Читать книгу Swept Away - Dawn Atkins - Страница 9

THE VOLLEYBALL tournament sign-up was at a table on the beachside terrace of a bar called WHIM SIM, short for What Happens in Malibu, Stays in Malibu.

“You lookin’ to get on a team?” asked a hot guy, motioning them over. “Cuz we need a couple players.”

“Absolutely,” she said.

“I’m Carter.” He grinned, extended his hand to Candy and gave her an appreciative once-over. He was very tanned and his hair was a sun-bleached blond that would cost a fortune in a salon, but Candy bet he’d earned it with real ray time.

“I’m Candy and this is Matt.”

“Cool.” Carter shook Matt’s hand.

“These guys are in?” a gorgeous blonde in a red bikini, as tanned as Carter, asked. When he nodded, she beamed. “Perfect. We need two players. I’m Jaycee.” She was talking to Matt and she flipped her long hair over one shoulder in an obviously practiced move.

Candy figured this was a good social moment to start Matt’s lessons, so she asked Jaycee and Carter how they knew each other. Jaycee, it turned out, managed a health club in Santa Monica where Carter was a trainer. Candy explained that she and Matt worked together at SyncUp.

“You market software, huh?” Jaycee asked Matt, clearly flirting with him. “When I see ‘auto run,’ that’s what I want to do. What kind of software do you sell?”

“We’re most known for our integrated suite of applications for word processing, numerical analysis and data management.”

“Sounds interesting.” Jaycee’s eyes glazed over.

“What Matt means is we help businesses manage their books, handle payroll, do project planning and scheduling. Like that.”

“I get it. We have a payroll program, for sure. Don’t know if it’s yours, but the time cards take forever. No offense.”

“Really?” Candy asked, her marketer’s ears perking. “What would make it easier for you?”

“Fewer screens. God. It’s tab, type, tab, type, tab until you want to scream.”

“So, if the software could plug in routine entries for you, that would help?”

“Oh, yeah. That would be great.”

“That’s our job. To solve customer problems like that. Actually, Matt could get lots more technical if he wanted to. He started out as a computer engineer.”

“Really?” Jaycee blinked up at him. “So you wear two hats? One day you’re all thinky and into numbers and the next you’re, like, creative and fresh?” Blink. Blink. She was pretending to be dumber than she clearly was.

“I don’t write code these days. I manage our marketing division.” There was a beat, then Matt seemed to grasp the need to keep talking. “However, my engineering background does help me interpret for both the programmers and the marketing staff.”

“So you’re, like, the translator. Sprechen Sie computer?”

“In a sense, yes.” He smiled.

“That’s very cool,” Jaycee said. “So what are you cooking up at the moment?”

“We have a variety of projects in R & D and beta.” He glanced at Candy, who urged him on with her eyes. “Uh, one you might be interested in is a personality test to help employers ensure applicants are suited to the job.”

“Another test to fail.” Carter groaned in pretend misery. Candy pegged him as one of those lighthearted, physical guys who were tireless in bed and eager to please their partners. Under other circumstances, he’d be the perfect companion for a week at Malibu. Too bad she was otherwise occupied.

“Yeah, but those test questions are so obvious,” Jaycee said. “‘Would you rather rob a liquor store or play poker with your mother?’”

“Actually,” Matt said, “the test has been certified to have construct and concurrent validity, as well as—”

Candy cleared her throat.

Matt glanced at her, then paused. “Uh, basically the test measures what it claims to measure.” He’d caught on, she was pleased to see. Can the jargon.

“Right,” Candy said. “Plus, employers consider other factors when they hire.”

“Like charm and good looks?” Carter said, winking at Candy.

“As long as you’re qualified for the job,” she teased back.

“Oh, I’m qualified.” He held her gaze for a telling moment. “You two here for the festival?” He was assessing their romantic status, she could tell.

“Partly,” she said. “We’re doing that photo scavenger hunt, for one thing, since Matt’s also a photographer.” She figured that could lead to more conversation.

