A Match for Celia

She shook her head quickly, as though to clear it. “Nothing. I’m just sorry our day is coming to an end. It’s been so nice.”

“We could always spend the night here, in San Antonio,” he suggested cautiously. “See some of the other local attractions tomorrow.”

She searched his face, wondering what, exactly, he meant by the invitation. Was he really only suggesting that they extend their friendly sightseeing excursion? Se

parate rooms, no strings, no expectations?

Or was he hinting that he wanted to spend the night with her? Together. One room. One bed.

She honestly didn’t have a clue.

Not for the first time, she regretted her sheltered upbringing, blaming that inexperience for her inability to understand Reed now. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She didn’t want to lead him on—nor did she want to make assumptions that could prove embarrassing for both of them if she was wrong.

It seemed safest to smile, shake her head, and say, “That sounds really nice, but I guess we’d better go back to the resort. My family might call, and they’d worry if I wasn’t there.”

He nodded, apparently unaffected by her decision. “Fine. We’d better plan to leave here no later than 10:00 p.m. Even then, it will be well after midnight before we get back to the island.”

“All right. Will you be too tired to drive? I’m afraid I don’t drive very well late at night.”

“I’ll drive,” he assured her.

“You won’t be too tired?” she persisted, and then wondered if she wanted him to talk her into staying, after all.

He shook his head. “I’ve been known to keep late hours—especially during tax season,” he added with a slight smile. “I’ll be fine. Now, how about dessert?”

True to their plans, they left San Antonio behind at just after 10:00 p.m. Buckled into the passenger seat, Celia was rather quiet during the early part of the trip. Reed reached out and tuned the radio to a soft-rock channel, leaving her to her thoughts as he concentrated on his own.

He wasn’t immune to the pleasures of driving the expensive, powerful car—nor to a faint sense of guilt at helping himself to the property of a man he fully intended to destroy.

“Celia?” he asked after they’d been traveling for nearly an hour in near silence.

“Mmm?” She sounded half asleep, though her eyes were open.

“When were you planning to go home?”

“I’ve got another week of vacation,” she murmured. “I hadn’t really intended to spend two full weeks here, but of course I didn’t know Damien would be called away so quickly. I considered leaving this weekend, but Damien wants me to stay a few more days.”

Reed felt the muscles tense at the back of his neck. He really hated the way Celia said the other guy’s name in such a comfortably familiar manner. “I’m sure he was disappointed that he couldn’t be here with you this past week,” he said noncommittally.

“He said he was. I understood, though. As I pointed out to him, there was no way he could have predicted the storm that hit his resort in the Caribbean. I’m sure he assumes I’ve been having a great time relaxing and being pampered by his staff at the resort.”

“He doesn’t know you very well if he thinks you’d be content for long to sit around doing nothing.” Reed couldn’t help pointing it out.

Celia shrugged. “He doesn’t know me that well, actually. We met some time ago, but we haven’t spent much time together. One of the purposes of this visit was so that we could get to know each other better.”

“Testing the waters, as it were?” he asked, keeping his tone bland.

There was a short silence before she answered. “Just getting to know each other better,” she repeated, a bit curtly.

He told himself to shut up. Reminded himself that his only interest in Celia’s relationship with Alexander was a professional one. And still he heard himself saying, “I think you should go home, Celia. Tomorrow, preferably.”

She turned her head to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cursing himself for a fool, he doggedly continued, “Alexander isn’t your type. He goes through pretty young women like you the way some people devour a can of peanuts.”

Celia groaned loudly. “Not you, too. I would have thought that you, at least, would be above believing gossip and rumors.”

“You have to admit the guy lives in the fast lane, Celia. He isn’t like the people you know back home in Percy. This isn’t just an average, ordinary Joe we’re talking about.”