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Celia thought with a stifled smile that he must automatically ask that question of all his guests.
Reed shook the manager’s hand briefly. “I’m enjoying it more all the time,” he said.
Celia glanced up at him, to find him smiling down at her in a way that made his words somehow directed toward her. She felt her cheeks warm a bit, and quickly looked away.
Torres was watching them with a tiny frown between his dark eyebrows. “Er—well, enjoy your dinner. Please let me know if anything is unsatisfactory.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine, as always,” Celia assured him.
Torres managed another strained smile, murmured a good evening, and returned to his wife, giving them one last, worried look over his shoulder.
“He doesn’t like it that I’ve joined you this evening,” Reed commented.
“Don’t be silly. Why would he care?”
“Maybe because his boss wouldn’t like it?”
“Damien wouldn’t care, either,” Celia replied firmly, though she wasn’t as confident as she tried to sound. “Let’s go in, Reed. I’m starving.”
She slipped a hand beneath his arm, an almost defiant gesture that earned her a quizzical look from him and another faint frown from Torres. Reed didn’t say anything, simply put a hand over hers and led her to the doorway. He kept her hand on his arm as they were escorted to a table by the rather surprised-looking maître d’, who’d become accustomed to escorting each of them to tables “for one.”
Celia had just noticed how firm and muscular Reed’s arm was beneath his thin, white cotton shirt when they reached the table. Surprisingly muscular for an accountant, she mused as she slipped into her seat. Served her right for stereotyping.
The table was Celia’s favorite in the beautifully decorated restaurant, which was another indication of her preferential treatment, since the restaurant was fairly crowded on this Friday evening. The table was small, private, candlelit, set cozily into a bay window overlooking the Gulf. The full moon reflected softly off the rolling waves and nearly deserted beach. A night made for romance.
Celia glanced at Reed from beneath her lashes and tried to imagine Damien sitting across from her. Damien, with his thick, precisely-styled blond hair, his gleaming, dark-lashed blue eyes, his flashing dimples and killer smile. The image kept fading in contrast to the reality of the man sitting across from her. Reed Hollander, with his neat dark hair and grave hazel eyes, his horn-rimmed glasses and cautious smiles, his muscular arms and fact-crammed brain.
Reed, who was becoming more intriguing to her all the time.
She mentally shook her head. Talk about confusing situations! Here she was at this glamorous resort with tentative plans to begin an affair with a dashing, exciting man, only to find herself suddenly attracted to another man who was all too much like the men she’d left behind, the ones she’d thought too ordinary to interest her. And she was even less certain than she’d been before that she wanted to become intimately involved with Damien.
Now this was a moral dilemma!
“So, what’s your decision?” Reed asked from across the table.
Celia blinked at him over her menu, wondering if the man could read her mind. “I…er…beg your pardon?”
He nodded toward his own menu. “Have you decided what you want for dinner?”
“Dinner. Oh, yes, of course. I’ll—um—I’ll have…” She glanced down at the menu and read off the first entrée that caught her eye. “Baked snapper.”
“Sounds good,” Reed said, closing his own menu. “I’ll have that, too.”
They placed their orders, selected a wine, were served salads and bread. A noticeable silence fell between them when they were alone again. Celia found her eyes turning once again toward the inviting expanse of moon-washed beach. She could so easily imagine herself walking hand in hand along that beach in that soft moonlight. Problem was, she couldn’t seem to decide whose hand she’d most like to be holding.
“You’ve gotten very quiet,” Reed commented, reclaiming her attention. “Tired?”
“A little,” she admitted. “I was just noticing how beautiful the beach looks tonight.”
He followed her gaze. “It is nice. Would you like to take a walk after dinner?”
She almost choked on a bite of bread. “Maybe,” she murmured after taking a quick sip of wine.
“Tell me more about yourself, Celia. All I know is that you live in Percy, Arkansas, and you work in a bank. Have you always lived in Percy?”
“Since I was a toddler,” she replied, sternly telling herself to stop being foolish and just talk to the man. “I was born in Little Rock, but then my dad had a chance to go to work for a small counseling center in Percy. He’s a psychologist,” she added.
“You said you have an older sister?”
“Rachel. She’s eight years older than I am, very serious and responsible, but we’ve always been close. When I was just finishing my junior year of high school, my dad took another job in St. Louis. I couldn’t bear to move away before my senior year, so I stayed in Percy with Rachel and her first husband, Ray, and their baby daughter, Paige. It worked out great.”
“She still lives in Percy?”
“Yes. Ray died in a car accident a few years ago, leaving her with two small children to raise, Paige and Aaron. She’s had a rough time, but she’s getting married again soon and she’s very happy about it. His name’s Seth Fletcher, he’s an attorney, and he’s crazy about Rachel. I’m thrilled for her.”
“Do you have any other siblings?”
“A brother, Cody. He’s five years older than I am. He’s single, and part owner of a country-western dinner and dance club in Percy. He’s a real joker, always cutting up and doing impulsive things to make the rest of us laugh. You’d like him. Everyone does.”
Reed studied her face in the candlelight from their flowers-and-tapers centerpiece. “And what about you? Are you more like Rachel or Cody?”
“That should be obvious,” she answered wryly. “As much as I’d love to be more like Cody, I seem to be more like Rachel all the time. I mean, Cody would have found lots of things to do here alone. He’d already know everyone, probably would have organized beach parties and volleyball games and exchanged addresses and phone numbers with all the other guests. Rachel, on the other hand, would have taken long walks alone on the beach and read a good book or two—which is basically what I’ve been doing.”
Reed chuckled. “Not quite. You did kidnap me this afternoon, and you hardly know me. That sounds more like Cody.”
“True,” Celia said, brightening. “Rachel never would have done anything like that. Of course, Rachel wouldn’t be here in the first place. She was really opposed to me—” Suddenly realizing what she was about to reveal, she stumbled and fell silent, reaching quickly for her wineglass again.
Reed had lifted an eyebrow. “Rachel didn’t want you to come?” he prodded gently, a bit too casually.
Celia shrugged. “She doesn’t particularly like Damien,” she admitted.
Reed definitely looked interested now. “How come?”
Shaking her head, Celia tried to downplay the admission. “It’s silly, really. Rachel’s never even met Damien. For some reason, they’ve never been in the same place at the same time.” She didn’t bother to add that she’d invited Damien to meet her family on more than one occasion; Damien had always politely declined, adding ruefully that family gatherings always made him nervous. “She’s simply been reading too many juicy scandal sheets. I keep telling her they’re exaggerated, but you know how overprotective older sisters can be. Brothers, too. Cody’s almost as bad as Rachel.”
“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.
