A Match for Celia Page 21

  “I don’t want an ice pack.”

  She bit her lip, nodded and moved toward the bathroom to change.

  Reed stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Stay in here where I can see you. You’re still too pale. I don’t want you passing out in there.”

  Despite what had passed between them earlier, it bothered her to think of undressing in front of him now. In some ways, he wasn’t the same man she’d made love with before. “I’m not going to pass out,” she assured him, still without looking at him. “I just want to wash up a bit.”

  “Celia.” His voice sounded strained, as if his patience had worn much too thin. “Change the damned shirt and let’s go. I want someone to look at your head. You could have a concussion.”

  So could he, she thought in quick remorse. Reed must be feeling terrible. This wasn’t the time for inappropriate modesty on her part.

  She tugged the soiled T-shirt over her head. She couldn’t bite back a faint groan when the neckline rubbed against the raw lump on her forehead, and her scraped palms stung in protest of the activity. She ached all over.

  Reed’s hand fell quickly on her shoulder, her thin bra strap the only thing separating his palm from her bare skin. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She concentrated on finding the hem of the clean T-shirt.

  “Celia.” He exerted enough pressure on her shoulder to turn her toward him. “Why aren’t you looking at me? Is your vision blurred? Are you seeing double?”

  He tilted her face upward, anxiously searching her face, studying her eyes with clinical thoroughness.

  To Celia’s chagrin, she felt her eyes brim with hot tears.

  Reed reacted immediately. He tugged the shirt out of her hand, tossed it aside and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, Celia,” he murmured, one hand supporting the back of her head. “It’s all over now.”

  She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. His shirt was crumpled, dirty, dampened with sweat and drops of blood. She didn’t care. She soaked up his warmth, his strength. And prayed that when he’d said it was all over now, he wasn’t talking about them.

  He stroked her bare back, soothingly, slowly, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall apart.”

  “You have every right to do so,” he said, still holding her close. “It’s been a hell of a night.”

  He could say that again. She’d lost her virginity, stumbled onto an illicit arms deal, witnessed an attack on Reed, gotten herself captured and thrown into a room full of guns, escaped, discovered that Reed wasn’t at all what he’d pretended to be, been held at gunpoint, watched her friend get shot…

  “Yes,” she said. “I guess you could say it’s been an eventful night.”

  Reed smiled crookedly and rested his forehead against hers. “Poor Celia. You found more adventure than you bargained for when you left Percy, didn’t you?”

  She’d found adventure, all right. And so much more. “Reed?” she asked in a very small voice.

  He tenderly smoothed a strand of hair away from her injured forehead. “What?”

  “Was it all an act?” She motioned toward the bed. “Everything?”

  He stiffened. His eyes flashed. If she hadn’t already known he was a dangerous man by that time, she would have realized it then.

  His voice was a low growl. “Are you asking if I made love to you as part of my job?”

  She tilted her chin and answered bravely. “Yes. I guess that is what I’m asking.”

  “Damn it, Celia, don’t you know I could have lost my job because of you? Hell, I still might, as badly as I screwed up this assignment.”

  She searched his face, looking for any reason not to take him at his word. “You lied to me,” she said. “About your job, your reason for being here.”

  “Honey, I lied to you about damned near everything,” he groaned. “But I didn’t lie to you about this,” he added just before he covered her mouth with his own.

  Celia couldn’t respond immediately. She still had that odd, disconcerting feeling that the man holding her now wasn’t the same man she’d fallen so hard for during the past week.

  As though sensing her confusion, Reed lifted his head and looked down at her. Their eyes locked. His held a plea that Celia couldn’t misinterpret.

  Suddenly reassured, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

  His arms closed around her so tightly she could hardly breathe. She didn’t care. This was Reed. Whatever his job, whoever he was, she loved him.

  That was the only thing that hadn’t changed during this long, terrifying night.

  Someone pounded on the outer door. “Reed? Come on, let’s go.”

  In response to Kyle’s summons, Reed lifted his head. “We’ll talk later,” he promised. “And I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  Celia nodded and stepped away from him, moving dreamily toward the door.

  Reed detained her with a hand on her shoulder. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked with quiet humor. Her clean T-shirt dangled from his hand.

  Celia blushed and reached for it. She tugged it hastily over her head.

  Reed was smiling at her when she emerged from the neckline of the bright red shirt.

  For the first time in hours, she was able to smile back.

  When they reached the hospital, Celia insisted on checking on Damien before she allowed anyone to look at her head. Reed protested at first, a deep frown creasing his forehead, that familiar look of jealousy squaring his jaw.

  “Reed,” Celia said, resting her hand on his arm. “He’s my friend. And he was hurt trying to protect me. I have to know he’s all right.”

  Reed hesitated, then exhaled and nodded. “I understand.”

  She smiled. “I knew you would.”

  Damien was lying in a hospital bed, heroically pale and bandaged, being hovered over by his fiercely loyal secretary, Maris, and Enrique Torres and his flustered wife, both looking as though they’d dressed hastily. Mindi Kellogg, who was looking less cheerleaderish than usual, stood in a corner of the room and wrung her hands. Probably, Celia thought somewhat cattily, trying to think of some way to involve Damien’s visitors in cheerfully organized hospital games. Gurney races? Bandage rolling?

