by Dawn Atkins
“Candy?”
She realized she was staring. “You’re looking good,” she said, pretending to evaluate him. “Your tan’s nicely even.” She ran her fingers along the faint sleeve line, raising goose bumps on his skin.
“Feels good,” he rasped.
She lifted her finger, trying to ignore the simmering heat in his eyes, fighting her own reaction. “Do you feel more social?” she stammered. “More relaxed?”
“Do I seem that way to you?”
“Definitely.”
“I don’t feel that relaxed. And the longer we stand here, the worse it gets.” His gaze settled on her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, and, worse, she wanted him to. He dragged his eyes up to meet hers.
“Say something quick,” he said, clearly wanting her to distract him.
“Time to limbo?” she said weakly.
He shook his head, as if that wasn’t a good enough distraction.
She stepped back. “The point is, you look like Fun Guy. Scott will so approve of Fun Guy.”
“Yeah?” He stepped closer.
“And Jane!” she blurted, realizing that was the way to go. “Jane will love Fun Guy.”
“Jane?” He looked puzzled for a second. “She’d be surprised, for sure.”
“So ask her out when you get back.”
“There’s no point to that.”
“She broke up with you because you weren’t any fun, but now you are. She’ll give you another chance, I’m sure.”
“What if I don’t want that?”
“Sure you do. Talk to her. You gave up too soon.”
He didn’t say anything, just held her gaze. He had too much pride, probably, to admit he wanted Jane back.
Whatever. The idea that Matt was taken felt like a life raft to her. She never messed with taken guys.
Of course it was ridiculous that she needed more of a reason to stay clear than that Matt was her boss and sleeping with him might kill her promotion, but a little insurance never hurt, right?
IT WAS A LIE, MATT knew—not telling Candy he no longer wanted to be with Jane. But it could solve his problem.
He’d no sooner apologized to Candy for the sex, babbling on about his higher duty as a manager, than he’d been ready to haul her back to his place for more, like some randy caveman.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never read the SyncUp policy on fraternization, but he knew for certain that a manager sleeping with someone he supervised was a bad idea.
Moreover, Matt needed everyone’s respect while he was organizing his department and he certainly didn’t want to give Scott a reason to doubt his choice of Matt for VP.
Whatever it took to keep clear of her: If the idea of Jane made Candy step back, then he had a shred of hope he could control himself. No decent guy went after a new woman when he wanted to reconcile with his ex, right?
Around Candy, he felt pretty damn indecent. Now he was walking her to her beach house for a bikini with more give. He hoped to hell that didn’t mean more bare skin.
Too late, he realized his sister was likely to be inside. Ellie would definitely pick up the energy between them.
In self-defense, he put his shirt back on, just as Candy opened the door to music and the roar of a blender. Ellie was in the kitchen making drinks, while another woman hunched over a laptop, a cell phone at her ear. She waved at them, talking into the phone.
“Hey, guys,” Ellie called from the kitchen, then bent down to peer at them from beneath the cabinets. “Omigod!” She hurried out to stare at him, hands to her cheeks in pretend shock. “What happened to you?”
Ellie herself had gone through some kind of transformation. She’d changed her hair and makeup so that she looked softer, more like the Ellie she’d been before she got into her Queen of the Damned phase.
“What have you done with my brother, Candy?” she demanded.
“Meet Fun Guy,” Candy said with a sweep of her arm.
Ellie walked all around him. “I can’t believe how different you look! No glasses. New hair. New clothes.”
“Thanks,” Matt said. “I like your new look, too.”
She grabbed her hair self-consciously. “It was for the audition. It feels…funny.”
“It looks great,” Candy added.
“How did you get Matt to do this? I’ve been nagging him to lose the glasses for years. What did you say? What did you do? Never mind. Too personal. I don’t want to know.”
“Oh, stop,” Matt said. “She updated my look so Scott will see me as more, I don’t know, social? Hip?” He shrugged.
