A Match for Celia

“He and my assistant seem to be getting along well enough, don’t they? I asked Mark to keep Novotny entertained while he’s here—softening him up for the negotiations, of course—and he seems to be doing a fine job.”

“Yes, he’s been showing him all around the resort. I think they’d even been to the storage rooms behind the conference center before they joined me here. I’m sure Chuck’s impressed by the efficiency of your operation. I certainly have been.”

“Thank you,” Damien said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You said you saw them in the storage room area?”

Celia shook her head. “They were coming from that direction. I just assumed—”

Damien shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, though I can’t imagine why Chuck would have been interested in seeing holiday decorations and extra resort supplies.”

Celia smiled. “I can. Chuck’s just naturally nosy. He’s probably examined every inch of this place, whether it has anything to do with him or not.”

Damien dismissed Novotny with a wave of his neatly manicured hand. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he said, changing the subject. “Evan and Maris told me you’d stopped by the office.”

“Yes. I didn’t realize you were still in meetings. I love this koi pond, Damien. It’s lovely.”

“There’s one at each of my resorts,” he said, looking pleased. “I find it relaxing to watch them.”

“So do I.”

“See?” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I knew we had a lot in common.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Watching fish isn’t exactly a shared philosophy of life, Damien.”

“True. But it’s a start. Are you ready for an evening in old Mexico?”

She assured him he was. And then she wondered how she would find a way to tell him that she wouldn’t be sleeping with him during the few days she had left of her vacation—or ever, for that matter.

It wasn’t going to be an easy topic to work into their dinner conversation, she thought dryly. But somehow, before the evening ended, she had to find a way.

As it turned out, the opportunity for a serious conversation with Damien never arose. They were accompanied by two other couples on their night out in Matamoros, so Celia never found the right moment during dinner or dancing afterward.

She didn’t know why Damien had invited the other couples when he’d seemed so anxious to be alone with her. He hinted to her that they’d sort of invited themselves along. Celia knew that wasn’t exactly true; Damien wasn’t the sort of man to be manipulated. If the other couples had invited themselves, it had been because Damien encouraged them.

As he had before, Damien dominated the dinner conversation, keeping everyone laughing at his outrageous stories, generally acting the gracious, entertaining host. Celia was beginning to suspect that he was deliberately keeping her from having a serious talk with him that evening.

Had he started to suspect what she wanted to tell him? Was he hoping the outrageous flattery and megawatt smiles he showered on her during the evening would change her mind?

Her suspicions grew stronger when Damien drove her back to the resort. Even though they were alone in his car, he kept up that cheery monologue, hardly giving her time to say a word. Whenever he stopped for breath, he turned the radio up loudly enough to fill the void.

She promised herself that she would talk to him as soon as they returned to her suite. It was well past time that she got this settled—whether Damien wanted it to be or not.

They had just gotten out of Damien’s car when Evan appeared, a deep frown creasing his usually smooth forehead. “Mr. Alexander. Thank goodness you’re here.”

Damien sighed heavily. “What is it this time, Evan?”

“It’s that television actor, Mr. Alexander,” Evan replied with a slight curl of his lip. “He’s gotten drunk or high and started hitting the young woman with him. The police were called, and now the press has been alerted. The woman is not his wife, of course, and his wife is a well-known actress, as well, so…”

“…so,” Damien cut in, “it’s going to get ugly.”

“I’m afraid so, sir. The man is already talking about lawsuits against us—though what he could possibly sue us for, I can’t imagine.”

Us, Celia noted. Evan certainly took his job personally.

Damien turned to her with a look of apology. “Celia, I’m sorry—damn, I’ve been saying that a lot to you lately, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “And it really isn’t necessary. I know you have to deal with this.”

“It may take hours, damn it.”