A Match for Celia

“I don’t want to keep you from your work. I’m quite capable of entertaining myself for a few hours a day.”

“Have you talked to your family while you’ve been here?” Damien asked inconsequentially.

“Only to Granny Fran. Why?”

Damien’s eyes glinted in the candlelight. “I thought maybe Rachel would have called to see if I’ve thoroughly corrupted you, yet.”

Celia giggled. “She would be afraid to ask.”

Damien gave an exaggerated sigh. “What would I have to do to convince your sister that I’m really a very decent, trustworthy guy?”

Celia pretended to give his question some thought. “Join the priesthood, I think,” she answered at length.

Damien widened his eyes and managed to look amused and horrified at the same time. “Anything but that.”

Celia laughed. “That’s exactly what I thought you would say. Forget it, Damien, Rachel will probably always believe that you’re a jaded, heartless seducer.”

With a rueful grimace, Damien shook his head. “If I’m such a master of seduction, how come I haven’t gotten past first base with you, hmm?”

Tossing her head, Celia grinned. “Maybe because my sister trained me so well?”

“Remind me to thank her sometime,” he murmured gloomily.

Amused, Celia turned her attention to her exquisitely prepared dinner. This, she reminded herself, was why she liked Damien so much. He made her laugh.

Unfortunately, he’d never made her tremble.

Damien suggested dancing after dinner. Celia forced a smile and told him that would be lovely. Her mind filled with images of dancing with Reed; she pushed them ruthlessly away, feeling vaguely guilty for thinking of him when she was out with Damien.

What an awkward situation she’d gotten herself into, she thought in exasperation as she and Damien went into the lounge and found a table. How Cody would laugh that his little sister, who so often complained of boredom, was now finding herself unexplainably involved with two men—one a well-known millionaire, the other a history-buff accountant!

She tried to imagine what Rachel would say. She almost shuddered at the thought. Rachel would be a nervous wreck over the whole situation. She would have to remind Celia how little she trusted Damien, how sordid his reputation was, how worried she was that Damien would use Celia and then abandon her, leaving her ego in shreds and her heart battered.

And then she would surely point out that Celia really didn’t know Reed any better than she did Damien. Sure, he said he was a straight-arrow accountant, a fine, upstanding citizen, Rachel would say, but how did Celia really know any of that was true? For all she knew, Reed could be a…well, an ax murderer or something.

“What’s so funny?” Damien asked after he’d ordered drinks. He was giving Celia a quizzical look across the little table he’d found for them.

She blushed, realizing she’d laughed aloud at her imaginary conversation with her sister. “Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking about Rachel.”

Damien looked exasperated. He motioned around them to indicate their cozy, romantic surroundings. “I’m trying to seduce you and you’re thinking about your sister? You really aren’t helping me out here, Celia.”

She only laughed again, not taking him particularly seriously. Damien was always saying things like that. “I was just picturing what Rachel would say if she could see us now,” she prevaricated.

Damien winced. “Don’t even tell me,” he begged. “Your sister is really terrible on my ego.”

“Damien, sweetie, your ego couldn’t be dented with a jack-hammer,” Celia retorted sweetly, making him laugh.

They danced until almost midnight. Damien danced with more skill and style than Reed had, his steps expert and dashing. He murmured teasing sweet nothings in her ear at times, his flattery so charming and outrageous that Celia giggled, making other couples smile indulgently at them. She had a lovely time.

But never once did she tremble in Damien’s arms. Damn it.

Damien had his arm around Celia’s waist as he led her down the hallway toward their suites. He’d had a bit too much champagne in the lounge; his steps were just perceptibly unsteady.

He nuzzled Celia’s temple with his lips as they approached their doors. “I don’t suppose…”

“No,” she said with a smile, completely sober. She’d had only one glass of champagne, herself.

He hefted a sigh. “I didn’t think so. I fully expected to pay for standing you up for a week. You’ve been plotting this for days, haven’t you, darling?”