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“But don’t you ever take time off?”
“Of course I do. But with him having been gone this week, we’re all a bit behind. I’ll take extra time off when we catch up.”
“You’re a very dedicated employee, Evan,” Celia told him, as somber as he was. “Damien’s lucky to have you working for him.”
Evan permitted himself a smile. “I consider myself very fortunate to be working for Mr. Alexander. All his employees feel that way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to it.”
Amused, Celia watched Evan hurry away. Nice guy, she thought, but borderline hypertensive.
“Blind loyalty. Nice quality in an employee, if you can find it,” Reed said dryly from behind her.
Celia swung around so quickly she almost ended up in the fountain. Reed reached out to steady her with a hand on her arm. “You startled me,” she accused him unnecessarily. And undeservedly, she reminded herself guiltily. Hadn’t she just been hoping he would appear?
“Sorry.” But he didn’t look particularly repentant. Actually, he looked great. His close-fitting, pale blue knit shirt emphasized his dark tan and nicely developed muscles, and the loose-fitting jeans hinted that he was in excellent condition below the waist, as well. At the moment, he didn’t look at all like her concept of the average tax accountant.
“What are you doing?” he asked, while she was still surreptitiously admiring him.
She cleared her throat and looked hastily toward the fountain. “I was just watching the fish.”
Reed glanced at the koi, then across the compound, and then turned back to her. “Cheerleader alert.”
Celia blinked, then suddenly understood. She looked over her shoulder. Mindi Kellogg, the determinedly cheerful social director, was making a beeline toward them across the compound, clipboard in hand. “Oh, God. Now what?”
“Want to get out of here?”
“Yes,” she said immediately.
He held out his hand. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“Sounds like an excellent idea.” She placed her hand in his.
Chapter Six
Even though it was a weekend, the beach was pleasantly uncrowded. Reed claimed a large umbrella and two beach chairs, making one of his typical comments about keeping Celia out of the sun.
“You’re tanned,” she remarked, nodding toward his brown arm. “Why are you so concerned about me getting some sun?”
“You’re lighter skinned,” he replied promptly. “Statistics show that people with fairer skin tend to burn more easily, leading to a higher incidence of cell damage and skin cancer. One out of every—”
“Enough.” She held up her hand in laughing protest. “I should have known an accountant would have a wealth of statistics to support his arguments.”
Reed gave her an apologetic smile. “Job hazard.”
“Yes, I’m sure. But if it makes you feel any better, I slathered myself in sunblock this morning. The waterproof kind that’s supposed to last for hours.”
He nodded gravely. “Regular use of sunblock is a smart habit, of course. But it still doesn’t hurt to be careful.”
“Are you ever not careful, Reed?” she asked just a bit wistfully.
He seemed to give her question deep consideration before he murmured, “Most of the time I am.”
“And just what happens when you’re not?” she asked, trying to tease.
He didn’t smile. “I’ll let you know.”
That didn’t make a lot of sense to her. She started to ask him to explain, but he forestalled her by asking if she was hungry. “We should have arranged to bring a picnic basket.”
She shrugged. “We’ll get fast food later. I’m not hungry now, are you?”
