’d never hear the end of it.
The thought of his cynical, blunt-spoken partner made him look sharply forward again. He spent the remainder of the drive reminding himself that he had a job to do. When it ended, he would never see Celia Carson again. He would do well to keep that in mind.
Celia was asleep by the time they reached the resort, had been for almost an hour. Reed roused her gently, then half led, half carried her to her door. She gave him a sleepy smile as he slipped the key into the lock. “I had a very nice time today, Reed,” she murmured, sounding like a schoolgirl coming home from a movie date. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He pushed the door open and nudged her through. He shot a quick look around the sitting room, taking in the quiet elegance. Alexander provided very well for his special guests, he couldn’t help thinking grimly.
Celia stood in the center of the luxurious room, swaying a bit on her feet. “It’s very late, isn’t it?”
“Very. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Will you be having breakfast?”
“Probably.”
“Maybe I’ll sleep late,” she said around a yawn.
He smiled. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“What about you? Aren’t you tired?”
“Like I said, I don’t need much sleep.” He tilted her chin up with one hand and studied her lightly flushed, heavy-eyed face. “Good night, Celia. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Reed.” She smiled up at him, trustingly.
Too trustingly.
Deciding he was getting rather tired of being treated like a big brother, Reed bent his head and deliberately covered her mouth with his own.
Celia hesitated only a moment before responding. Her lips moved tentatively beneath his, and then with growing confidence. He deepened the kiss, allowing himself one lingering, appreciative taste of her before he finally, slowly drew away. “Good night,” he repeated, hearing his own huskiness.
And then he left quickly, while he still could.
Celia was still standing openmouthed in the middle of the sitting room when he closed the door behind him. His last glance at her showed him that she suddenly looked wide awake.
Celia woke Sunday morning still tired, a bit achy…and thoroughly confused. She’d come to this resort to learn more about herself, and what she wanted. Now she felt even further from the answers than she’d been before.
Reed Hollander had kissed her. And something inside her had changed.
Shaking her head in quick rejection of that fanciful thought, she stepped beneath a hot, stinging shower. She lingered for a long time beneath the steamy spray, refusing to allow herself to think about Reed, or Damien, or anything else in particular. By the time she finally emerged from the bathroom, she felt somewhat more relaxed, more like herself.
She was also a bit homesick.
On an impulse, she pulled on a bathing suit, then donned a striped T-shirt and denim cutoffs over it. Maybe she’d spend some time on the beach today, she thought. Alone? Well—that remained to be seen.
And then she reached for the telephone, trying to decide who to call. Her mother? No, not when she was in this state of mind. Her mother would only worry. Rachel wouldn’t be much better, though Celia wouldn’t have minded hearing her older sister’s calm, practical voice. Cody…well, as much as Celia loved her brother, she didn’t know what she would say to him.
Almost without realizing her intentions, she fou
nd herself dialing a number that was as familiar to her as her own.
“Granny Fran?” she said a moment later. “Hi, it’s Celia.”
“How nice to hear from you,” her grandmother said sincerely. “Are you back from your vacation?”
“No, I’m still in Texas. I just thought I’d call to say hello.”
“I’m glad you did. Are you having a nice time?”
“It’s a beautiful resort. You would love all the flowers. The weather’s been perfect—can you believe it’s warm enough for swimming here?”
“Sounds lovely, dear, but you didn’t exactly answer my question. Are you having a nice time?”
“For the most part,” Celia hedged. “It hasn’t exactly turned out the way I expected.”
“Oh?” Her grandmother sounded concerned. “Mr. Alexander isn’t being a good host?”
“He’s not even here. Hasn’t been since I arrived.” Celia gave a quick summary of the emergency that had called Damien away, and her conversation with him the day before. “He should be here tomorrow morning.”
“I suppose you’re looking forward to seeing him.”
“Yes, of course,” Celia answered, but only after a momentary hesitation.
“Sounds as though you may have changed your mind,” Frances observed perceptibly.
Celia sighed. “I don’t know. I really didn’t have any specific plans when I came here, hadn’t made any decisions about what direction I wanted my relationship with Damien to take. I just thought I’d take it a day at a time, get to know him a little better, learn more about his lifestyle. But then I met Reed, and now I’m confused again.”
“Reed?”
“Yes.” Celia moistened her lips. “He’s a…er…another guest here. He’s an accountant from Cleveland, vacationing alone. We’ve been doing some sightseeing together.”
“And…”
“And…he’s very nice. You’d like him, I think. He’s rather quiet, and serious and courteous. He has a thing for history, and he’s been teaching me a little about the history of this area. He makes it all sound very interesting.”
“An accountant with a passion for history?” A note of amusement crept into Frances’s voice. “Quite a change from your dashing jet-setting friend, Damien.”
Celia grimaced. “I know. They couldn’t be more opposite. I should be bored to tears when I’m with Reed, the way I am with so many of the guys back home. And yet…”
“And yet?” Frances prodded gently.
“I’m not.”
“I see.”
Celia ran a hand through her hair. “I wish I did.”
Frances laughed softly. “Maybe you’re just starting to realize that you aren’t quite ready to tie yourself into a serious relationship, with Damien Alexander or anyone else at the moment. You’re still a young woman, Celia. You have time to ‘shop around’ a bit before you make your selection.”
“This from the woman who’s been reminding me that I’m not getting any younger?” Celia teased. “Aren’t you the one who has told me several times that you were married and had both your children by my age?”
“I just don’t want you to make a decision you might regret,” Frances replied, her own amusement gone. “I want you to have what I had, darling. A man you can love, who will love you in return. A soul mate.”
