A Match for Celia

Meeting her eyes across the restaurant, Reed nodded impersonally, never slowing down as he followed the now brusquely businesslike maître d’ to

a solitary table near the redhead’s. Reed was wearing his glasses again, Celia noted, and his accountant’s casual wear of neatly pressed shirt and dark slacks.

Most women would probably be more impressed by Damien’s magazine-cover good looks and sharply tailored, latest-style clothing. Celia was beginning to think she wasn’t at all like “most women.”

“Your sightseeing friend, isn’t it?” Damien asked, proving he was as observant as she had been a moment earlier.

Celia deliberately dragged her attention away from Reed. “Yes.”

“Should we ask him to join us?” The offer seemed to be a sincere one.

Celia shook her head. She didn’t at all like the idea of sharing a table with Damien and Reed. “Let’s not.”

Damien looked pleased. “Good. I don’t want to share you, either.”

She realized that he’d misinterpreted her refusal, but she made no effort to correct him. Instead, she encouraged him to tell her more about his plans for the central Arkansas resort.

She succeeded nicely in changing the subject. Damien was always eager to talk about himself, and the resorts of which he was inordinately proud. Fortunately, he was never boring about it, and he encouraged her questions and comments, seeming to value her input.

Celia listened attentively, genuinely interested in the project which could be such a huge financial boon for her hometown area. She was satisfied that Damien never realized how often her gaze wandered to Reed’s table.

She was watching when the sexy redhead accidentally knocked over a full glass of water, spilling the contents over her linen tablecloth. The woman jumped up with a startled cry, narrowly avoiding having the water in her lap. Half the restaurant’s staff converged on the table to assist her as she stood there looking embarrassed.

Having been seated so close by, Reed stood and motioned courteously toward the empty chair at his table. Celia continued to watch as he introduced himself to her with the diffident smile she so easily recognized.

To Celia’s hidden dismay, the woman accepted Reed’s invitation to join him. Mike, the waiter Celia associated with especially helpful and friendly service, made sure the woman was comfortably settled at Reed’s table and took their orders, then left Reed and the woman to get acquainted.

“Your accountant friend is certainly quick to take advantage of an opening, isn’t he?” Damien asked, sounding both amused and admiring.

“Isn’t he, though?” Celia agreed curtly.

Damien lifted an eyebrow at her tone, but smoothly resumed the conversation about his tentatively planned resort.

Celia had to work harder than ever to pay full attention to her companion and keep her eyes away from the chatting couple across the room.

She saw them again later in the afternoon.

Damien was in one of the business meetings he’d warned her about, and Celia had taken the opportunity to rest in her room for a while before they were to leave for Matamoros. Tired, but not expecting to sleep, she lay on her bed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, nearly two hours had passed.

Yawning, and considerably refreshed from the nap, she stood and padded barefoot to the window, letting the fresh breeze blow the remnants of sleep from her mind.

It was then that she saw the couple walking on the beach, deep in conversation. A tall, dark-haired man. A tall, flame-haired woman. Reed and the clumsy woman from the restaurant, Celia realized, her fingers going tight on the windowsill.

As Damien had said, Reed certainly wasted no time.

Celia’s temper flared. Had he given this woman the old “poor little me, I’m vacationing all by myself” routine? Had he passed himself off to her as a slightly shy, socially awkward type?

Was he planning on taking her to his boring museums and then making them seem far less boring, the way he had with Celia?

“That—that—” She sputtered, unable to think of a word scathing enough to fit her mood at the moment.

Reed and the woman had already passed out of her sight before she cooled down enough to think rationally. Why was she so furious? It wasn’t as if Reed was being disloyal to her. For all he knew, she was sleeping with Damien Alexander. He’d made it clear that he hadn’t liked it, but she’d made it equally clear that she wasn’t asking his opinion.

Now it seemed she was being paid in kind. Reed was a single, unattached male who had every right to get friendly with a stunning, drop-dead gorgeous redhead, if he was fortunate enough to manage it. Why should Celia hate it so much?

But she did. Oh, how she hated it!

She pressed icy hands to burning cheeks, appalled at the realization that had just hit her.