A Match for Celia. GINA WILKINS
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rooms. He smiled when he saw her. “Miss Carson,” he greeted her. “Good morning. Is there anything you need?”
“No, thank you, Evan. I was just on my way out to find something to do. I’m rather tired of sitting in my room.” And wasn’t that an understatement?
Damien’s personal secretary’s dark face creased with a worried frown. “Aren’t you having a nice time, Miss Carson? Mr. Alexander told everyone to make sure you enjoyed yourself in his absence. Is there anything I can do to make your stay with us more pleasant?”
Celia shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just wing it for a few hours. I’m sure I’ll have a lovely day.”
“If you need anything—anything at all—just ask one of the resort staff,” Evan reminded her. “The social director has a full list of activities arranged for today. The schedule is posted in the main lobby. If you don’t find anything on the list that you’d like to do, perhaps we can arrange something special for you.”
Celia nodded and thanked him again, biting the inside of her lip against a rueful smile. Damien must have left stern orders concerning her welfare while he was gone. His entire staff had all but turned handsprings to please her. Unfortunately, their attention made her rather uncomfortable.
She simply wasn’t used to this.
She slid a pair of sunglasses onto her nose as she stepped out of the relatively small side building that housed her suite, Damien’s rooms and the resort offices. She spotted a few white-jacketed resort employees among the milling guests, but made no move to attract attention. She certainly didn’t want anyone else hovering over her to make sure she was having fun!
She turned and slipped quietly down the path that led to the beach.
Chapter Two
A wide strip of sand stretched from the resort complex to the Gulf beach. The beach was markedly uncrowded in contrast to the plethora of buildings on either side behind her. Farther north, the island was untamed and undeveloped, an eighty-four-mile stretch of federally maintained sand dunes and sea oats, popular with bird-watchers and beachcombers. Yet this part of the not-quite-three-mile-wide island at the southernmost tip of Texas was completely covered with resorts, condominiums, hotels and restaurants.
Damien’s resort—the Alexander—was one of the largest on the island, a huge complex built in a horseshoe shape around fountains, pools, tennis courts, volleyball nets, a lushly landscaped common. A health club, sauna, game room, restaurant, snack bar, and a lounge were part of the amenities provided for the guests; not to mention a variety of activities including horseback riding, parasailing, sailboarding, golf, fishing… Name it, and Damien made sure it was available.
So why was Celia so darned bored?
Standing at the edge of the sandy beach, she looked wistfully at the few couples lying cozily beneath colorful umbrellas, or strolling along the water’s edge, looking for seashells. One romantic-looking duo in the distance were arm in arm as they wandered slowly out of sight.
Celia sighed and kept walking.
Then she stopped again when a familiar figure caught her eye.
She smiled.
The “attractive in an average sort of way” accountant she’d met that morning was standing at the edge of the beach, brushing sand from the hem of his neatly creased gray slacks. His once shiny accountant’s shoes were coated with sand and there was a piece of broken shell stuck in the one-inch cuff of his right pant leg. His only concession to the casual atmosphere had been to turn up the sleeves of his dark gray shirt into neat, precisely matched cuffs.
His crisp, short hair was a bit wind-tossed, so that it ruffled over the tops of his horn-rimmed glasses. She watched as he ran a hand through the recalcitrant lock and efficiently restored it to its rightful place.
“Mr. Hollander,” she said, hoping her amusement at his out-of-place attire wasn’t evident in her voice. “We meet again.”
She appeared to have caught him by surprise. He blinked at her through his glasses, then smiled. “Miss Carson?”
“Celia,” she corrected him, because it seemed ridiculous to be so formal on a beach.
“And I’m Reed,” he reminded her. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Are you having a good time?” she asked with a perfectly straight face.
He exhaled deeply and glanced around him. “I’m trying to. My parents would be terribly disappointed if I didn’t.”
She certainly knew how hard it was to have fun just to keep from disappointing someone. “I hear the social director has a full schedule of activities lined up for this afternoon,” she suggested helpfully.
Reed made a face. “Yes. Parasailing and volleyball. Or for the more sedate guests—a bridge tournament.”
“None of those appeal to you, I take it?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid not. I’ll probably just sit by the pool this afternoon. I brought an intriguing-looking book with me—a newly published account of the invasion of Normandy. This seems like a good time to start it.”
Celia couldn’t think of anything less appealing than sitting by the pool reading a World War II history book. Honestly, this guy was worse than she was when it came to vacations! She forced a smile. “Sounds…relaxing,” she said.
“Yes, though I’m sure you have much more exciting plans.”
Oh, yeah, she had great plans. Walking down the beach envying everyone who wasn’t alone. Counting her yawns. Maybe she’d strike up a fascinating conversation with a hermit crab.
“There’s so much to do here, it’s hard to decide where to start,” she said, wondering if her bright smile looked as fake and plastic as it felt.
Reed looked wistful. “I suppose it must seem that way to most people,” he murmured.
Celia glumly agreed. So much to do…yet, she and this poor schmuck were feeling as out of place as two nuns at an orgy.
Funny, she hadn’t realized how truly unadventurous her life had become in the past couple of years. So much so, she seemed to have almost forgotten how to play altogether.
Her older sister would understand. After being widowed at a young age, left with two small children to raise and her late husband’s business to run, Rachel had had little time for fun and relaxation. But recently she’d met Seth Fletcher, a laid-back lawyer a few years her junior, and Seth had brought fun back into Rachel’s life. Now they were making wedding plans.
Celia heartily approved. She had already grown very fond of her almost brother-in-law. She’d seen the new happiness glowing in her sister’s dark eyes…and she couldn’t quite ignore a touch of envy. Rachel had found love twice, while Celia was still waiting for romance to find her.
Their brother, Cody, the middle Carson sibling, didn’t need anyone to teach him about having fun. He would have hooted in derision at Celia’s inability to enjoy herself in this hedonistic paradise. Though Cody had settled down some since his party-hearty college days, which had ended when he’d quit during his sophomore year, he was still the most spontaneous and energetic member of the family. He was always the joker, always the life of the party, though he was no longer the heavy drinker he’d been before a near-tragic car accident had turned him into a teetotaler. Cody now owned half interest in a moderately profitable country-western restaurant and dance club in which nothing stronger than beer was served to the loyal patrons, but the responsibilities of his job hadn’t dimmed his sense of fun.
Celia couldn’t help wondering what had happened to her own.
She’d almost forgotten that Reed Hollander was still standing nearby until he suddenly cleared his throat and brought her out of her somber introspection. “Be careful of that sun,”