A Match for Celia

The frown that darkened his face whenever Damien’s name came up almost seemed to indicate that he was jealous. But why? It wasn’t as though he and she were anything more than friends—casual ones, at that. After all, they hardly knew each other.

But did she really know Damien any better?

She groaned and slapped a hand against her forehead. She could drive herself crazy this way! She should have listened to Rachel, and stayed at home where she belonged.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered aloud. “Might as well join a convent.”

All in all, that might just be the safest choice, she thought with a wry grimace.

The resort lounge was a tropical paradise of exotic flowers, shadowy corners, flickering lights and strategically placed rock waterfalls. The polished, wooden dance floor was in the center of the room, small tables arranged in cozy grottos around it. A band played from a stage nearly hidden in lush greenery.

Celia felt almost as though she’d just stepped out of Texas and into the Caribbean.

“This is the first time I’ve been in here,” she told Reed when they were seated at a table in a secluded corner. “It’s beautiful.”

“Staged romance,” he said dismissively.

Celia frowned at him. “Is there anything about this resort that pleases you?” she demanded, exasperated by his attitude.

He reached out to touch her cheek. “Yes. You’re here.”

She blushed. She was very glad to see the cocktail waitress who approached their table at that opportune moment.

They placed their drink orders, then looked at each other again across the tiny table.

“Did I remember to tell you how nice you look this evening?” Reed asked.

“Yes,” Celia answered with a smile. “But thank you again.”

Reed looked very nice, himself, in a charcoal dress shirt and black dress slacks. He seemed to favor dark colors, on the whole. Maybe because someone had told him how good they looked on him.

Celia looked quickly toward the dance floor. “It isn’t very crowded tonight. Most of the other guests must have chosen to see the film.”

“They didn’t have the option of spending the evening with you,” Reed said.

She blinked. He had been saying outrageous things like that all evening. “Reed, are you flirting with me?” she asked, unable to hold it back any longer.

He smiled. “Yes.”

“Why?”

His smile turned to a chuckle. “Why are you so surprised?” he countered.

“Well…because,” she answered lamely. “We’ve spent several days together and you haven’t flirted with me before.” Unless, of course, one counted those kisses—which she supposed she should.

“Let’s just say I need the practice,” he said lightly, then pushed his chair back. “Dance with me?”

Looking at him a bit warily, she stood and placed her hand in his outstretched one.

The song was a slow, bluesy number. Only three other couples were on the dance floor, locked closely together, oblivious to spectators. Ignoring them in return, Reed smiled down at Celia and took her in his arms.

He held her close, but not so tightly that she was uncomfortable. His hand rested discreetly at the small of her waist, his palm warm through the thin fabric of the white dress. His other hand clasped hers, firmly, almost possessively.

She trembled.

“Are you cold?” Reed asked solicitously, leading her into a slow, swaying rhythm.

“No,” she whispered, then managed to regain her voice. “It’s been a while since I’ve danced,” she added, as though in explanation of her hesitancy.