Swept Away. Dawn Atkins
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“You cut yourself?” Candy yanked his wrist up into the air.
“What are you doing?” he asked as calmly as he could with her breasts right…there, sticking out at him. So alert.
“Elevating the injury above your heart, of course.” She was so short she had to tilt her head up to talk to him. Her big eyes invited him to dive in and drown.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She lowered his arm and leaned in to study the little nick, her perfumed hair tickling his chin, her fingers warm on his skin.
“Not even bleeding, see,” he said, backing away from the same heat he’d felt on Oaf Night. “Your computer’s dead, Candy.”
“How can I show you my work then?” She seemed truly upset. What was her game? “I know! Can I borrow your computer? Pick up what I’ve got on e-mail and get someone at the office to grab my desktop files?” She was moving closer to him again, digging in, making him dizzy. He wished to God it was loss of blood making it so hard to think, not the Candy Effect.
“Except then how can you work?” she said, frowning. “If I take your laptop?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, fighting for balance. “This is supposed to be my vacation. I should probably get out more, be more social…or whatever.” What the hell was he saying?
She studied him, her head tilted, figuring something out. He could practically hear the gears whirring. “I can help you, you know,” she said slowly, her honeyed voice melting his insides. “We can help each other.”
“We can?” How did her lips stay so red without lipstick? He remembered her muscular legs waving in the air that night. And she’d worn striped panties that disappeared completely between the cheeks of her—
“You loan me your computer and let me show you my ideas and I’ll teach you how to schmooze. How’s that?”
“I loan you my…? You show me…? I don’t see how…really…that’s possible.” He had no business spending time with a woman who could say the word schmooze and make him forget his own name.
“Come on. It’ll be fun, Matt.”
Matt. Yeah, that was his name. Now he remembered. He shook his head, attempting to clear it.
Woof!
Through the screen door, Matt saw the golden retriever they’d wrestled for Candy’s cell phone.
“Radar votes yes,” Candy said.
“Then how can I say no?” He was taking his cues from a dog now? Looking into Candy’s violet eyes, he had the feeling this wasn’t the last crazy thing he would do this week.
Not even close.
2
THIS COULD WORK, Candy thought, except for the fact that it meant spending more time with Matt than she’d intended. She’d have to keep her libido under control—say padlocked in a deep freeze at the bottom of the ocean?
Her sexual response to him got stronger with each moment they spent together. It was like standing in a candy store when you were on a diet—just plain torture.
She’d never been that big on sexual denial, either, and it would be tough enough to test her work-hard-play-hard philosophy as it was.
She was only human.
On the other hand, this plan was a chance to prove her worth to SyncUp and to correct Matt’s bad impression of her at the same time. He clearly had one, judging from his attitude about her Halloween party stunts. No doubt he’d heard about Jared, too.
After the Thong Incident, she’d concluded she had a thing for analytical types and gone out with a SyncUp engineer. Jared was cute and smart and funny, but there’d been no sparks. She’d kissed him good-night to be nice and the grateful bozo turned it into The Story of O around the company.
Rumor had it they’d done it on the roof. Yes, they’d been up there, but only to look at the altimeter Jared had built as part of a science education package he was coding.
With a reputation at SyncUp as a sex fiend, Candy had to nix any hints of that around Matt.
Radar whined for her to come play. He was as annoying as her sex drive around Matt. She could not be tempted by either one. Business first, pleasure second. And only if there was time.
She moved to Matt’s computer, ready to log in and gather what she could by e-mail. She would contact Freeda, the department’s secretary, about retrieving her desktop files.
Matt joined her at the table, standing over her. “So, uh, how do you see the other part working?”
She looked up from the keyboard. “What other part?”
“The social stuff? What do you propose?”
“You want to start there?” She could see he was concerned. “All right. Let’s make a plan.”
“A plan?”
“To turn you into Mr. Networking. Backslap Boy. Fun Guy. Whatever you want to call the new, more social you.” She grabbed her notepad and headed for the sofa, pausing to pick up the magenta festival flyer. “Let’s look at what’s here we can work with, huh?” She motioned him into the living room and dropped onto the blue canvas sofa.
He sat close enough to swamp her with lime and spice.
“So what interests you?” she asked, making a bullet point on the paper.
When he didn’t answer right away, she looked at him and found him staring at her mouth. “Uh…what? What interests me?” He cleared his throat, then shifted on the sofa.
“Yes. What do you do for fun?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I read. E-mail loops. Blogs. Internet stuff. Some programming I’m working on for fun. I shoot some hoops.”
He’d thrown in the basketball to sound like a regular guy, she’d bet, instead of a work-obsessed nerd. He wasn’t a nerd. He was too handsome, too aware of other people. He was just serious, quiet and private. Locked in his own head. She found that strangely soothing. Maybe as a contrast with her own restless energy. It might be nice to share solitude with someone. Until she got bored. It would be like meditation. She’d tried it, but could only bear a few seconds of letting her thoughts float away before she had to go after them with a butterfly net and a notepad.
“In short, you work,” she said. “What you read are trade journals and e-zines, right? Your Internet loops and blogs are with marketing and software groups. Am I right?”
He shrugged. “Focus got me where I am, Candy. That’s what Scott’s forgetting with this whole changes-must-be-made bit. That’s my strength and I won’t undermine that.”
“We’ll just tweak your style a bit.” She made a twisting gesture. “You’ll barely feel a pinch.”
When he grinned, she realized it was a triumph to earn a smile from such a serious guy. This close, she noticed a sexy chip in one of his incisors—a hint there was a bad boy in there somewhere. She’d love to talk him out to play.
Another time. On another planet. In an alternate universe.
“I know what I’m doing,” she said, hoping she did. “Before you were a driven software engineer and marketing strategist, where did you get your kicks?”
He stared up at the ceiling. “Let’s see. In high school I was in a band—but what high school kid wasn’t?”
“What instrument?”
“Bass guitar.”
“How