A Match for Celia Read online

  She would be devastated if he said goodbye to her and walked out of her life for good.

  He smiled down at her, looking perfectly content to be with her. For now, at least. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he said softly. “You deserve to be.”

  After a moment he asked, “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me for the way I behaved last night?”

  She promptly blushed. She really was going to have to do something about this tendency of hers to show every fleeting emotion on her much too expressive face! “I…er…I suppose so.”

  “I know I acted strangely,” he said a bit awkwardly. “It was just—well, you took me by surprise.”

  She peeked up at him through her lashes. “Showing up at your room, you mean?”

  “That—and what you told me afterward.”

  “Oh.” Her blush deepened. “That I was…er…”

  “Yeah.”

  It seemed that neither of them could say it this morning. Celia wondered why. And then she decided it was because the matter was too important to speak of lightly. She and Reed would not be casual lovers. Something very important was growing between them. Life-altering. And, oh, how she hoped she wasn’t the only one who felt that way about it!

  “I understand,” she assured him, though of course she didn’t quite understand. She’d been trying ever since to decide exactly why he’d suddenly changed his mind about making love to her. Even in her inexperience, it had been obvious that he had wanted her. That he hadn’t wanted to leave her at her door last night.

  Had he considered himself being noble? Even if his intentions had been honorable, she couldn’t be grateful that he’d left her to toss and turn all night with an empty, unsatisfied ache inside her. Nobility was all well and good in its place, but it could certainly lead to frustration.

  As if he’d read her mind, Reed gave an odd little groan that strangely echoed her feelings. “If you only knew how many times I called myself a fool last night for taking you back to your own room,” he muttered. “If I’d thought a cold shower would have helped, I’d be an icicle by now.”

  It helped, a little, to know that he’d shared her frustration. She laughed and moved closer to his side. “I called you a few choice names, myself, last night,” she admitted.

  “I don’t blame you.” He suddenly sounded grim. “You’ll probably call me a few more before the day is over.”

  She frowned and looked up at him, intending to ask him to explain that strange statement. He distracted her by turning to her and kissing her until she forgot how to form words, much less ask a coherent question.

  He finally released her. While she recovered her breath, he polished the smudged lenses of his glasses on a spotless white handkerchief. Celia noted that his hands weren’t quite steady.

  At least she wasn’t the only one trembling, she thought with some measure of satisfaction.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Sandcastle was a quaint little place built on the beach between two towering hotels. It was busy, but there was a table available for them. Celia interpreted that as another good sign, then mentally chided herself for snatching at straws again. Both she and Reed ordered coffee, croissants and fresh fruit, remembering the friendly waiter’s advice about the pastries.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Celia commented after the busy waitress had poured their coffee and left with their orders.

  “Who is?”

  “Mike. The waiter at the Alexander,” she clarified.

  “Oh.” Reed grinned briefly, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

  Celia glanced idly around the room. A short, dumpy woman with bottle-red hair sat alone at a table in one corner. Though she bore little resemblance otherwise, the red hair reminded Celia of the woman with whom Reed had shared breakfast yesterday. Followed by a leisurely stroll on the beach.

  She cleared her throat and stirred her coffee, focusing her gaze on the circling spoon. She had no right to quiz Reed about the woman, of course. After all, she had been breakfasting with another man at the time.

  “What’s wrong, Celia?”

  She looked up quickly in response to his perceptive question. “What do you mean?” she stalled.

  “You’ve started frowning. Something I said?”

  “No. I was just—umm—thinking.”

  “What about?” he persisted.

  She sighed. “I should have known not to try to hide anything from you. You and I have been very honest with each other, haven’t we, Reed?”

  Something crossed his face—a more suspicious person than she might have called it guilt. She told herself she must be mistaken.

  “Er—” he said, then started stirring his own coffee, though he hadn’t put anything in it.

  “We have been honest with each other, haven’t we, Reed?” she repeated, watching him closely, suddenly uneasy.

  “Stop trying to change the subject. Why were you frowning?”

  Maybe she was just trying to change the subject. She made a face and confessed. “I was thinking about that redhead.”

  Reed looked confused. “What redhead?”

  “The one you had breakfast with yesterday. And then—well, I saw you walking with her. She’s very beautiful.”

  “Oh.” A glimmer of amusement flashed through his eyes. “That redhead. Yeah. She’s beautiful.”

  “Tall, too.”

  “Mmm.”

  “She’s certainly in good shape. Probably lifts weights or something.”

  “Yeah.” Reed sipped his coffee, then murmured over the rim of his cup, “Nice pecs.”

  Celia kicked him beneath the table.

  Reed sputtered and laughed. “Sorry—but you made it so easy. She and I went for a short, friendly walk together and then she went to the health club to work out. That’s all there was to it.”

  Of course she went to work out, Celia thought as the waitress set her buttery croissant in front of her. Celia hadn’t set foot in the health club, herself. Those machines always looked like instruments of torture to her. “I’m sure she’s very nice,” she muttered after the waitress left the table.