“That’s so cool,” Jaycee said. “Do you do head shots? Because I need some for my modeling composite.”

“Not really. I just play around.”

“You do? You play around? I like that.”

“It’s only a hobby.” Matt seemed oblivious to Jaycee’s flirtation.

“But he has a great eye,” Candy said.

“Even better.”

Lord, could the girl be more obvious? Candy felt a pang of irritation, but pushed on. “Why don’t you take a snapshot of our team, Matt?”

“With the phone? Ah. Sure. Good idea.” He cut her a glance that told her he knew where she was heading—get contact info.

Jaycee called over the other two players, then planted herself in the center of the picture. She was so damned bouncy. Like an overage high school cheerleader. Candy wasn’t sure why that annoyed her, except that she seemed to be deliberately jiggling her breasts under Matt’s nose.

Matt snapped the shot, then keyed e-mail addresses into his phone, finishing just as their team was called to play.

“You’re a good student,” she murmured to him as they headed onto the court.

“Because I have a great teacher.” He held her gaze for an extra beat, giving her that melting feeling again. Between the sun and Matt, she’d be a puddle in the sand before long.

Checking out their opposing team, Candy felt intimidated. They looked so athletic. She was reasonably coordinated, but still…She glanced at Matt who smiled, calm and reassuring.

As the game went on, Matt kept his eye on her, backing her play when the sun blinded her or she was out of position when a ball came over. He even saved her shot when Radar lunged onto the court and nearly knocked her down. Matt was a strong and graceful player…who distracted the hell out of her, standing there—tall, bare-chested and gorgeous. He had to do a million pushups when he wasn’t at his keyboard. Not to mention sit-ups.

She was so busy watching the way he crouched—arms extended, hands fisted together, muscles rippling—that it took her a heartbeat to notice he’d set the ball to her.

At the last second, she managed an inelegant one-armed swing and was amazed when the ball made it over the net. It surprised the other team, too, and they missed it.

Candy had earned a point by ogling Matt.

Carter slapped her on the back. “Excellent,” he said, lingering near her. She noticed Matt watching the moment, pensive, slightly frowning.

The two sides traded the lead over and over, until it was game point and Candy’s serve. Yikes. She moved into position, dizzy and freaked, her nerves tight as guitar strings. All eyes were on her. This one counted. She shot a look at Matt.

“It’s just another serve,” he murmured. “Show them what you’re made of.”

She would. She’d show the players. And she’d show Matt. Her ideas, that is, as soon as she got the chance. She’d show her family, too. She’d show everyone. Pumped with adrenaline and determination, she swung the ball into the air, hauled off and slugged it—straight over everyone’s heads and yards out of bounds down the beach.

“Outside!” the ref called.

No kidding. Her second try went sideways and out, losing the serve for her team. Radar fetched the ball, dropping it at her feet. She tossed it over the net to the other team.

“No big thing,” Matt said to her, waiting until she looked at him. “Really, Candy. It’s nothing.”

She felt terrible, though, and determined to make up for her failure. When her team got the serve again, the return ball came over at a tough angle. No way would she let this go without a fight, so she dived for the sand, scraping palms and knees, but managing to set the ball high.

From the ground, she watched Matt spike the ball hard.

The other team didn’t have a chance.

They’d won. Her team cheered, the ref whistled for the teams to change sides, and Matt held out his hand to help her to her feet.

She smiled and reached up, enjoying the pressure of his broad palm, his firm grip, the power in his arms. Bouncing to her feet, she rocked into him.

His arms went instinctively around her, reminding her of the moment when he’d tried to steady her before she fell anyway.

“Great dive,” he said softly.

“Great spike. We make a good team.”

They stood that way, eyes locked, breathing unevenly, braced in each other’s arms. The seconds stretched and sagged, as sweet and slow as pulled taffy. She could feel Matt’s heart beat against her hands. There was something they had to do, but she couldn’t…quite…remember…what…it was.

