A Match for Celia. GINA WILKINS
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his throat, tapped the dash and recalled her attention to her driving. “I think we’ll enjoy ourselves more if we arrive in one piece,” he suggested teasingly.
Celia laughed and turned her full concentration to her driving. “I’m sure you’re right. Hang on, friend. We’re off to have fun—even if it kills us.”
“What a pleasant thought,” Reed remarked wryly, but he seemed to relax when she did.
Maybe this would be fun, after all, Celia mused with a faint smile.
It was always nice to make a new friend.
Chapter Three
Reed proved to be a very pleasant companion for an afternoon. Polite—almost excessively so, at first—considerate, interesting when he finally relaxed enough to carry on a conversation.
He hadn’t been kidding about his interest in history, Celia thought at one point during the afternoon. It seemed to fascinate him. Just show him a historical marker or a battered old weapon or a scrap of hundred-year-old paper covered with faded, indecipherable writing, and those nice hazel eyes of his lighted up like beacons behind his sensible glasses.
She had rather expected to be bored. She was almost surprised to find out that she wasn’t. Using a map they picked up at a visitor information booth, they scouted out several local tourist attractions. Reed seemed almost comically worried that Celia wasn’t having a good time; she assured him repeatedly, and quite sincerely, that she was having a lovely day.
“Celia,” Reed said as she drove away from the final museum late that afternoon. “We’ve been exploring sites of interest to me all afternoon. Surely there’s something you’d like to do before we go back to the resort.”
Glancing at the many tourist attractions around them, Celia nodded. “Actually, there is.”
“What is it?” he asked encouragingly.
She spun the wheel of the Mercedes, swinging into a parking lot. “I want food,” she said with a grin. “And not that elegant cuisine served in the Alexander’s restaurant. I want something greasy and fattening and totally non-nutritious. A cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate milk shake.”
She parked in front of a building decorated with the universally recognized golden arches. “Perfect,” she pronounced.
She looked at Reed, who was looking back at her with a solemn expression. She frowned. “Fast food doesn’t appeal to you?” Don’t tell me he’s a strict vegetarian or a health-food nut. She groaned inwardly.
“Well, there is one change I’d like to suggest to your menu,” he said diffidently.
Probably wanted to add a salad to appease his conscience, Celia thought wryly. “What change would you like to make, Reed?” she asked patiently.
“Could we make those double cheeseburgers? Preferably with bacon? And I really prefer strawberry milk shakes to chocolate.”
Celia laughed. That made several times during the afternoon that he’d surprised her with a dry sense of humor. “Double cheeseburgers with bacon,” she agreed, reaching for her door handle. “And you may have a strawberry milk shake if you like—but I’m having chocolate!”
After they’d placed their orders at the counter, Celia insisted she pay for the meal. “After all,” she reminded him, “I kidnapped you this afternoon. So, it’s my treat.”
He nodded. “Thank you,” he said politely.
She liked it that he didn’t argue with her. A lot of guys felt threatened when a woman bought their dinner. Celia sensed that Reed was a man who was completely comfortable with his own worth, his own masculinity. He didn’t appear to be trying to prove anything, or to impress her. He was just being himself. And she liked him all the better for it.
They found a booth at the back of the room, as far as possible from the corner in which a small child’s birthday party was in noisy progress. Celia bit into her burger with a sigh of delight. “Mmm,” she murmured. “That’s exactly what I needed.”
She looked up to find that Reed was watching her. He hadn’t even unwrapped his own burger, yet. “Reed?” she prompted. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He blinked. “Oh. Yeah.” He picked up his burger and fussed with the paper covering, seeming to avoid her eyes for a moment.
Celia thought in some amusement that he looked embarrassed. Why? Was he worried about table etiquette or something silly like that? At a place where two kids were climbing the light fixtures and another was eating french fries that had fallen on the floor?
He really was a very sweet man. A bit staid, but sweet.
Remember the job, damn it, Reed told himself angrily as he bit off a corner of his dripping burger. Remember the job.
He didn’t know what strange quirk of fate had made Celia choose him to entertain her during the afternoon; he certainly hadn’t been trying to compete with her dashing boyfriend or any of the wealthy guests currently in residence at the resort. But now that she had, instead of taking advantage of the chance to subtly find out more about her dealings with Alexander, he found himself sitting in a fast-food restaurant booth fantasizing about having her wrap her lips around him with the same frankly sensual enthusiasm she’d displayed for her hamburger!
Not smart, Hollander. Damned stupid, in fact.
He was confident that he’d carried out his role believably enough during the afternoon. Celia had no reason to think he was anything other than what he’d told her he was—an ordinary tax accountant with a passion for history. She seemed to trust him.
But she still hadn’t given him any clue as to what she was doing at Damien Alexander’s resort while Alexander was taking care of business elsewhere.
The thought of Damien Alexander made Reed strengthen his resolve to keep his distance from Celia Carson. No matter how attractive he found her, no matter how invitingly she looked at him, no matter how seductively she walked or how intriguingly she smiled—he still had no intention of making a play for Alexander’s woman.
That, he reminded himself flatly, could only lead to disaster. Professionally—and personally, if he wasn’t careful.
When they left the fast-food restaurant, Celia mentioned that there was one other thing she’d like to do.
“What is it?” Reed asked, perfectly willing to indulge her.
Celia smiled and pointed to a gaudy, colorful place across the street from the burger joint. “That.”
Reed followed the direction of her pointing finger, then frowned. “Miniature golf?”
“Yes. Looks like a great course, doesn’t it? Look at that windmill. And the castle. I bet that’s a tough one.”
Reed was still frowning. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Haven’t you ever played miniature golf?”
He seemed to consider the question for a moment. “If I have,” he said at last, “I’ve forgotten.”
“Well, that settles it, then. We have to play. You can go home and tell your parents that you tried something new on your vacation. They’ll be delighted,” she assured him.
He didn’t look convinced. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”
“Don’t sweat it, Reed,” she told him, tucking a companionable hand beneath his arm. “Everyone’s a little nervous the first time. But I promise, I’ll be gentle with you.”
She gave him a bland, innocent smile when he looked at her with suddenly narrowed eyes. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to the double entendre; she hadn’t been able to resist finding out.
Reed cocked his head, stroked his jaw, then nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’m