A Match for Celia

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?”