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She was going to have to talk to Damien, she thought with a pang of reluctance. And she was going to have to make it soon.
She’d already taken advantage of his gracious hospitality badly enough. There was no excuse to prolong a flirtation that she now knew was going nowhere.
She’d come to Damien’s resort in search of what she thought she wanted, only to meet a man who represented everything she’d thought she didn’t want. How ironic that she had changed her mind now…when it might be too late to do anything about it.
Unable to stay alone in her room any longer, Celia changed into a soft cotton blouse and a long, tiered, printed-cotton skirt that seemed appropriate for an evening in Mexico. She brushed her hair and pulled it back with a bright bandanna for a headband and donned leather huaraches. And then she went in search of Damien.
He wasn’t in his rooms. Following her instincts, she headed for his offices.
The offices took up one entire wing of this building. A large, teal-and-cream area held desks for Damien’s secretaries, Evan and Maris, who were huddled over a stack of computer printouts when Celia entered. Both looked up when she came in.
Evan rose quickly to his feet. “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Carson?”
“Don’t let me disturb your work,” she said. “I was just looking for Damien.”
“Mr. Alexander is in a meeting,” Maris explained coolly, glancing at the closed, heavy oak door that led into Damien’s office.
“Oh.” Feeling like an interloper, Celia took a step backward toward the outer door. “Well…just tell him I’ll be around whenever he’s ready for dinner, will you?”
Maris nodded and turned her attention back to her work.
Evan was a bit more courteous. With an apologetic smile, he explained that he and Maris were preparing for a large convention that was to take place at the resort the week after Thanksgiving. He offered Celia a cup of coffee, which she politely declined. She left quickly.
At loose ends, she wandered around the resort, watching the other guests, picturing the facilities invaded by conventioneers, finally ending up back at the koi pond that drew her so often. She watched the colorful, contented-looking fish and found her thoughts turning to her family.
In St. Louis, Celia’s mother was deeply involved with charities and her bridge club while her husband pursued his career as an adolescent psychologist. Back home in Arkansas, Rachel would be making plans for her wedding, which was to be held on New Year’s Eve. The children, Paige and Aaron, were in school, counting the weeks until Christmas holidays. Cody was busy with his work and his friends. Granny Fran was probably already baking for her annual, extravagant Thanksgiving dinner.
Hard to believe Thanksgiving was only a little over a week away, Celia mused, aware of the tropical heat around her. The whole family would be together then, crowded into Granny Fran’s house, as always. Aunt Arlene, who was a few years older than Celia’s father and had been widowed for many years, would come with her successful, plastic-surgeon son, Adam. Celia’s parents would fly in from St. Louis, and Cody, Rachel, Paige and Aaron would certainly all be there.
Rachel’s fiancé, Seth, would join them this year—a new member of the close-knit clan. That would probably be the only noticeable difference, Celia thought wryly. The menu would be the same as always—turkey and
dressing, homemade cranberry sauce, home-canned green beans cooked with pork seasoning, homegrown sweet corn, mashed sweet potatoes covered with toasted marshmallows, butter-dripping yeast rolls and a dessert table filled with pumpkin pies, pecan pies, coconut pies, chocolate pies. A diet counselor’s nightmare; a food lover’s dream.
Granny Fran would be happy as a pig in sunshine—as Frances herself would say—surrounded by her loved ones, thriving on their compliments of her weeks of preparation, assuring everyone it had been no trouble at all. Aunt Arlene would complain of her health and sigh delicately because no one truly understood her pain. Adam would make a few subtly barbed comments and try to hide his impatience to get back to work. Dad and Mom would fuss over their grown children’s health and shamelessly spoil their grandchildren, while Rachel kept a close eye on the kids and Cody played outrageous practical jokes on everyone.
And Celia—Celia would mingle and laugh and chatter as she always did, wishing she understood how she could be so happy and so restless all at the same time.
From a secluded corner across the resort compound, Reed watched Celia watching the fish. She looked lonely, he couldn’t help thinking. It was all he could do to keep himself from crossing the distance between them and taking her in his arms.
If only he could be sure…
His fists clenched at his sides when Celia was suddenly joined by two men, Mark Chenault and Chuck Novotny. The three fell into conversation in which Celia participated with apparent ease.
Reed knew exactly why Novotny was here—and it had nothing to do with selling property to Alexander Resorts. In reality, Novotny was the buyer, and weapons the merchandise. Reed wasn’t sure how deeply Chenault was involved, though he knew Chenault was Alexander’s trusted personal assistant and would probably do anything his employer requested. But what about Celia?
He was growing increasingly certain that there was no physical relationship between Celia and Alexander—at least, not during the past few days. Reed had been watching them very closely. Usually with clenched fists.
So why was she here? Why would Alexander invite her here at the same time Novotny was at the resort? Was he using her for cover? Hoping it looked more natural for one to be here if the other was? Or was she more of a business liaison between the man who would like to make her his mistress and her longtime, hometown acquaintance?
The doubts were driving Reed crazy. His partner was beginning to get seriously concerned—and so was Reed, for that matter.
For the first time in his law-enforcement career, the woman he’d been ordered to watch was becoming more important to him than his duty.
Celia was relieved when Damien arrived and Mark and Chuck made their departure. She’d tried to be friendly when they’d come upon her, but it had taken a great effort on her part. She was still stinging from her curt encounter with Mark the night before, and Chuck still tended to treat her with condescending disapproval because she was there, at all. If he weren’t such an important customer of the bank where she worked, she’d be tempted to tell him to stuff his antiquated, unsolicited opinions.
“I wish I’d known you disliked Chuck so deeply,” Damien said after watching Chuck leave with a curt nod for Celia. “I certainly would have delayed my meetings with him until after your visit.”
“You shouldn’t have to reschedule your business plans just because of me,” she assured him. “It doesn’t bother me that Chuck’s here. He would probably have heard about my visit, anyway. You know how gossip travels through a small-town grapevine.”