  A nurse bustled around the room, trying to keep some kind of control over the visitors. She didn’t look pleased to see three more walk in. She probably wasn’t used to so much activity at this hour in the morning, Celia thought. Celia could certainly sympathize.

  With a determined smile, she approached the bed while Reed and Kyle lingered by the door. “Look at you,” she said, shaking a finger at Damien. “I thought I’d find you on the verge of death and instead, you’re lying here like a sultan, basking in all this attention.”

  Damien gave her a charmingly crooked grin. “Can I help it if I’m just naturally hero material?”

  She groaned. “Oh, Lord, now you really have a line to use on the ladies, don’t you? Not to mention a picturesque scar to show off to them.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Think it’ll work?”

  “It probably will,” she admitted.

  He glanced toward the doorway, then back at her, his smile still in place, but a bit strained now. “I don’t suppose there’s any need for me to waste the line on you.”

  “No,” she answered seriously. “You don’t need to use lines on me, Damien. I already know you’re a hero. You were hurt trying to protect me. I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

  For the first time since she’d known him, Damien flushed. “Aww,” he muttered. “It was nothing. Are you okay, Celia? That’s a mean-looking lump on your head.”

  “It’s just a scratch,” she assured him, patting his hand. “What about you? Are you in much pain?”

  He shook his head, though the faint lines around his mouth belied the denial. “No sweat,” he assured her. “The
bullet just grazed my shoulder. Some soft tissue damage, but nothing permanent. The doctors assure me I’ll be back in top form within a few weeks.”

  “I’m glad.” She leaned down to give him a careful hug. “You scared me half to death!” she chided him, suddenly fierce. “Don’t ever do anything like that again, you hear me?”

  “I hope it won’t be necessary,” he answered. “When I think of what was going on within my own organization, right under my nose—damn it, it just makes me feel like an idiot.”

  “Because you trusted your friends?” She shook her head. “Don’t feel that way, Damien. You couldn’t help it that some of your employees didn’t deserve your faith in them.”

  She nodded toward Maris and Enrique and Mindi, who stood so loyally nearby, and thought of Evan, who was valiantly trying to carry on back at the resort. “You should consider yourself fortunate that you have so many good friends who would never dream of betraying you that way.”

  “Like you?” he asked, taking her hand.

  “Like me,” she agreed gently. “You’re my very good friend, Damien. I hope you always will be.”

  He sighed, but squeezed her hand before releasing her. He glanced back toward the doorway. “Your policeman friend is beginning to look very fierce. I’m starting to get worried. One bullet’s enough for one night, don’t you think?”

  “Reed’s not going to shoot you, Damien,” Celia promised with a shaky smile, but she moved a step away from him, anyway. “You need some rest—and so do I. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah. Have someone look at that head, you hear? And tell them to add it to my tab. This has been one hell of a vacation I’ve provided you, hasn’t it, sweetheart?”

  She chuckled. “Well, it has been full of surprises.”

  He looked toward the door again, then asked, “Do you think my picturesque scar will have any influence on the tall redhead?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you try finding out?”

  “Maybe I’ll do that. After I’ve had some rest, of course.” He suddenly looked very worn and tired. Celia’s heart went out to him, but she only smiled and bade him good-night.

  There was really nothing else left for her to say.

  Celia wasn’t sure what woke her much later that same day. Bright sunlight was streaming through her bedroom window when she opened her eyes, so bright she squinted in reaction. It had to be late afternoon; she’d been sleeping for hours.

  She stirred against the pillow, wincing when she remembered the bandaged lump on her forehead. She raised a tentative hand to it.

  “Does it hurt?” The deep voice made her gasp and sit up in surprise.

  Reed sat in a chair near the bed, looking as though he’d been there for a while. He had showered and changed into a clean shirt and jeans since she’d last seen him, when he and Kyle had brought her back to her suite and left her there, drained from exhaustion and delayed reaction. There hadn’t been any other opportunities for them to be alone, and Reed hadn’t offered to come in when he’d brought her back. They’d both been too tired to talk then—or do anything else, for that matter.

  “How long have you been sitting there?” she asked him, her voice husky from sleep.

  He shrugged. “Not long.”

  Which didn’t answer her question, of course. “Haven’t you gotten any sleep?”

  He nodded. “Enough.”

  She studied him anxiously. He did look somewhat more rested. There was more color in his face, and his eyes were clearer—especially since he was no longer wearing his glasses. Had he ever really needed them?

  “How’s your head?” she asked.

  He shrugged again. “Okay. How’s yours?”

  “Okay.” The laconic repetition was deliberate. She pushed the bedclothes aside, leaving her clad only in a soft, oversized nightshirt. “Excuse me a minute.”

  He nodded. She passed his chair on the way to the bathroom. She felt him watching her, but he remained still. She closed the door between them.