“Hello?” Jaycee called from the other side of the net. “We’re over here. New game?”

“Oh. Right.” Matt jolted forward.

“You okay? Need some water?” Jaycee asked him when he reached her, extending her water bottle.

“I’m fine.”

Jaycee bounced back to her position and Candy leaned toward Matt. “She wants to have your baby.”

“What are you talking about?” He looked at Jaycee. “You’re exaggerating.”

“You should go for it.”

“No. I’m not…No.” He colored, embarrassed or flattered or both. A jealous prickle moved along Candy’s nerves. Which was crazy. If her help juiced Matt’s love life, then so much the better, right?

The game started and, again, the teams traded the lead, passing game point over and over again. Matt and Candy played together well and she managed a few good shots. In the end, they were once again victorious, which meant they took the match 2-0.

Carter, as team captain, handed out the winner’s booty—a wad of drink tickets and a voucher for points in a competition that was part of the festival, along with a WHIM SIM T-shirt. “We’re going inside to spend these,” he said to Candy, holding up his drink coupons. “You coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said.

“See you inside then.” Carter turned to go.

“You like that guy?” Matt asked nodding at him.

“What’s not to like?”

“He’s kind of muscle-bound, don’t you think? Definitely not your intellectual equal.”

“Maybe that’s not where I want him to be equal,” she said, watching Carter enter the bar. This was the Sin on the Beach festival. It would be almost criminal not to have some fun. Carter had a happy-to-please boyish way about him. An all-around good-time playmate. She became aware of Matt’s stare. “What?”

“Nothing. Just watching you watch him.” Was that sarcasm? Maybe he felt a little jealous, too. Hmm.

“Shall we hit the bar?” she said. “We can make it another sociability lesson—see how many people you can meet.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, brushing the sand from his legs, then his chest and arms. She imagined those hands on her, brushing sand from all those pesky places….

Stop that now. “Put this on,” she said, handing him the WHIM SIM T-shirt. Enough with the bare chest already. She put on her blouse and tied it at her waist.

The T-shirt was tight on Matt and hugged every muscle and dip on his torso, making it no help at all.

She pulled her gaze away and headed for the bar. They’d have one drink and then she’d show Matt her work. That meant no booze for her. She’d stick with club soda. Mentally patting herself on the back for her good sense, she pushed open the rough-wood door to find utter drunken chaos.

The place was packed and noisy with pounding rock and drunken laughter, which swelled and subsided like ocean waves. Three women wearing bikinis danced on the massive mahogany bar. Guys on stools bellowed and whistled at them.

Down the way, a bartender in the staff uniform of a blue Hawaiian shirt passed a lighter over three liqueur shots, which burst into wavering flames. Blue martinis, the bar’s signature drink, were half price, so blue liquor gleamed from martini glasses at nearly every table.

“Wow,” Matt said, turning to her. He’d changed from dark glasses to regular ones before they walked in and she noticed that his eyes matched the bar’s martinis. “It’s pretty wild in here.”

“It’s summer at the beach. Time to bust out. For these people anyway.” She tried not to sound sad. She itched to join the fun.

“Come on.” Matt guided her to the bar and found a place inches from the tipsy dancers grinding away above them. He glanced up, then down. “Interesting,” he said politely. “What would you like to drink?” He surveyed the menu overhead where specials were written in pink and green neon.

“Club soda with lime,” she said grimly.

“How about we try the Tsunami for Two?”

She read the ingredients—crème de cacao, blue curaçao, rum, vodka and a bunch of juices to mask the booze. Guaranteed to make you karaoke drunk. She could even see a karaoke setup on the stage at the far side of the bar. “I don’t think so. Too intense. We’re working later.” She felt like a complete deadbeat saying such a thing in a place like this.

“Come on. When in Rome, huh? We can ‘work’ tomorrow.” He made quote marks around work. He thought she was joking.

That sent a surge of irritation through her. “It’s your funeral.” She would stick with her plan no matter what.

