style="font-size:15px;"> She smiled, and lifted her own cup. “Bless their little hearts,” she added and took an appreciative sip of the steaming brew.
Satisfied that they’d gotten off to a good start, Reed set his cup down and leaned back in his chair. “This resort isn’t my normal style of vacation,” he admitted. “The trip was a birthday gift from my parents. They said they’re trying to get me out of my usual boring routines.”
“And what do you usually do on vacation?” Celia asked, probably just to be making casual conversation.
“I’m not sure,” he confessed, a bit sheepishly. “I haven’t had a vacation in so long I’ve sort of forgotten how.” That part, at least, was the truth. “What about you?”
“I usually spend my vacations visiting my parents in St. Louis.” She motioned around her. “This isn’t my usual style, either. I’m here as a, umm, as a guest of the owner.”
Reed lifted an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Damien Alexander? You’re a friend of his?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
Reed shook his head and gave her a wry smile. “I’m a working stiff, remember? I don’t usually mingle with the rich and famous. I’ve read about him, though, in the business and society pages.”
He could have sworn Celia’s cheeks pinkened, though she looked away too quickly for him to be quite sure. “He and I met through business,” she explained. “We’ve become friends. I haven’t even seen him since I arrived. He was called away for an emergency at one of his other resorts the same day I flew in.”
There was a bit of a stammer in her explanation. A touch of self-consciousness, as if she were worried about what he might be thinking.
She was either a very talented actress, or nothing more than the quiet-living, small-town woman his background checks had indicated her to be. In which case, Reed rather pitied her. Alexander had a reputation for being attracted to innocent, unsophisticated young women. By the time he lost interest and moved on, they were neither innocent nor naive, though they were often considerably better off financially. Alexander had never been accused of not being generous with his…friends.
Reed wondered how far Alexander had already taken Celia Carson in her introduction to the fast-lane lifestyle. And then he reminded himself that it made no difference to him. All he wanted to know was how deeply involved Celia Carson was with Damien Alexander’s less publicized financial dealings.
Celia didn’t linger after finishing her coffee. She thanked him politely for the invitation, told him it had been very nice meeting him, and said she had a few calls to make. And then she turned and walked away.
Reed knew where she was going. To the luxurious suite she’d been provided, located directly across the hall from Alexander’s own private rooms. Confident that she had never noticed him, Reed had watched her enter and leave that suite half-a-dozen times or more during the past three days. Always alone.
And the more he’d watched her, the more she’d fascinated him, despite his best efforts to view her as nothing more than another routine assignment. A handy tool for bringing down another dangerous, unconscionable crime organization, an organization Damien Alexander was suspected of masterminding.
He ran a hand through his short, dark hair in self-annoyance. Maybe it was time for a vacation, he found himself thinking. A real one.
Celia took a leisurely shower, blow-dried her shoulder-length hair, then dressed in a brightly colored, short-sleeved cotton jumpsuit with a heavy macramé belt. It felt odd to be wearing summer-weight clothing in November; back home, she’d be more comfortable in a sweater and wool slacks.
She slid her feet into leather sandals, slipped a chunky gold-link bracelet over her wrist, donned a pair of dangly gold earrings and touched her eyelids with taupe eye shadow and her lips with a deep rose gloss. And then she sat on the edge of her bed and wondered what she was supposed to do for the rest of the day.
It was just after 10:00 a.m. Between the softly billowing curtains at her Gulf-view window, she could see that the other resort guests had begun to stir. There were a few in the pool, four or five on the beach, a couple going into the restaurant for a late breakfast. Everyone seemed to be with someone else. Couples, families, friends. No one appeared to be vacationing alone. No one except her, of course, she thought with a wry sigh.
And Reed Hollander.
She thought of the man she’d met by the pool that morning. She’d seen him around the resort a couple of times during the past few days. He’d looked exactly like the accountant he’d claimed to be. His neatly pressed shirts and slacks and sober horn-rimmed glasses had looked odd in contrast to the usual resort uniform of T-shirts and baggy shorts.
He’d been attractive, in a rather ordinary way. Neat dark hair, intelligent-looking hazel eyes, a nice—if somewhat bland—smile. She’d thought at first that he was making a clumsy attempt at a pickup when he asked her to join him for coffee this morning, but he’d been nothing more than politely friendly. Just another self-proclaimed working stiff looking for a little companionship over coffee.
Another misfit among the idle rich.
The unbidden thought annoyed her. Okay, so this wasn’t her usual style, she thought, looking around the exquisitely appointed suite in which she’d been staying for the past three days. Three lonely days.
She wasn’t accustomed to bathtubs that seemed as big as a small swimming pool, or beds the size of the kitchen in her efficiency apartment. The suite Damien had provided for her consisted of the bedroom, with its huge bed, antique fainting couch, enormous old armoire converted to hold a TV, VCR and stereo, complete with a selection of popular videos and CDs; a huge, shamelessly decadent bathroom; a walk-in closet she could have parked her little red sports car in; and a sitting room furnished with antiques that looked so valuable she was almost afraid to touch them.
She certainly wasn’t accustomed to having solicitous staff hovering at her elbow to cater to her every whim, as she was sure Damien had instructed them to do. She wasn’t used to sleeping late, or waking with nothing more to do than to pamper herself. She couldn’t quite grow comfortable with ordering anything she wanted from the restaurant’s extensive menu—without even glancing at the price! Expensive little chocolates left on her pillow, fresh flowers delivered daily to her room, exotic fruits in fancy little baskets flanked by small bottles of champagne with names she couldn’t even pronounce.
Just because she’d never lived this way before didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to like it. Eventually.
If only she had something to do to occupy her time. If only Damien hadn’t been called away. Damien made quite an art of being charming and entertaining.
She was fully aware that Damien also made quite an art of seduction.
Which brought her right back to the “moral dilemma” she’d been battling ever since Damien had extended the invitation for her to be his guest at this resort.
If Damien hadn’t been called away, would she have given in by now to his enticing smiles and skillful kisses? Would she have finally decided, once and for all, whether she wanted to become intimately involved with a man who’d kept the tabloid writers in a gleeful feeding frenzy for more than a decade now?
Celia liked Damien. She really did. Despite her older sister’s reservations—based
