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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.