  “The redhead? I don’t know. She seemed like a real barracuda to me,” Reed mused, looking amused at a private joke.

  Celia thought of kicking him again, then decided to let it go. “Sorry,” she said stiffly. “It’s none of my business, of course. It’s not as if I was jealous or anything.”

  “I’ve sure as hell been jealous of Alexander.”

  The blunt admission rather surprised Celia, though she’d suspected it. She twisted her napkin in her lap, wondering what to say in response.

  As Reed himself had pointed out last night, this was happening very fast between them—whatever it was. They’d known each other such a short time. Less than a week! And yet Celia had been fully prepared to make love with him last night.

  She ate in silence for a time, then set her fork down and looked across the little table. She’d already forgotten the dumpy woman across the room—and all the other patrons, as well. She and Reed might have been alone in the crowded little diner, for all the attention she spared her surroundings. “Reed?”

  He swallowed the last bite of his croissant. “Yes?”

  “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted frankly. “Of—well, of this thing between us. It’s all new for me.”

  He reached out to take her hand. “I’m scared as hell,” he said, his expression rueful, his tone sincere. “Trust me, Celia, this is new for me, too.”

  “I do trust you,” she said with a little smile of relief that she’d gotten that out of the way. “I have from the beginning.”

  Reed’s smile faded. “We have to talk.”

  “I know. There are so many things we still have to learn about each other. And such a short time left,” she said, fretting. “I have to be back at work at the bank Monday. I suppose you have to get back to your job, too.”

  “Celia, about my work.” He hesitated.

  “Can I get you folks any
thing else?” the waitress asked, appearing suddenly beside their table, recalling them abruptly to their public surroundings.

  Reed released Celia’s hand and sat back in his chair. “No, not for me. Celia?”

  She shook her head, curious about what Reed had started to tell her.

  The waitress nodded and slipped their tab onto the corner of the table. Reed picked it up, glanced at it, and laid a bill on top of it. “Are you finished?” he asked Celia.

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “All right.” She set her napkin on the table and rose.

  Hand in hand, they strolled down the beach. There were quite a few people out this morning, Celia noted. Joggers, fishers, sunbathers, early picnickers. Some college-age guys playing fetch with a couple of big dogs. Mothers trying vainly to keep their children coated with sunblock.

  November, she reminded herself with a slight shake of her head. Sometimes the contrasts between here and home were very disconcerting. Made her wonder anxiously if anything she’d found here would survive the return to reality.

  Reed led her back in the direction of the resort. He said little, but kept glancing at his watch. Finally he sighed, stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “We have to talk.”

  “Yes.” He’d said that already, and she’d already agreed, but she didn’t bother pointing it out. Something was obviously bothering Reed. Something important.

  Why was it so hard for him to begin? What wasn’t he telling her?

  Celia felt her nerves knot somewhere low in her middle. “What is it, Reed?” she prodded, hoping to help him.

  He looked again at his watch. “Damn it, there isn’t time.”

  She couldn’t understand his sudden obsession with the time. “Why? What do you have to do today?”

  “I have to…er…make some calls. Business,” he added vaguely. “I’m sorry.”

  Why was it that men kept saying that and leaving her this week?

  Celia wryly shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize,” she assured him. Those words were starting to sound a bit too familiar. “I understand.”

  “I want you to go to your suite and wait for me,” he said, and the suggestion sounded suspiciously like an order. “It may take a while, but I’ll call as soon as I’m free.”

  “Why should I have to stay in my suite just because you’re busy?” she demanded, turning to face him. “There might be other things I’d rather do.”

  Reed looked frustrated. “Celia, you don’t understand.”

  “Don’t start that again! Either tell me what you’re trying to say, or drop it.”

  He grumbled something unintelligible and pulled her into his arms. “I just want to keep you safe.”

  She spread her hands on his chest and looked up at him, trying to read his expression. “You’re right. I don’t understand. Safe from what, Reed?”

  “From Alexander.”

  She frowned. “From Damien? You can’t be serious. Damien isn’t going to hurt me. His pride might be a bit piqued, but he’s really a very nice man. To be honest, I think he already knows nothing’s going to happen between us. If either of us had really been serious about it, something would have already happened by now.”

  Reed groaned. “How can you be so naive?”

  That made her mad. She tugged against him, trying to free herself from his arms. “Don’t talk to me as though I’m a dimwitted child, Reed! I hate that. I may not be overly experienced, but I am not naive. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “You don’t—”

  “And don’t tell me again that I don’t understand!” she exploded, shoving harder against him.

  Reed held her easily. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her closer. “Celia, I’m sorry.”

  She went still, wanting to believe, but suspicious of the ease with which he’d conceded. “You’re sorry you called me naive?” she clarified.

  “Yes. And I’m sorry I tried to give you orders. I suppose you could call it a bad habit,” he added with a twisted smile.

