of activities lined up for this afternoon,” she suggested helpfully.
Reed made a face. “Yes. Parasailing and volleyball. Or for the more sedate guests—a bridge tournament.”
“None of those appeal to you, I take it?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid not. I’ll probably just sit by the pool this afternoon. I brought an intriguing-looking book with me—a newly published account of the invasion of Normandy. This seems like a good time to start it.”
Celia couldn’t think of anything less appealing than sitting by the pool reading a World War II history book. Honestly, this guy was worse than she was when it came to vacations! She forced a smile. “Sounds…relaxing,” she said.
“Yes, though I’m sure you have much more exciting plans.”
Oh, yeah, she had great plans. Walking down the beach envying everyone who wasn’t alone. Counting her yawns. Maybe she’d strike up a fascinating conversation with a hermit crab.
“There’s so much to do here, it’s hard to decide where to start,” she said, wondering if her bright smile looked as fake and plastic as it felt.
Reed looked wistful. “I suppose it must seem that way to most people,” he murmured.
Celia glumly agreed. So much to do…yet, she and this poor schmuck were feeling as out of place as two nuns at an orgy.
Funny, she hadn’t realized how truly unadventurous her life had become in the past couple of years. So much so, she seemed to have almost forgotten how to play altogether.
Her older sister would understand. After being widowed at a young age, left with two small children to raise and her late husband’s business to run, Rachel had had little time for fun and relaxation. But recently she’d met Seth Fletcher, a laid-back lawyer a few years her junior, and Seth had brought fun back into Rachel’s life. Now they were making wedding plans.
Celia heartily approved. She had already grown very fond of her almost brother-in-law. She’d seen the new happiness glowing in her sister’s dark eyes…and she couldn’t quite ignore a touch of envy. Rachel had found love twice, while Celia was still waiting for romance to find her.
Their brother, Cody, the middle Carson sibling, didn’t need anyone to teach him about having fun. He would have hooted in derision at Celia’s inability to enjoy herself in this hedonistic paradise. Though Cody had settled down some since his party-hearty college days, which had ended when he’d quit during his sophomore year, he was still the most spontaneous and energetic member of the family. He was always the joker, always the life of the party, though he was no longer the heavy drinker he’d been before a near-tragic car accident had turned him into a teetotaler. Cody now owned half interest in a moderately profitable country-western restaurant and dance club in which nothing stronger than beer was served to the loyal patrons, but the responsibilities of his job hadn’t dimmed his sense of fun.
Celia couldn’t help wondering what had happened to her own.
She’d almost forgotten that Reed Hollander was still standing nearby until he suddenly cleared his throat and brought her out of her somber introspection. “Be careful of that sun,” he warned. “It’s getting close to the dangerous stage, and you don’t want to burn that fair skin of yours.”
He was studying her face as he spoke. His scrutiny seemed more analytical than personal, an almost scientific assessment of the affects of ultraviolet light on her complexion. Celia thought in wry amusement that the brief time she’d spent with this man certainly hadn’t done anything to boost her ego. So far, he’d behaved rather like an indulgent uncle.
Which, of course, was exactly the way she wanted him to behave, she assured herself hastily. Damien Alexander—her conspicuously absent host—was the only man she should be concentrating on for now, even if she should find herself suddenly, unexpectedly attracted to someone else.
Not that she was, of course.
Feeling her cheeks going suddenly warm, she took a hasty step away from Reed Hollander. “Enjoy your book,” she said, her tone politely dismissive.
“Thanks. Have a nice day,” he answered cheerily.
Blinking a bit, Celia watched him walk away.
Have a nice day? The man was a walking cliché, for heaven’s sake. He even talked like a tax accountant. He was exactly like the men she knew back in Percy—genial, dependable, hardworking, predictable. Ordinary.
The type of men who made Damien Alexander look so dashing, exciting and fascinating in contrast.
Turning back to her walk, Celia told herself that the only reason she was spending any time at all thinking about Reed Hollander was because Damien wasn’t around. What other reason could there possibly be?
Celia saw Reed again when she returned from her long walk down the beach. He was sitting by the pool, seemingly absorbed in his thick hardcover book. Celia didn’t think he even noticed when she passed within a few feet of his chair on her way to her suite.
Not that she’d particularly wanted him to notice, of course.
She had just stepped through the doors of her building when someone called her name. “Miss Carson! I’m glad I’ve found you.”
She looked around with a curious, lifted eyebrow. She saw Damien’s secretary again, rushing toward her from the hallway that led to the resort offices. “Is something wrong, Evan?”
He shook his dark head and smiled reassuringly. “No, not at all. Actually, Mr. Alexander is on the phone. He asked me to try to locate you. He wants to talk to you. I’ll transfer the call to your suite, if you like.”
Celia agreed and hurried toward her rooms. Maybe Damien was calling to tell her that he’d be rejoining her this evening, she thought hopefully. She envisioned an evening of dinner and dancing, strolling on the beach—all the things she’d looked forward to when she’d accepted his invitation.
“Celia?” Damien’s whiskey-smooth voice flowed through the lines between them. “I hope I haven’t called at a bad time.”
“No,” she assured him. Since she didn’t want him to ask for details about what she’d been doing to entertain herself in his absence, she asked, “Are you still in the islands?”
“I’m afraid so. And it looks like I’m going to be held up here for another forty-eight hours. The storm has all but devastated the resort, and I have to make sure all the repairs are underway before I can leave. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this, darling. If there was anything at all I could do to be there with you now, I would certainly do it.”
Though she was disappointed, Celia tried hard to be gracious about it. “I understand, Damien. You certainly had no control over the weather. I’m only sorry so much damage was done to your resort. Was anyone hurt?”
“My manager was trapped beneath a fallen tree and suffered multiple fractures of his right leg. His injuries were the most serious anyone suffered, but he’s expected to make a full recovery. Fortunately, there was enough warning to evacuate the resort before the storm hit. Only a few staff members remained behind—by their own choice.”
“And the buildings?”