  She took her time in the bathroom. She washed her bruised face, brushed her teeth and her hair, rubbed antibiotic cream into her scraped palms and knees. She knew she was stalling, but still she didn’t hurry.

  She needed this time to find the nerve she seemed to have misplaced sometime during the night.

  Reed was still sitting in the chair when she finally rejoined him. He didn’t look as if he’d moved so much as a muscle.

  She sat on the end of the bed, facing him. “You’re not really a tax accountant, are you, Reed?” It was a stupid question, really, but the first one that occurred to her.

  Reed didn’t smile. “No. I’m not a tax accountant. I’m a federal agent.”

  “And you’re not from Cleveland, either.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Taos,” he said. “New Mexico. Cleveland seemed more in character.”

  “Are your parents still living? Are you really an only child?”

  “Yes. And, no. I have two younger brothers, one of them still in college at my parents’ expense. My parents couldn’t afford to give me a vacation like this if they wanted to.”

  She moistened her lips. It seemed to get worse with every revelation. “Was your birthday really last week?”

  “No. Next month. I’ll really be thirty-three then, though.”

  The last, rather hopefully offered tidbit didn’t cheer her much. “Are you married?” she asked, her fingers twisting in dread.

  He looked startled. “No. Of course not.”

  She didn’t see that there was any “of course” to it. “Is your name really Reed Hollander?”

  “Yes.”

  For some reason, that meant a great deal to her. At least the name she’d called out in ecstasy had been his real one.

  She had only one more question, and it was the hardest of all to ask. She wasn’t at all sure she could find the courage to do so. But she was just as certain she couldn’t go another minute without knowing the answer. “Do you love me?”

  “Yes.” Reed answered without hesitation.

  Her eyes flooded in relief. “Then—that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?” she asked a bit brokenly.

  A moment later, the chair was empty, and Reed was beside Celia on the bed, his arms locked tightly around her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his clean-shaven cheek against hers. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you from the start. I’m sorry I made such a mess of everything and almost got you killed. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  Tears were beginning to overflow her eyes. “Oh, Reed.”

  “But,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken at all, “I’m not sorry I met you. I’m not sorry I fell in love with you. I will never regret that, no matter what happens in the future. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, touching trembling fingers to his hard, tanned cheek. “I believe you. I love you, Reed.”

  “Oh God, Celia.” He kissed her, roughly, deeply. And then he kissed her more gently, lingeringly.

  Almost dizzy with love and happiness, Celia wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to the bed with her.

  It was a long time later before either of them spoke again. “I have so much to learn about you,” Celia murmured, stroking her hand down his bare, still heaving chest.

  Reed covered her hand with his own and held it over his pounding heart. “You already know everything that’s important to me. I love you.”

  She smiled and kissed his jaw. “I love you, too. It’s strange, isn’t it? We’ve known each other such a short time. We should be little more than strangers to each other. And yet I feel as though in some way I’ve always known you.”

  He smiled and touched her lower lip. “Are you going to turn sappy and sentimental now?”

  “Probably. Do you mind?”

  “No. Go right ahead.”

  She laughed softly at his indulgent tone. “You’re still trying to make up to me for lying to me, aren’t you? Something tells
me you’re going to be very agreeable today.”

  “Anything you want,” he promised recklessly. “Today—and always.”

  She swallowed, wondering if he’d meant that the way it sounded. “Always?” she repeated carefully.

  “For the rest of my life,” he said, his tone even and utterly sincere.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  He laughed. “I’m taking that as a yes,” he warned her.

  She drew a shaken breath, then nodded. “That’s a yes.”

  He kissed her tenderly. “You really have gotten brave lately, haven’t you?”

  She smiled and rested her cheek against his chest. “I might even take up parasailing. I suppose you’ve done it before, despite what you led me to believe before.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ve…er…tried quite a few things I haven’t mentioned.”

  “I’ll just bet you have,” Celia muttered, the earlier image of the mild-mannered, rather shy and cautious tax accountant almost a joke now. How could she have ever fallen for it in the first place?

  “You did come here looking for adventure, didn’t you?” he asked teasingly.

  “True. Of course, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  Reed scowled suddenly. “I know what you had in mind,” he muttered. “And exactly who you had in mind. But we’ll let that go for now.”

  “Big of you, considering I haven’t asked one question about the gorgeous redhead you introduced as your partner,” she retorted pointedly.

  “Kyle?” He seemed surprised that she’d even mention the other woman.

  “Kyle.”

  “She’s a friend. A good friend.”

  “And so is Damien,” Celia said sweetly. “Okay?”

  He shook his head at the realization that he’d just been neatly manipulated, but he agreed. “Okay.”

  “Besides,” Celia said a moment later, her teasing mood returning, “I still don’t feel exactly adventurous. I’ve managed to get myself…er…hog-tied and branded by the first man I ever went to bed with. That’s pretty average and traditional, wouldn’t you say?”

  Reed rolled onto his side, looming over her, a look of pure devilment in his clever hazel eyes. “I wouldn’t exactly call ours an average, traditional courtship, would you, love?”