Damien shrugged. “There was some indication that she took the first swing. With a chair. I don’t think either of them could be considered blameless in the incident.”
Celia shook her head in disgust. “Only goes to show that fame and fortune can’t buy class,” she murmured.
Damien chuckled. “Sweetheart, people have been telling me that for years.”
Unamused, she immediately became defensive on his behalf. “But, Damien, you would never act that way. I mean, you’re obscenely rich, but you’ve never abused your power. Not in front of me, anyway,” she added conscientiously, knowing there were sides of Damien she’d probably never seen.
Damien opened his mouth, closed it, then burst out laughing. “Is it any wonder that I enjoy being with you? No one else talks to me the way you do.”
“Well, Damien, surely you know you’re obscenely rich,” Celia said, grinning at him now. She always enjoyed teasing him; mostly because he responded so good-naturedly. “It’s not as if I’m telling you anything new.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Say the word, my darling, and all I have will be yours. Except, of course, my Rolls. That I don’t share with anyone.”
Celia shook her head, matching his tone. “All or nothing, Alexander. If I can’t have the Rolls, then the deal’s off.”
He sighed heavily. “All right, you win. You can have the Rolls—but only if I get you in return.”
Though she was still fairly sure he was teasing, Celia felt her amusement fade. She took a deep breath. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“My Rolls?” he asked, still smiling, though his eyes had turned serious.
She shook her head. “Us.”
He sighed and released her. “I see.”
Celia placed a hand on his arm and looked up at him anxiously. She didn’t want to hurt him; she wasn’t even sure she could. Still, she chose her words carefully. “I like you very much, Damien. I want you to know that I consider you one of the nicest men I know.”
He looked startled. “Lord, Celia, you make me sound like your favorite uncle!”
She winced. She’d forgotten to take into account that male ego thing. “I didn’t quite mean it that way. I was trying to say that I consider you one of my very best friends.”
He grimaced. “Uh-oh. I know where this is leading.”
“Now, Damien, don’t make this difficult for me,” she chided him. “It’s hard enough as it is.”
“I think I’ve already gotten your point. You’re trying to tell me that you only want to be friends with me, right?”
“Right.” She patted his arm. “I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll agree that it’s the best decision for both of us. Let’s face it, Damien, I’m just not your usual type. Your life is glamorous and exciting and sophisticated—and I’m none of those things. I couldn’t even go parasailing with you.”
“I could have taught you to be more adventurous,” he assured her. “You just needed more time.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. I’ve had enough time to know that as fond as I am of you, friendship is all there could ever be between us.”
She thought of Reed and pictured herself surrounded by a brood of little accountants who looked just like him—tiny horn-rimmed glasses and all. Average. Ordinary. And she could honestly say she wanted nothing more out of life now than to share it with him.
“It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one you met while I was away. The one you had breakfast with this morning.” Damien spoke with uncanny insight, and the line of his jaw seemed harder than usual.
Celia was startled. “How did you know who I had breakfast with this morning?”
“Never mind that. Are you dumping me for him?”
She frowned at his uncharacteristically belligerent tone. “I’m hardly dumping you, Damien. There’s never been anything more than friendship between us. One doesn’t dump a friend. As for Reed—well, that remains to be seen.”
“And it’s none of my business,” he interpreted.
“Right,” she said, though she spoke gently.