A Match for Celia

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.