A Match for Celia

Celia lifted her head again. “Tax accounting is more interesting than teaching?”

He cleared his throat. “At times. Are you hungry?”

It took her a moment to switch gears. It had been several hours since they’d indulged in the burgers and shakes. Even now, she shouldn’t be hungry—but she discovered that she was. “Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry,” she said. “It’s hard to believe after all we ate this afternoon, but I could eat again.”

“So could I. Will you join me for a late dinner in the resort restaurant?”

“I’d like that.”

“Should we change first?”

Celia hesitated, thought about how grubby and windblown she felt after a day of sightseeing in a convertible, and nodded. “I’ll make it quick. Meet you in the restaurant lobby in, say, half an hour?”

“You’ve got a date.”

Celia swallowed in response to his wording. She hadn’t really thought of this as a date. For some reason it was easier to think of it as a friendly outing between two amiable acquaintances. She didn’t bother to correct him. It seemed better to just let it go.

Reed’s message light was flashing when he entered his room. His accommodations were nice, but much less luxurious than the suite Celia had been provided. He called the message desk, then dialed the number he’d been given, keeping one eye on the clock. He didn’t want to be late for his dinner date, he thought, as he listened to the faint buzz of the other phone ringing.

“Kyle Brown,” a familiar voice answered.

Reed didn’t bother to identify himself. “What’s up?”

“There’s been another delivery.”

Reed tensed. “Any leads?”

“Nothing new. All arrows still point to Alexander. Every major transaction we can trace during the past two years has taken place in an area where Alexander was conducting business. We’ve had two sources mention his name in anonymous tips. We have solid evidence implicating at least one of his employees. Rumor still has it there will be an important meeting on Padre Island sometime this week between Alexander and two of his current customers. Apparently, it was put off a few days because of the storm that damaged his resort in the Caribbean.”

“Leaving me cooling my heels here when I was expecting to be witness to the meeting two days ago,” Reed grumbled.

“As I said, there’s every reason to believe the meeting is still on when Alexander gets back there.”

“He’s due to return in a couple of days,” Reed said, repeating something Celia had casually mentioned during the afternoon.

“Yeah. Novotny’s discreetly making arrangements to be there.”

Reed felt the tension low in his neck, a sure sign that the case was nearing a resolution. All the major players were coming together, and he would be here when they gathered.

“The woman still there?”

Reed shoved a hand through his wind-tossed hair. “Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on her. She could be setting everything up on that end.”

“Or she knows nothing about any of this,” Reed cautioned.

“C’mon, Reed. We know she’s been seen several times talking to our suspects in her hometown. And she’s been photographed with Alexander on several occasions.”

“Dates, not meetings, as far as we know. As for her talking to the other suspects—well, it’s a small town. She’s lived there a long time, works in the town’s only bank. She probably knows everyone there. It could only be a coincidence that she’s been seen with our suspects.”

“Maybe.” Kyle sounded skeptical. “But you know how I feel about coincidences.”

“She’s spent the past few days taking walks and swimming and sightseeing. She’s hardly spoken to any of Alexander’s staff. No suspicious meetings. No mysterious disappearances. She claims she’s nothing more than a friend of the owner, here on a vacation.”

“If she’s nothing more than Alexander’s newest bed toy, why is she there now, when he’s not even in the country? Why would he want her hanging around when he’s about to set up a transaction of this magnitude?”

As much as Reed didn’t want to think of Celia being involved with Alexander’s unsavory sideline, he was even less enthused about hearing her referred to as a “bed toy.” He’d spent the whole afternoon with her, damn it. His instincts about people were usually directly on target. And all his instincts told him that Celia Carson was exactly what she appeared to be. Good-natured. Restless. A bit naive. Honest.

But—rare though it had been—he had been wrong before. “Damn,” he growled, wishing for a moment that he had become a history teacher.

“What’s the matter, Hollander? Don’t tell me you’re starting to share Alexander’s tastes in PYTs?”

PYTs. Kyle’s dry, uncharitable way of referring to the pretty young things that Damien Alexander had made a hobby of collecting and discarding. Pretty young women like Celia Carson.

Innocent bystander? Eager mistress? Or calculating business associate?

Reed found, to his self-disgust, that he wasn’t nearly as certain as he should be about which label best fit the woman he was meeting for dinner in fifteen minutes.

“I’ve got to go,” he said abruptly. “Anything else you wanted to tell me?”

“No. I’ll be there when Alexander arrives.”

“Right. See you then.”

“Have fun, Reed. But watch your back.”

Reed growled a response and replaced the phone. He wasted another few minutes cursing himself for forgetting, even for a couple of hours, the careful objectivity he’d always prided.

It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again during this assignment, he promised himself.

Dressed in a royal blue silk T-shirt and a gauzy print skirt, Celia entered the restaurant lobby only five minutes later than she’d intended. She didn’t see Reed at first, though she quickly spotted the resort manager, Enrique Torres, and his wife, Helen, who were entering the restaurant at the same time as Celia.

“Miss Carson.” Torres greeted Celia with an overbright smile probably reserved for VIP guests. “Are you enjoying your stay with us?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Torres,” she replied. Oddly enough, she meant it this time. She’d had a better time today than she had since her arrival. “Your staff is very friendly and efficient,” she added, because he still looked a bit anxious. “I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend this resort to any of my friends for their vacations.”

His smile relaxed fractionally. “That’s very kind of you. Were you on your way in to the dining room?”

“Yes. I’ve been so busy sightseeing this afternoon that I’ve just now gotten around to dinner.”

That, too, seemed to please him. The guest was keeping herself entertained. He nodded toward his wife, who was chatting with another guest across the lobby. “Please, won’t you join us at our table? Helen and I will enjoy your company.”

“Thank you, but I’m meeting someone. As a matter of fact,” she added, when a hand fell lightly on her shoulder, “he’s here now.”

She smiled up at Reed, who returned the greeting with a slight nod. “Mr. Torres, have you met Reed Hollander?”

“Only briefly,” Torres replied, extending a hand. “Are you enjoying your stay with us, Mr. Hollander?”