Swept Away Read online

  SWEPT AWAY

  Dawn Atkins

  To Cindi and Coco, for inviting me into this series.

  Your boundless creativity and enthusiasm

  made this story a pure joy to write!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  Tremendous thanks to Ann Videan

  of Videan Unlimited for her

  software marketing expertise and moral support

  in the writing of this story.

  Contents

  Acknowledgment

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Prologue

  CANDY CALDER TOOK a deep breath and blurted the news that upset her as much as it would disappoint her friends. “I can’t make the Malibu trip.”

  “What? No!” Ellie Rockwell set down Candy’s order of café de Sade—the double-mocha espresso she’d created for Candy—so hard it slopped onto the polished oak bar.

  “You’re kidding,” Sara Montgomery added in her soft Southern accent, her latte stalled mid-sip.

  “I have to buckle down at work,” Candy said—as much to remind herself as to explain to her friends. “My reputation is at stake.”

  “What’s wrong with your reputation?” Ellie asked. “You work hard and you play hard. That’s perfect for a software marketing genius.”

  “I’m hardly a genius, Ellie, but thanks.”

  Ellie shoved her pitch-black hair behind one ear and leaned forward, ready to fix this. Everyone who entered Dark Gothic Roast, the coffee bar that matched Ellie’s glam-goth style, got a blend of java, advice and whatever help Ellie could manage.

  “This was your idea,” Sara said. “You said we needed a girl-getaway.” Her words made Candy grin. It hadn’t been easy to convince Sara she could afford a week away from her uncle’s title company where she served as his right arm, left arm and both legs.

  “I know, but it can’t be helped. I got a bad test result.” Candy made a face.

  “What kind of test?” Ellie said. “Pap smear? Mammogram? Get a second opinion before you panic, hon. They make mistakes—”

  “A personality test, Ellie. SyncUp employees had to beta-test the Personality Quotient 2. I should have come out ‘works hard, plays hard,’ but the PQ2 says I’m ‘all play, all the time.’ When your brother sees that, my goose is cooked in the department.” Ellie’s brother Matt had just been appointed marketing vice president for SyncUp and was suddenly Candy’s boss.

  “Matt knows you. And when you hear my news, you’ll change your mind. Listen, I got—”

  “I’ll still pay my share,” Candy interrupted. Ellie had scored a screaming deal on a beach house through a customer who was a property manager.

  “You have to come,” Ellie pressed, “because I got—”

  “You’ll be fine without me, El. You’ll still have Sara and the festival.” The week-long event was in celebration of the second-season launch of Ellie’s favorite TV show, Sin on the Beach, which was the only reason Ellie would agree to leave her precious coffee bar in the hands of her assistant for so long.

  “This is my last chance to impress Matt before he appoints the team leaders next week.” The department re-org was supposed to be hush-hush, but Candy had learned about it through Matt’s secretary, who was a friend. Matt would be assigning his staff to one of five product teams and choosing a leader for each. She intended to be one of them.

  “That makes the trip perfect. Matt’s going to be—”

  Candy grabbed Ellie’s arm. “Speak of the devil. Don’t look now.” Over Ellie’s shoulder, Candy watched Matt Rockwell stroll in, managing to look hot in boring khaki Dockers and a hopelessly wrinkled oxford shirt. His aviator glasses weren’t quite retro and his chestnut hair was too shaggy to be stylish, but the overall effect was just-rolled-out-of-bed sexy and it made her tight between the thighs.

  The man’s rumpled kissability was partly the cause of the Thong Incident nine months ago at Matt’s first happy hour at SyncUp. Because of that, the man who now held her career in his hands had an all-wrong opinion of her.

  She cringed for the thousandth time.

  Matt caught sight of her, reddened, paused as if he wanted to make a break for it, then soldiered on.

  When he was close enough, Candy said, “Hey, Matt.” Her own cheeks were idiotically on fire.

  “How are you, Candy?” He nodded soberly.

  “Fine. Just fine. You?”

  “Fine.” He cleared his throat, looked at her, breathed.

  She breathed back, feeling her friends’ eyes boring in.

  “See you up there.” Matt poked a thumb toward the ceiling, meaning the sixteenth floor, where the SyncUp office was. He looked at Ellie, then motioned down the counter, meaning he’d give his order to her assistant, so she could keep talking.

  “He is so still into you,” Ellie whispered to Candy.

  “He is so still mortified by me. And he has a girlfriend, remember?” He’d hooked up with Jane—a coolly sophisticated attorney Ellie dubbed the Ice Princess—shortly after the Incident. He’d probably run to the woman’s arms screaming “sanctuary.”

  “Nuh-uh. She broke up with him last week. Which brings me to my point, if you’ll only let me—”

  “Really?” Candy’s heart did a stupid hip-hop. “I mean…so? Managers get copies of the PQ2 for sure. When Matt sees my scores, I’m dead. I have to counteract that.”

  “Do it in Malibu. That’s my point. Matt will be there. He got the use-it-or-lose-it speech on his unused vacation, so I nabbed him a condo for next week, too. Just down from our beach house, as a matter of fact.”

  “Matt will be there? You nabbed him a…? Just down from…oh.” Her heart was still doing that weird frog-jump behind her ribs. “But how will that solve my PQ2 problem?” Transfixed by the idea of Matt on vacation with her at the beach, she couldn’t quite grasp Ellie’s point.

  “Bring work with you. Show Matt how dedicated you are.” She gave Candy her patented Ellie’s-on-the-case wink. “Who knows what might happen after that?”