“And how am I supposed to know when I meet this ‘soul mate’?” Celia asked, as bewildered now as she’d been all morning.
“You just will. It won’t necessarily be instant recognition, or a blinding flash of revelation, but there will come a point when you’ll know. That’s the way it happens in our family.”
“Maybe I’ll be the exception to the family tradition,” Celia said wryly.
“I don’t think so. I think there’s a very special someone waiting for you, my darling. Someone with whom you will be very happy.”
Celia chuckled and shook her head. “You always make me want to believe in impossible things, Granny Fran.”
“‘Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast,’” her grandmother quoted, and Celia smiled mistily at the happy memories of sitting at Granny Fran’s knee, listening to her read from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
“I love you, Granny Fran.”
“I love you, too. Do you feel better?”
“Much.” And it was true. Still confused, but better. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and gasped. “Here I’ve kept you talking and you’re going to be late for church.”
“I won’t be late. I’m already dressed. I’ve enjoyed talking to you, dear.”
“Still, you’d better be going. I’ll call you when I get back home, okay?”
“All right. Have a good time. And remember—you’ll know when it’s right for you.”
“I hope you’re right, Granny Fran,” Celia murmured after disconnecting the call. “I really hope you’re right.”
It had been very late when Reed had finally gotten to sleep, which meant he slept later than he’d intended Sunday morning. He was awakened by the buzz of the telephone on the nightstand. He snatched it up, more than half expecting the caller to be Celia.
Instead, it was his partner’s voice that greeted him. “Alexander’s making arrangements to leave the island first thing in the morning.”
“Which means he’ll be back here tomorrow afternoon,” Reed interpreted.
“You got it. Novotny’s booked on a flight that leaves tomorrow evening. We have information that all the players should be gathered there by Wednesday at the latest. It’s going down, partner. You ready?”
“I’ve been ready for the past week,” Reed growled, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “What do you think I’ve been doing here all this time, working on my tan?”
“Rumor has it you’ve been working on Alexander’s woman. How is the PYT, Reed?”
“Who the hell’s been watching me?” Reed demanded, sitting abruptly upright in the bed.
“No one’s been watching you, Hollander. But we do have another agent there who’s waiting for the meeting, remember? I talked to him yesterday—when I couldn’t find you.”
“I was out.”
“So I heard. Seems you’ve been helping yourself to Alexander’s fancy car as well as his lovely bed toy.”
“Stop calling her that, damn it!”
There was a notable silence on the other end of the line. “What’s going on, Reed?” Kyle asked more quietly.
“Nothing, okay? I just think everyone’s misjudged Celia. My hunch is that she’s nothing more than an innocent bystander, maybe a carefully planted pawn to make everything seem like business as usual for Alexander. She’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all.”
“If you’re right—and I still wouldn’t put any money on it—then she sure as hell doesn’t need to be there now.”
“I know that. She won’t even consider suggestions that she should go home now. She thinks Alexander’s a great guy. Won’t listen to a word against him.”
“You are being discreet, aren’t you, Reed?” Kyle sounded genuinely worried. “One wrong word, one hint of our presence there, could blow the whole operation.”
“I know how to do my job,” Reed answered coldly, very close to being genuinely angry with his longtime co-worker. “I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
“That goes for you, too, my friend. It’s not like you to lose your head over a—”
“Don’t call her a PYT,” Reed cut in. “And stop fretting, Kyle. I know what I’m doing.”
And wasn’t that a whopper of a lie? he asked himself as he hung up the phone a few moments later. He hadn’t been fully in control of his actions since Celia Carson had taken that book out of his hands and “kidnapped” him.
He needed to be thinking about his job, preparing for the expected meeting—and yet all he could do was think of Celia. Wonder when he could be with her again. When he could kiss her again. And whether she’d cooperate
as sweetly next time, when she was fully awake.
“Damn, Hollander,” he muttered, shoving his sleep-tousled hair off his forehead. “What the hell are you doing?”
Celia was sitting on the side of a spectacular fountain in the resort’s central courtyard, watching rainbow-hued koi swimming lazily in the shimmering pool, when a shadow fell over her. Her heart tripped and she looked around quickly, expecting to find Reed standing behind her. She couldn’t lie to herself and pretend that she hadn’t been hoping he would find her here. She’d been surreptitiously watching for him all morning, and had been discouraged that she hadn’t yet seen him, even when she’d breakfasted alone in the restaurant.
Damien’s secretary was standing over her, patiently waiting for her to notice him. “Oh,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Hello, Evan.”
“Mr. Alexander called,” the dark young man said. “He said to tell you he’ll be here early tomorrow afternoon.”
Celia nodded. “Thank you. Was there anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Umm…you have no plans for this afternoon?”
“Nothing in particular,” she replied with a shrug. Where are you, Reed?
Evan cleared his throat. “Mr. Alexander was quite concerned that you haven’t been enjoying your stay with us.”
“He shouldn’t have been. I’ve been treated very well here. I couldn’t ask for better service,” Celia assured him.
“Is there anything I can do for you now?”
“No, thank you. I was just enjoying the fountain. It’s beautiful.”
“Mr. Alexander had it shipped here from Italy.”
Of course he had. Celia resisted a smile that Evan might have misinterpreted and tried to look suitably impressed.
“There’s a complimentary showing of the new Julia Roberts film for resort guests this evening in the theater. Hors d’oeuvres and cocktails will be served…even popcorn, I believe,” Evan added with a slight smile. “It begins at eight.”
“Thank you. Maybe I’ll go. I’ve been wanting to see that film.”
He looked disproportionately pleased by her words. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I’ve heard it’s excellent.”