“Whatever,” Ellie said. “I’ve never seen you in a shirt this loud.” She gave Candy a salaam. “I bow before you, O Queen of Makeovers.”
“It’s nothing,” Candy said.
“Oh, yes it is. Doesn’t he look great, Sara?” Ellie asked. “I’m going to get us all something to toast with.” She headed for the kitchen.
“You look very nice, Matt.” The woman had put down her phone and joined them. She smiled, telling him she knew how over-the-top Ellie could be. “I’m Sara.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Matt said, shaking Sara’s hand. “I believe I’ve seen you at the coffee shop?”
She nodded.
“With a phone glued to her ear,” Candy said. “Sara’s always working.”
“I’m with Anderson Title. On the tenth floor.”
“Except on this trip she’s supposed to be relaxing.”
“Now stop right there,” Sara said. “Not only did I sign up for the surfing competition, I asked Drew for lessons.”
“You didn’t! You did? Oh, that’s great.” Candy lunged forward to hug her friend, who did look a bit buttoned-down to be a surfer.
“And you and Drew…?” Candy asked breathlessly.
“Let’s just say we’ll be doing the photo scavenger hunt together.” Sara went pink and Matt wanted to escape. He hadn’t been trapped in a girl-talk session since Ellie was in high school.
“This is great,” Candy said. “Isn’t this great, Ellie?”
“That’s why we’re celebrating.”
Ellie handed a margarita to Sara, then extended one to Candy, who shook her head. “We need our wits about us to do well in the limbo contest.”
Plus, he needed every inhibition he could muster to override his attraction to Candy. He’d already seen the effect alcohol had on him.
“We’re also celebrating because Ellie got the part!” Sara said. “She’s an extra on Sin on the Beach.”
“That’s fabulous!” Candy hugged Ellie.
“Plus,” Sara said, leaning in, “she connected with Bill Romero again and they’re getting together tonight. For the scavenger hunt…and later.”
Matt’s ears perked. “Bill Romero? Is that the guy who used to live next door? The one you spied on all the time?”
Ellie slugged his arm. “I was only twelve and I was smitten. Now I can actually get words out.” She abruptly looked twelve again, with a light in her eyes he’d never seen when she spoke about a guy. He felt a surge of happiness and hope. Maybe Ellie would let this guy in, allow someone to take care of her for a change. With all his heart, he hoped for her happiness.
“So, we’ve all got partners for the festival contests,” Candy said. “Now we’ve got a serious chance to win.”
So they were partners, huh? He wondered if Candy would tell her friends what had really happened between them. Before he’d gotten to know her, he’d have been positive she’d dish every detail, but now he’d seen her quiet, thoughtful side.
The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. Which wasn’t particularly helpful.
“Let me show y’all where we stand on the competition,” Sara said, returning to her laptop. “With Ellie on the TV show and with what Candy and Matt earned already, we’ve got a good start. Ellie came up with a name for us. Team Java Mamas. Isn’t it perfect? Considering Dark Gothic Roast and all.”
“I love it,” C
andy said. They all looked over Sara’s shoulder at the screen, where she clicked into a spreadsheet listing events, potential points and points earned.
“You’re serious about this,” Matt said, trying not to bury his nose in Candy’s hair.
“Oh, Sara’s serious about everything,” Ellie said.
“You all will enjoy this when we win, so no bitching,” Sara said. “Assuming we do well enough to make the finals, we’ll need a killer essay.”
“And Candy’s our ace in the hole on that,” Ellie said. “Isn’t Candy amazing, Matt?” Ellie dug in with her gaze. “Do you know how lucky you are to have her?” She paused. “At SyncUp, I mean.”
“I do. Yes.” He glanced at her.
“I’m just part of the team,” Candy said, flushing. Her vulnerability touched him. For someone so socially confident, she was surprisingly insecure about her work. He wanted to help her with that if he could, without getting too personal.