Before long, they sat at a round table barely big enough to hold the gigantic froufrou drink Matt had ordered. It was in a ceramic boat shaped like a hollowed-out tree trunk filled with blue liquid with whipped-cream whitecaps.

Matt looked down at the sea of booze. “Whose idea was this, anyway?”

“The Romans?” She gulped half her club soda, which was refreshing after so much exercise in the sun.

Matt sipped from the long, red straw at his end. “It’s sweet,” he said. “Thirst-quenching. Try it.”

She leaned in for a sip of her straw. Fruit masked enough booze to turn a straight man into a stripper. “I think I’ll stick with soda. You should pace yourself. Drink some water…”

Matt was studying her face. “Looks like you got some—” He reached out.

“Whipped cream?” She rubbed her nose to get it off.

“No, no. Sun. You’ve got a bit of a burn on your nose.”

She laughed. “I guess after that night with the prickly-pear margaritas, I expect whenever we drink together I’ll end up with something on my face.” And my legs in the air.

“I’m not usually such a gorilla,” he said, grimacing.

“And I’m not clumsy. Usually.”

“I know you’re not.” His words had an undertone of heat that made goose bumps rise all over her body.

“So we both got the wrong impression that night,” she said.

“Evidently.” He looked relieved, too, and some of her embarrassment over the Tiger-Thong Incident faded.

She scooped a bit of whipped cream from their drink boat and licked it off her finger. “Mmm.”

She heard Matt suck in his breath and her gaze shot to him. Licking was a suggestive thing to do. She stopped with the tip of her tongue at the middle of her upper lip. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was…nice.” He sighed, still watching her.

“So, how badly am I burned?” she asked him.

“Not too badly here.” He touched the tip of her nose with a cool finger. “Check your shoulders.”

She pushed her blouse down her arms and craned to see. “Maybe I should get SPF 60,” she said, but when she looked at Matt he wore the strangest expression.

“Anything over 45 is a waste,” he said faintly. “Most sunscreens only block UVB rays. The real damage is done by UVA rays, except avobenzone isn’t yet available in the U.S., so—” He stopped. “Too much information, huh?”

“No, it’s good to know. Do you think I’ll blister?” She tilted a shoulder at him.

He touched her skin, sending a tingle through her that had nothing to do with her sunburn. “Doesn’t look like it. No.” He dropped his fingers to the table.

In the dim light, he looked a little dangerous in the black T-shirt that fit him like a second skin with his bad-boy chip and his intense gaze. Also, his inner calm and confidence. She’d bet he was an attentive lover, who took his time. With every…little…body part…Mmm.

Not what she should be thinking about right now. She had a job to do. Time to get to it. “So, networking…” she said. “We should get on that.”

Matt blew out a breath. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“The idea is to expand your circle of contacts, meet as many people as you can. The more you meet, the more likely you’ll find people who want our products.”

“I get the theory. It’s the logistics that stump me.”

“The secret is open-ended questions. Talk less, listen more. Any answer you get should lead to another question. People love to be listened to. As you talk, you’ll discover what you have in common and develop rapport. Naturally, you work around to business topics, product needs and stuff like that.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is. Once you get the hang of it. I’ll demonstrate.”

She started up a conversation with the couple at the next table about the blue martinis they were drinking, ending with an invitation to visit SyncUp, since the pair turned out to be communications majors at UCLA.

When it was over, Matt grinned at her. “You’re amazing. Another minute and they’d have asked you to be a bridesmaid in their wedding.”

She laughed, warmed by his praise.

“How did you learn this, anyway?” he asked.

“Some of it’s instinct, but I practice. Also, I’ve been going on client visits with one of our customer liaisons, picking up customer interests and ideas.”

“I didn’t know you did that.”

“There’s lots you don’t know about me,” she said, advancing her cause, she hoped.

“I imagine so,” he said softly, studying her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she had a feeling it was more personal than professional.

“Anyway, now it’s your turn to try. If we were at a convention, I’d challenge you to collect twenty business cards.”

