A Match for Celia

“Just a figure of speech. I think two or three would be plenty for me,” Celia replied, rinsing off a gray shell she’d dug out of the sand. She was pleased to find it in excellent condition. She added it to the sack.

She glanced up at Reed. “What about you? When are you going to settle down with your own little brood?” she teased.

He grimaced. “Now you sound just like my mother. She’s been dropping broad hints about grandchildren since I graduated from college. She even comes right out and demands some occasionally. I told her I have no intention of having kids until I find someone I wouldn’t mind raising them with—and that just hasn’t happened, yet.”

Celia nodded in sympathy. “I know the feeling. I don’t want to get married and raise children until I’m absolutely sure I’m ready. How could I teach them anything about life if I haven’t even experienced it myself, yet?”

Reed was watching her with that thoughtful, assessing expression again. She blushed, suddenly aware of how personal the conversation had become. She turned away. “Here’s another one,” she said quickly, bending to dig up a shell and hoping her activity would hide her sudden embarrassment.

It was very late that afternoon when they returned to the resort. The paper bag clinked with the shells they’d gathered for Paige and Aaron. Both Celia and Reed were windblown, slightly sunburned and liberally coated with sand. Celia’s hair had dried in a salty tangle, and her makeup was long gone. She didn’t care.

She’d had a blissfully wonderful day.

Reed hadn’t attempted to kiss her again, but there had been a new warmth in his eyes when he looked at her—which he seemed to do a lot. His touches had been casual—brushing back a lock of her hair, steadying her on the sandy beach, a touch of hands when he handed her a particularly nice shell—but each time, he seemed in no hurry to break the contact. He’d lingered just long enough to make her fully conscious of his warmth, his strength, before he drew away.

He walked her to her suite, but he made no attempt to enter. Celia was tempted to ask him in for a drink from the fully stocked wet bar, but she found herself hesitating, uncertain how he would take the invitation. Not quite sure what she wanted, herself. After those kisses in the surf, she wouldn’t blame him for thinking she was offering more of the same—and then some.

But was she really ready for that?

While she hesitated, Reed touched her cheek, brushing away a bit of sand. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said, and it wasn’t exactly a request.

It would be their last night together, Celia thought, suddenly pensive. For the first time in hours, she remembered Damien. He would arrive tomorrow, and she would be obliged to spend time with her host. She sensed that there would be no more leisurely afternoons with Reed once Damien appeared, determined to entertain her and make up for lost time.

The thought of saying goodbye to Reed elicited a tug of sadness somewhere deep inside her.

She was growing more confused with each passing hour. She wondered if Damien’s presence would make her more certain of what she wanted—or if he would only confuse her more.

“Celia?” Reed said, sounding impatient. “Dinner?”

“Yes,” she said recklessly. “Give me a couple of hours to shower and change and rest a bit. I’ll meet you in the restaurant at seven-thirty.”

He nodded, and the lines around his mouth seemed to relax slightly. “There’s a live band in the lounge this evening. Maybe we’ll listen to them a while after dinner—dance a bit, perhaps.”

She thought of the film that would be shown in the resort theater, the one to which Evan had personally invited her. Popcorn and a movie—or dancing with Reed? She realized there was little contest. “That sounds nice,” she said.

“Then I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”

“Fine.” Sh

e placed her hand on her doorknob.

Reed hesitated, his gaze focused intently on her mouth. She could feel her lips tingling, almost as if he’d already kissed her. She resisted a strong urge to moisten her lips with her tongue.

The taut moment seemed to stretch for a very long time. And then Reed took a quick step backward, and hooked his thumbs in the back waistband of his jeans. Keeping his hands out of trouble, perhaps?

“Later,” he said gruffly, then turned and walked away.

Celia had already closed herself inside her suite before she finally remembered how to breathe normally again.

On an impulse, Celia dressed up that evening. Her sleeveless white dress fit closely at the bodice, then flared softly from the hips to sway flirtatiously at her knees. She added strappy white sandals, glittering earrings and bracelet, then swept her dark hair up and secured it with a sparkling rhinestone clip. It was an outfit she’d purchased with Damien in mind; but tonight she wore it for Reed’s benefit.

The woman in the mirror looked very different from the windblown beachcomber of the afternoon. Celia studied her reflection thoughtfully, wondering which image came closer to the Celia Carson she wanted to be.

Jeans and T-shirts and fast-food restaurants suited the life she lived at home in Percy, and she’d been happy in that life. Most of the time. Expensive dresses and sparkling jewelry were more of what she could expect should her budding relationship with Damien Alexander continue to develop. She’d almost convinced herself that she wanted that more glamorous, more adventurous lifestyle. Until she’d met a so-called “average” tax accountant named Reed Hollander.

She sighed and shook her head. Was she really so fickle, to come to this island half prepared to begin an affair with one man only to find herself craving kisses from another? Who would believe that she, who had always been so careful, so fastidious, would find herself in this situation?

Part of the problem, she decided, trying to be objective, was that she wasn’t entirely sure what Reed wanted. He’d certainly made himself available to spend time with her—not that he’d had any better offers, apparently. He’d been a perfect gentleman, for the most part, and yet something about the way he looked at her…