“What about the freak-dancing contest?” Ellie asked, pointing at the screen. “Matt, what do you think?”
“No way.” He stepped back, hands up in protest.
“Come on. What did Candy call you? Fun Guy? Fun Guy would love it. I mean, you’re doing the limbo? I wouldn’t have believed anyone could talk you into that.” She gave Candy a knowing look.
“I have to draw the line somewhere,” he said, but Ellie had a point. Only Candy could have convinced him to sing karaoke, get contacts, do backbends in swim trunks—and whatever other goofy thing she had yet to talk him into.
Candy went off to change, leaving him with Ellie and Sara, who lapsed into a discussion of Ellie’s new look, talking about bronzers and foundations and primer coats until he felt like they were debating building construction instead of cosmetics.
“What do you think, Matt? Should I keep up this illusion, this pretense, this false me?” Ellie asked him.
“You’re asking a guy who just had a makeover,” he said, then got serious. “You have to be comfortable with yourself, El. You have to like how you—”
Candy appeared, stopping him cold. She wore a white bikini held together by loose strings here and there.
“Yeah, Matt?” Ellie prompted. “I have to like how I…what?”
“How you look,” he finished faintly, unable to take his eyes off Candy, who looked like an edible angel. A couple of tugs with his teeth and she’d be bare.
“Wow,” he said, his voice a rasp over a suddenly dry throat. “That looks, um, like it has more give.” He frowned, as if that were a serious consideration.
“More give?” Ellie asked.
“For better bending,” Candy said.
Bending? God. “We’d better get moving,” he said, hustling her toward the door before they endured more harassment.
“Have fun, you two,” Ellie said. “How low can you go?”
He didn’t want to think about it.
9
THE FESTIVAL AREA had gotten insanely crowded, Matt noted, with the fleeting hope that the limbo contest had reached capacity. Candy was indomitable, however, and managed to work her way to the sign-up just before they closed it off.
Hooray.
The limbo uprights were tiki torches painted to resemble bamboo, with bar rests that could be set as low as six inches from the ground. Who could possibly bend that low? Maybe Candy who was as limber as she was graceful.
Matt sighed and lined up with Candy and the other contestants. He kept catching guys checking her out. It was annoying, but he understood. Candy drew the eye. She had a great shape, of course, which the white bikini emphasized, and her dark hair gleamed in the torchlight, but there was more to it. She gave off electricity; she stood out.
He kept picturing her naked. Other guys were doing the same thing, but only he knew exactly what she looked like.
Stop.
Luckily, “Limbo Rock” blared from nearby speakers, signaling the start of the contest. The bar was high enough that most people, including him, moved easily under it. Candy went before him, lightning quick. He managed the next round, but not without effort. Several guys dropped to the sand.
The third round, he watched Candy pass under the bar, following the swell of her thigh muscles to the place where her legs met, the spot he’d touched, the space he’d entered.
Ouch. He was about to stack wood in public.
“How low can you go?” the announcer said.
That low, evidently. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. She confused and overwhelmed him. He preferred his feelings to be simple and rational.
The way they’d been with Jane. She didn’t slip constantly into his awareness, invade every thought, torture every nerve. With Jane, he knew what to expect. Candy would be impossible to predict. Or ignore.
“Matt? Hello?” Candy was calling him. “Your turn?”
“Oh, right. Yeah.” He bent back, inched under the bar, caught sight of Candy’s face and lost all strength in his legs. He hit the sand, kicking up dust.
“You had it. What happened to you?” she said, giving him a hand up.
You. You happened to me. “I don’t know,” he said.
He felt a little better about blowing it when most of the men and half the women were eliminated that round. Before long, Candy was among the dozen contenders left.
Then it got hard. The contestants had to go under the bar backward. It looked like agony. Player after player tumbled to the sand.
