A Match for Celia

“Anything you want,” he promised recklessly. “Today—and always.”

She swallowed, wondering if he’d meant that the way it sounded. “Always?” she repeated carefully.

“For the rest of my life,” he said, his tone even and utterly sincere.

“Wow,” she breathed.

He laughed. “I’m taking that as a yes,” he warned her.

She drew a shaken breath, then nodded. “That’s a yes.”

He kissed her tenderly. “You really have gotten brave lately, haven’t you?”

She smiled and rested her cheek against his chest. “I might even take up parasailing. I suppose you’ve done it before, despite what you led me to believe before.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve…er…tried quite a few things I haven’t mentioned.”

“I’ll just bet you have,” Celia muttered, the earlier image of the mild-mannered, rather shy and cautious tax accountant almost a joke now. How could she have ever fallen for it in the first place?

“You did come here looking for adventure, didn’t you?” he asked teasingly.

“True. Of course, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Reed scowled suddenly. “I know what you had in mind,” he muttered. “And exactly who you had in mind. But we’ll let that go for now.”

“Big of you, considering I haven’t asked one question about the gorgeous redhead you introduced as your partner,” she retorted pointedly.

“Kyle?” He seemed surprised that she’d even mention the other woman.

“Kyle.”

“She’s a friend. A good friend.”

“And so is Damien,” Celia said sweetly. “Okay?”

He shook his head at the realization that he’d just been neatly manipulated, but he agreed. “Okay.”

“Besides,” Celia said a moment later, her teasing mood returning, “I still don’t feel exactly adventurous. I’ve managed to get myself…er…hog-tied and branded by the first man I ever went to bed with. That’s pretty average and traditional, wouldn’t you say?”

Reed rolled onto his side, looming over her, a look of pure devilment in his clever hazel eyes. “I wouldn’t exactly call ours an average, traditional courtship, would you, love?”

Love. The simple endearment made her shiver. “No,” she murmured dreamily. “It hasn’t been average and traditional.”

His lips moved against hers. “I think we have quite a few adventures still in store for us.”

She pulled him closer, her pulse already racing in anticipation. “Oddly enough—I feel the same way,” she murmured just before Reed covered her mouth with his.

Epilogue

Frances Carson’s doorbell chimed at the same time her telephone began to ring early Saturday evening. She rushed to the door and threw it open. “Come on in, Lila. I have to answer the phone.”

She dashed into the kitchen just as her friend came into the living room. They were on their way to a choir special at their church, and Frances didn’t want to be late, but she could never leave the telephone ringing unanswered. “Hello?”

Several minutes later, Frances rejoined her friend in the other room, the telephone call over.

Lila was still standing, her purse and gloves in her hands, her posture impatient. “We really must be going, Frances, or we’ll never get a decent seat. You know how I hate to be late.”

Her fussing broke off suddenly as she searched her longtime friend’s face. “Frances, what is it? Is something wrong? You look…”