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“The point is the PQ2 got me wrong.” She spoke too fiercely. “It mischaracterized you, too, remember?”
He didn’t respond and she was afraid she’d sounded too defensive.
“Anyway, I want to show you what I’m thinking on Ledger Lite.” She put her finger on the touch pad, except at that instant the machine ominously ceased grinding. The screen was white—half built.
“Damn!” She banged the side of the laptop. “The tech guys said this unit was a workhorse.”
“Let me take a look.” Matt turned the computer toward him, swamping her with the scent of lime and warm man. He clicked keys, then rebooted with three nimble-looking, knowing-seeming fingers.
She couldn’t help imagining what they might do to her private touch pad. She shifted away from him, bumping the computer cord. There was a crackle and the screen went dead black.
“Ah. May be a short in the transformer,” Matt said. He unplugged the cord assembly and carried it to the kitchen.
Now what? She hadn’t printed out anything since the spreadsheets were huge and the artwork mock-up looked better on screen. If her computer was dead, so was her plan.
IT WASN’T AS THOUGH HE could actually fix the damn cord, but Matt needed to escape Candy Calder. She smelled as sweet as her name and inhaling near her made it impossible to hold a thought that didn’t have sex in it.
He pawed through the drawers looking for a Phillips screwdriver, but had to settle for a paring knife, which he twisted into the tiny bolts on the transformer box.
This predicament had Ellie’s fingerprints all over it. She must have figured that Candy would cheer him up after Jane.
The odd thing was that the breakup hadn’t been as hard on him as he’d expected. Maybe he was numb or still in shock, but he’d felt mostly relief, which didn’t seem like the proper response to the end of a nine-month relationship.
Either way, he had no business hanging with Candy Calder and her mischievous eyes the same violet as the SyncUp logo. Or those puffy lips of hers. He’d watched her wrap them around a margarita glass that night after his first week at SyncUp and wanted—no, craved—a taste. Then he’d fumbled the kiss and knocked her on her ass.
The woman threw him, made him act herky-jerky and stupid. And now she’d dragged an old computer here to show him her work? What was her angle? It couldn’t be the same as Ellie’s. No way would Candy allow Ellie to plot a hookup. After that goofed kiss, Candy thought him an oaf. Probably had had a good laugh with her SyncUp friends. And everyone at SyncUp loved Candy. The whole place rang with her laughter.
The husky honey of her voice warmed him straight through, made it hard to think about anything but her.
The PQ2 had nailed her and her playfulness, all right. It had nailed him, too, for that matter. He was nonsocial, as she’d said. He valued alone time, hated mindless chatter and worked hard. Maybe too hard, but he loved what he did, dammit, and what was wrong with spending time with what he loved?
Something was. Even Jane had gotten on his case. Supposedly that’s why she’d broken up with him. What had she called him? A workaholic with no capacity for relaxation. Then she’d gotten nasty. You wouldn’t know fun if it threw you a surprise party.
That was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, if he’d ever heard one. A commitment to their careers was something they shared. Hell, Jane routinely put in sixty-hour weeks at her law firm. He had no problem with that. They’d fit their relationship around their schedules just fine.
Fun had its place, but hard work and dedication were what had earned him the VP spot at a hot software firm. And now, to keep it, he’d have to learn to…chitchat. God.
He was an engineer first, a marketer second and nowhere in there an ass-kissing backslapper.
Ironic that he’d been discussing his problem with Candy, who was the most social person he knew.
The last screw emerged from the transformer box, so he tried separating the two halves. No use. There seemed to be an adhesive. He was prying it open with the knife blade when Candy approached.
“You getting it off?” she asked softly, inches away.
Her closeness and her words made him stab himself in the thumb. “Damn.” Blood oozed, so he pressed his index finger against the spot.
“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 cool. I always had a thing for sexy bass players. Silent…moody…deep.”
He shook his head. “Did you ever consider we might be silent because we had nothing to say?”
“Don’t destroy my fantasy.” She covered her ears with her hands, pleased when he chuckled. “What kind of music did you play?”
“Ska, rhythm & blues. Top 40 hits for parties. We weren’t together that long.”
“Long enough to get laid, though?”
“There was that.” He winced with pretend guilt. She could see him with a guitar at his hips, moving to the music, flashing that chipped tooth at the girls who caught his eye. Desire shivered through her.
To hide her reaction, she held out the flyer so they could both see it. “Doesn’t look like they’ve got a battle of the bands going, so what other hobbies have you got?”
“Photography. I took a couple of classes.”
“Photography? Oh. Hang on…Yes! Here. The Hot Shot Photo Scavenger Hunt tomorrow night. It’s sponsored by a cell-phone company. Does your cell take pictures?”
“Sure.” He leaned toward her to dig into his back pocket for his phone, and for that fleeting moment, she was hyperaware of his body, his muscles, how he smelled, how easy it would be to lie back on the couch and take him with her.
Finally, he sat back, ending the sensory assault, flipped open the phone and handed it to her.
“This is the same model I have,” she said, managing to sound normal. She clicked into the photos he’d stored, curious about what he’d saved. “You saved pictures of computers?”
“I was checking out monitors,” he said.
She kept clicking and found shots of digital cameras…shelves in a computer store…sales displays. “Where are your friends? Your mom? Ellie, for God’s sake?”
“I have pictures of them. Just not on my phone.” He reached for the phone, but she held it away.
“I’m not finished looking.” He kept reaching while she playfully held back. His arm brushed her breasts, giving her a tingling rush.
He pulled away immediately. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Matt had taken the blame for the Thong Incident, too, which had clearly been a two-person catastrophe.
She focused on the phone photos, fighting the waves she still felt. Then she hit the jackpot—a shot of Matt wearing Mickey Mouse ears. His dark hair curled messily from beneath the brim and he managed to look grave and sweet at the same time.
“This is so cute,” she said, showing it to him.
“God. Ellie,” Matt said. “One of her customers had just been to Disneyland. You know how Ellie gets.”
“I’m glad she took this. It’s proof you can loosen up.”