When it was Candy’s turn, she inched toward the bar, her features pinched in concentration, hair swinging, her muscles tight, thighs quivering from the strain. She made that round and the next, too, her determination as palpable as the sweat that gleamed on her skin. As with the karaoke contest, the crowd loved her.
In the end she managed third place, beaten by two contortionists who defied gravity.
“You were amazing,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “Let’s go.”
“Not so fast. There’s a couples-only contest. With belly shots.”
“Belly shots?” he said, his heart sinking.
She pointed at the demonstration, where a woman bent back while her partner placed a shot of tequila on her belly. She moved under the bar, he met her on the other side, picked up the shot glass with his teeth and drank it, no hands.
“We’re winning it,” Candy said, leveling her gaze at him. “So no backing out.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said, happy they were the last couple in the line for this particular torture. One after another the pairs tried and failed—tipping over the shot glass, bumping the bar or falling flat.
Then it was their turn.
“We’re going to make it, Matt. Don’t worry,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not,” he said, setting the shot glass on her trembling stomach before hurrying around to wait for her to inch her way under the bar toward him.
Her muscles clenched and released as she moved, glistening in the tiki light. The glass jiggled and a few drops of tequila trickled across her stomach. The audience moaned.
Her toes gripped the sand, her body vibrated from the strain, then she steadied herself.
Somehow, inch by inch, she made it beyond the bar. Now he did his part. He lowered his mouth to the shaking shot glass, picking up the scent of her skin, her light sweat and the tang of tequila. He lifted the edge with his teeth, tipped back the ounce of booze and gulped it down.
A cheer went up. Candy bounced up and he caught her against him. “We won! We won!” she shrieked, dancing and jumping like the tiki flames. The announcer handed Candy the trophy, and she held it up, her eyes shining with joy.
Matt wanted to help her celebrate, so he crouched before her and tapped his shoulders. “Climb up.”
She put her legs around his neck, her thighs tight against his ears. He held her securely and stood tall.
She shrieked in pleasure. The crowd bellowed its approval. Alcohol-induced hilarity, no doubt. They’d hardly won the Olympics, but Candy was a wonder and even the drunken fe
stival revelers had picked up on it.
“This is so great,” she said, talking down to him, the trophy in one hand, her other hand under his jaw, holding on.
“Yeah,” he said, looking up at her.
“Hello!”
He looked down to see Jaycee calling to him.
“Congratulations, you two,” she said, glancing up at Candy, then directly at him.
“Thanks,” Candy called down.
“So, anyway, I’m just going to come right out and ask. I know you two work together, but are you together-together?” She twined two fingers.
They both answered at once.
“Not at all,” Candy said.
“Yes, we are,” he said.
Hands on hips, Jaycee looked from one to the other, waiting for a clarification.
“For this week, we’re together,” he said.
“Oh. Well.” She looked disappointed, then shrugged. “Whatever. I guess I’ll see you around.” She walked away, paused to look back, as if to say something else, then shook her head and moved on.
He understood her confusion. Why had he lied? Because he didn’t want Jaycee and it was a painless way to let her down? That made sense, right?
Except there was more to it, he knew. Way more.
Candy thumped his chest with her heels. “Put me down,” she said. She wanted an explanation and he hoped to God she’d buy the one he gave her.
CANDY HOPED TO HELL Matt could fix this. He had to save her from herself. When he’d told Jaycee they were together, she’d felt pure joy.
Joy! The absolute wrong reaction. She had to force it down, like sitting on the lid of a jam-packed suitcase. She had no business wanting Matt to want her.
Now, her heart banged her ribs as hard as her heels thudded Matt’s chest.
Matt crouched down and helped her off his shoulders. She hated to leave, actually. She’d loved being up there with Matt’s hands warm and tight on her thighs, holding her safe.
“Why did you tell her that?” she asked him, her heart thudding in her ears.
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“You could beta test Fun Guy with her. Wasn’t she your type?” she asked. How could she not be? Jaycee was every guy’s type.