  “Then it’s one you’re going to have to break,” she told him bluntly. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

  “I’ve already figured that out,” he assured her wryly. “And I’ll work on it.”

  She nodded stiffly. “You’d better go make your calls.”

  “I know.” He placed a hand at the back of her head and held her face tipped up to his. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  She softened. How could she not? “I don’t want you to,” she admitted.

  He kissed her, lightly at first, and then harder. Deeper.

  Celia wrapped her arms around his neck and responded with everything inside her.

  Reed was breathing heavily by the time he drew reluctantly away. He muttered a curse, looked at his watch again, and groaned. “I have to go. I’ll walk you to your suite.”

  “No. I’ll walk myself.”

  He didn’t seem to like it, but they parted at the koi pond. Reed headed for his building, Celia lingered for a moment to watch the fish and work up her nerve to go in search of Damien.

  This was something she had to do, she told herself firmly. The sooner, the better. No matter what Reed said.

  Celia found Damien in his office, for once unguarded by his ferociously protective secretaries. He looked up from a stack of paperwork when she appeared in the doorway. He rose immediately to his feet.

  “Celia! There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Have you?” She closed the office door behind her. “I hope you weren’t worried.”

  “I was, a bit,” he admitted, rounding the desk. “I thought you’d be joining me for breakfast.”

  “I saw you in the restaurant. But you were surrounded by your staff and you all looked so serious I hated to interrupt your meeting.”

  Damien looked regretful. “We did have an impromptu meeting this morning. I’m afraid my staff had gotten a bit lax in handling press matters. I had to remind them of some basic rules when dealing with the paparazzi.”

  “Did it get ugly last night?” Celia asked sympathetically.

  He made a face. “Almost. I think we avoided a scandal. But only barely.”

  “Did your unpleasant guest leave?”

  “Yes. He did so at the urging of local police. His…er…lady friend chose not to press charges.”

  Celia frowned. “She shouldn’t have let him get away with beating her. He’ll only do so again the next time he’s angry with her—or someone else.”

  Damien shrugged. “There was some indication that she took the first swing. With a chair. I don’t think either of them could be considered blameless in the incident.”

  Celia shook her head in disgust. “Only goes to show that fame and fortune can’t buy class,” she murmured.

  Damien chuckled. “Sweetheart, people have been telling me that for years.”

  Unamused, she immediately became defensive on his behalf. “But, Damien, you would never act that way. I mean, you’re obscenely rich, but you’ve never abused your power. Not in front of me, anyway,” she added conscientiously, knowing there were sides of Damien she’d probably never seen.

  Damien opened his mouth, closed it, then burst out laughing. “Is it any wonder that I enjoy being with you? No one else talks to me the way you do.”

  “Well, Damien, surely you know you’re obscenely rich,” Celia said, grinning at him now. She always enjoyed teasing him; mostly because he responded so good-naturedly. “It’s not as if I’m telling you anything new.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Say the word, my darling, and all I have will be yours. Except, of course, my Rolls. That I don’t share with anyone.”

  Celia shook her head, matching his tone. “All or nothing, Alexander. If I can’t have the Rolls, then the deal’s off.”

  He sighed heavily. “All right, you win. You can have the Rolls—but only if I get you in return.”<
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  Though she was still fairly sure he was teasing, Celia felt her amusement fade. She took a deep breath. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “My Rolls?” he asked, still smiling, though his eyes had turned serious.

  She shook her head. “Us.”

  He sighed and released her. “I see.”

  Celia placed a hand on his arm and looked up at him anxiously. She didn’t want to hurt him; she wasn’t even sure she could. Still, she chose her words carefully. “I like you very much, Damien. I want you to know that I consider you one of the nicest men I know.”

  He looked startled. “Lord, Celia, you make me sound like your favorite uncle!”

  She winced. She’d forgotten to take into account that male ego thing. “I didn’t quite mean it that way. I was trying to say that I consider you one of my very best friends.”

  He grimaced. “Uh-oh. I know where this is leading.”

  “Now, Damien, don’t make this difficult for me,” she chided him. “It’s hard enough as it is.”

  “I think I’ve already gotten your point. You’re trying to tell me that you only want to be friends with me, right?”

  “Right.” She patted his arm. “I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll agree that it’s the best decision for both of us. Let’s face it, Damien, I’m just not your usual type. Your life is glamorous and exciting and sophisticated—and I’m none of those things. I couldn’t even go parasailing with you.”

  “I could have taught you to be more adventurous,” he assured her. “You just needed more time.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No. I’ve had enough time to know that as fond as I am of you, friendship is all there could ever be between us.”

  She thought of Reed and pictured herself surrounded by a brood of little accountants who looked just like him—tiny horn-rimmed glasses and all. Average. Ordinary. And she could honestly say she wanted nothing more out of life now than to share it with him.

  “It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one you met while I was away. The one you had breakfast with this morning.” Damien spoke with uncanny insight, and the line of his jaw seemed harder than usual.