“I doubt many of these people carry cards,” Matt said, watching two girls in bikinis walk by.

“So collect phone numbers.”

“Won’t the women think I’m coming on to them?”

“Not if you give off a business vibe. Or you could just talk to the men.”

“So they can think I’m coming on to them?”

She laughed. “No man with functional gaydar would think you’re playing for the other team.”

“It’s because I don’t layer, isn’t it?” He pretended to be sad, shaking his head in false gloom.

“Definitely,” she joked, not willing to dwell on the details of his masculinity. “We’ll fix that tomorrow.”

“Uh-oh,” Matt said.

“Relax. I promise it will be as painless as possible.”

“I’m in your hands.”

Don’t I wish. A sigh escaped her and Matt’s eyes locked on.

“What the hell is that?”

They both jolted at the interruption. Jaycee was pointing at the booze boat, then crouched beside Matt so her breasts bulged up at him like grapefruit fighting for air.

“It’s a Tsunami for Two.” Matt held out his straw and Jaycee sipped, leaning forward to emphasize her cleavage. Gentleman that he was, Matt kept his gaze trained on her face.

“Yum,” she said, smacking her lips. An old Cars tune rocked through the bar. “Want to dance?” she asked him.

“I can’t dance,” Matt said, shrugging.

“After that, you can.” She nodded at the Tsunami.

“Candy and I are talking business.”

Jaycee looked askance.

“It can wait,” Candy said. “Go on, Matt.” If he got busy with Jaycee, that would be a surefire end to Candy’s fixation.

“Maybe later,” he said to Jaycee.

She shrugged—your loss—then bounded back to her table, not wounded at all.

“You could have gone,” Candy said in case Matt was trying to be chivalrous. “I’d be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure you would be,” he said, “but we’re working, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?” He held her gaze, then seemed to catch himself and ducked down to take a long pull on his straw. “This tastes better and better.”

“Maybe you should give it a rest. Want some?” She tilted her club soda at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, waving her away, drinking deeply from the booze boat. “I feel more like slapping backs with every swallow. How many phone numbers should I get, coach?”

“We should make it interesting. Maybe a competition? See which of us can meet the most people?”

“You’re too good. You’ll win hands down.”

“I’ll give myself a handicap…say I get two for every one you get. How’s that?”

“Sounds fair. What are the stakes?”

“Let me think about that for a while.” She should come up with something they’d both want.

A roar rose as a woman was passed over the top of a group of guys, then lowered to the floor.

“It’s kind of crazy in here,” Matt said. “Maybe we should find another place.”

“You have to seize the moment. You never know where a contact will come from.” She watched five guys drop shots into beer mugs and guzzle them. Matt may have a point.

“Hey, lady. You, me, there!” Carter pointed at her, then him, then the dance floor.

She looked at Matt.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ve got this to finish.” He motioned at the Tsunami.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” she said, but Carter had led her too far away to be heard over the noise.

On the crowded dance floor, Carter rested his hands lightly on her hips for the slowish song. She looked over at Matt, who was sucking down his drink way too fast.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Carter asked.

“Huh?” She looked at him. “After this?”

“Yeah. After this.” He was clearly interested in spending more time with her, but with Matt around, she didn’t dare risk anything that might reinforce her party-girl image.

“Working,” she said sadly.

He looked at her questioningly.

“Really,” she said on a sigh. She glanced toward Matt just as a curvy brunette in a teensy bikini was leading him to the floor. That was a surprise.

When they were close enough, Matt leaned toward Candy. “I’ll be getting her number,” he said, sounding a bit boozy. The Tsunami seemed to have reached land.

He turned to his partner, who promptly wiggled down his body, freak style, then up again. Matt’s eyes went wide and he froze.

Candy almost burst out laughing. The girl turned her back, bent forward and rubbed her bottom in a deliberate circle against his crotch.

Matt looked at Candy over the woman’s bent body and shrugged, hands up.

“When in Rome!” she called to him. She could rescue him, but first she’d see how he handled this on his own.