all of it, of course. One had only to look into his wicked blue eyes to know that he had more experience with women than most men dreamed of.
And Celia was well aware that he hadn’t gotten where he was by always being a “nice guy.” Damien could be ruthless in business, thoughtless and sometimes arrogant in his personal life. But he wasn’t the shameless heartbreaker or relentless debaucher he’d so often been labeled. He’d been a perfect gentleman with her from the first time he’d taken her to dinner.
Rachel might not trust Damien, but Celia did, for the most part. She never would have accepted his invitation if she hadn’t trusted him to not force her into anything she didn’t want.
She had been so bored lately, so restless, so hungry for change and adventure in her depressingly routine existence. Still, it had taken her several weeks to decide whether to accept Damien’s generous offer of a free vacation at this resort. He’d made it clear from the first that he expected to be here with her, as a companion, a guide—and a lover, if she’d agree. He hadn’t been pushy about it, but he’d let her know that was what he hoped would happen. Celia had finally accepted, on the condition that he give her time after her arrival to decide if she wanted him as anything more than a good friend.
Of course, neither of them could have known that the question would turn out to be academic, at least for the first few days of her visit. Damien could hardly seduce her from a faraway island in the Caribbean.
She remembered the discomfort she’d felt when she’d told Reed Hollander that she was Damien’s guest. She knew what he must have thought. What anyone would have thought.
She’d been foolish to immediately try to convince him that she and Damien were nothing more than friends. For one thing, it was none of the accountant’s business. For another, why should it bother her so badly for someone to think she and Damien were lovers when she’d been seriously considering making that suspicion a reality?
Really, she thought with a rueful shake of her head. Her small-town upbringing had a nasty habit of cropping up at the most inconvenient times!
Celia left her room later that morning determined to do something interesting. Here she was in a tropical paradise and she’d been sitting alone moping! How depressing.
She’d come to this resort in search of adventure. A break from a life that had become so safe and predictable that there were times she had thought she’d scream in frustration. After the weeks she’d spent working up her shaky courage to come, it was ridiculous to spend the whole time hiding in her room, just because she didn’t know how to have a good time on her own.
The first person she saw when she stepped out of her suite was a tall, well-dressed man coming out of Damien’s rooms. He smiled when he saw her. “Miss Carson,” he greeted her. “Good morning. Is there anything you need?”
“No, thank you, Evan. I was just on my way out to find something to do. I’m rather tired of sitting in my room.” And wasn’t that an understatement?
Damien’s personal secretary’s dark face creased with a worried frown. “Aren’t you having a nice time, Miss Carson? Mr. Alexander told everyone to make sure you enjoyed yourself in his absence. Is there anything I can do to make your stay with us more pleasant?”
Celia shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just wing it for a few hours. I’m sure I’ll have a lovely day.”
“If you need anything—anything at all—just ask one of the resort staff,” Evan reminded her. “The social director has a full list of activities arranged for today. The schedule is posted in the main lobby. If you don’t find anything on the list that you’d like to do, perhaps we can arrange something special for you.”
Celia nodded and thanked him again, biting the inside of her lip against a rueful smile. Damien must have left stern orders concerning her welfare while he was gone. His entire staff had all but turned handsprings to please her. Unfortunately, their attention made her rather uncomfortable.
She simply wasn’t used to this.
She slid a pair of sunglasses onto her nose as she stepped out of the relatively small side building that housed her suite, Damien’s rooms and the resort offices. She spotted a few white-jacketed resort employees among the milling guests, but made no move to attract attention. She certainly didn’t want anyone else hovering over her to make sure she was having fun!
She turned and slipped quietly down the path that led to the beach.
Chapter Two
A wide strip of sand stretched from the resort complex to the Gulf beach. The beach was markedly uncrowded in contrast to the plethora of buildings on either side behind her. Farther north, the island was untamed and undeveloped, an eighty-four-mile stretch of federally maintained sand dunes and sea oats, popular with bird-watchers and beachcombers. Yet this part of the not-quite-three-mile-wide island at the southernmost tip of Texas was completely covered with resorts, condominiums, hotels and restaurants.
Damien’s resort—the Alexander—was one of the largest on the island, a huge complex built in a horseshoe shape around fountains, pools, tennis courts, volleyball nets, a lushly landscaped common. A health club, sauna, game room, restaurant, snack bar, and a lounge were part of the amenities provided for the guests; not to mention a variety of activities including horseback riding, parasailing, sailboarding, golf, fishing… Name it, and Damien made sure it was available.
So why was Celia so darned bored?
Standing at the edge of the sandy beach, she looked wistfully at the few couples lying cozily beneath colorful umbrellas, or strolling along the water’s edge, looking for seashells. One romantic-looking duo in the distance were arm in arm as they wandered slowly out of sight.
Celia sighed and kept walking.
Then she stopped again when a familiar figure caught her eye.
She smiled.
The “attractive in an average sort of way” accountant she’d met that morning was standing at the edge of the beach, brushing sand from the hem of his neatly creased gray slacks. His once shiny accountant’s shoes were coated with sand and there was a piece of broken shell stuck in the one-inch cuff of his right pant leg. His only concession to the casual atmosphere had been to turn up the sleeves of his dark gray shirt into neat, precisely matched cuffs.
His crisp, short hair was a bit wind-tossed, so that it ruffled over the tops of his horn-rimmed glasses. She watched as he ran a hand through the recalcitrant lock and efficiently restored it to its rightful place.
“Mr. Hollander,” she said, hoping her amusement at his out-of-place attire wasn’t evident in her voice. “We meet again.”
She appeared to have caught him by surprise. He blinked at her through his glasses, then smiled. “Miss Carson?”
“Celia,” she corrected him, because it seemed ridiculous to be so formal on a beach.
“And I’m Reed,” he reminded her. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Are you having a good time?” she asked with a perfectly straight face.
He exhaled deeply and glanced around him. “I’m trying to. My parents would be terribly disappointed if I didn’t.”