  “No way, Ellie. That ship sailed on a sea of margaritas.” Candy wished she’d never let Ellie in on her thing for Matt. Now she simply would not let it go. The only good news was Ellie had sworn not to say a word to her brother about it.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Candy saw Matt accept his coffee—Columbian and always black. Without even trying she’d memorized stupid details about the man.

  “Tell her she can’t cancel, Sara,” Ellie said. “Who will help me pry your fingers off your laptop and get you onto a surfboard?” Back in the day Sara had been a beach babe.

  “Come on. I’m not that bad,” Sara said.

  Ellie and Candy spoke in unison. “Oh, yes you are.”

  Sara groaned.

  Meanwhile, Candy caught sight of Matt heading for the door. At the last second, he glanced back, straight at her, as though he’d felt her stare.

  She wiggled her fingers like a moony girl, disgusted with herself. Matt nodded, a funny expression on his face. Was he picturing her in her thong? The thought made her face flame so hot she bet she could stop traffic.

  She returned her attention to her friends, fighting for focus. Now where was she? Oh, yeah. “You think I can work at the beach?” A working vacation was so not her. And at the beach of all places. That would be downright torture.

  “Work hard, play hard. That’s your philosophy, right?” Ellie said. “Prove i
t. Do both.”

  Could she? She wanted to believe she could. When she’d joked in the break room about how wrong her PQ2 results were, she’d been mortified to notice that no one laughed along. They agreed with the test! And that hurt. It reminded her how her high-achieving family treated her—like a lost soul, a child whom no one took seriously. She hated that. She was determined this promotion would make her family see her through new eyes.

  “You’ll be away from the office, alone together. Just you and Matt and all that…work.” Ellie waggled her brows.

  Despite Ellie’s ulterior motive, the idea had merit. Away from SyncUp, she and Matt could connect. Professionally, of course. She was better face-to-face anyway. And she had that proposal she’d been working up that she could show him.

  She looked into her friends’ hopeful faces. How could she let them down? Ellie needed me-time and Sara needed a break from indentured servitude. Someone had to make sure they got it. And what did Candy need?

  Matt’s respect. And maybe more confidence in her own abilities. Maybe this was just the way to get it.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I’m back in.”

  “Whew!” Sara lifted her latte in a toast. “Here’s to a week of fun, sun and men in Speedos.”

  “And work,” Candy added. “Fun, sun, men in Speedos and work.” The word was a sour note in the song of the moment, but at least she’d be with her friends.

  “I have a good feeling about this trip,” Ellie said. “I think it will change our lives.”

  Candy had a feeling, too. A funny, nervous one that had to do with seeing Matt in swim trunks. She made a mental note to keep her feet on the ground and her underwear covered.

  1

  “HOW DID YOU EVER TALK me into this?” Candy asked Ellie as they crossed the last few yards to Matt’s beach house. “Mixing work and play is like chasing a tequila shot with a piña colada—guaranteed puke-fest.”

  “Trust me,” Ellie said. “It’ll be fine.”

  “And this thing weighs a ton.” She shifted the antique laptop she’d borrowed from the SyncUp IT department to her other shoulder and wiggled her toes in her sandals to relieve the irritation of grinding sand. The beach was meant for bare feet, not shoes, for God’s sake.

  “You should have swiped Sara’s computer so she’d have no excuse not to be in a bikini this minute,” Ellie said.

  “I can’t believe she sneaked that little printer into her bag.”

  “Fighting your nature is not easy,” Ellie said.

  “No kidding.” That was as clear to Candy as the Malibu sky overhead, where no cloud troubled the bright blue expanse. Her whole body ached to toss this computer onto the nearest porch, grab a tiki drink and frolic in the foam.

  “This will work,” Ellie said again, squeezing Candy’s upper arm. “I know it will.”

  Candy blinked against the sunlight glancing off the sparkling water. It was all so tempting—the gently swooshing waves, the kids shrieking as they dashed into the water, the spectacular hunks jogging by—tan and muscular and ready to play.

  But this was no time for Candy’s inner girl-gone-wild to lift her pale face to the sun. She had a mission, dammit, and her future at SyncUp hung in the balance.

  On the other hand, she’d worn her yellow bikini beneath the white capris and white blouse she’d knotted at her waist, and her straw beach bag held a towel, sunscreen and flip-flops—just in case she squeezed in some beach time. She was prepared to seize whatever pleasure she could out of this trip.

  She fished her cell phone out of the tight pocket of her capris to be sure it was on loud ring. Sara was due to fake a work call after they reached Matt’s place.

  A big dog wearing a red bandanna galloped up and snuffled Candy’s hand, then back-stepped away, inviting her to toss something—her phone?

  “Wish I could, Bucko,” she said, “but I need it.”

  With a little yelp, the dog galloped off in search of someone who understood what the beach was for. Candy sighed. Maybe later she’d catch up with the cheerful guy. For now, she stood at the bottom of Matt’s stairs.

  “Ready to dazzle my brother with your work ethic?” Ellie asked.

  Candy rubbed the top of her nose. “Yep. All raw from the grindstone.”

  “Showtime, then.” Ellie started upward.

  Candy grabbed her arm. “No ad-libbing, now. No hints, no winks, no nudges. Matt and I will never be a notch on your matchmaker’s belt.”

  “Whatever you say.” Ellie’s cheerful concession was too easy, Candy knew, vowing to watch her friend closely.

  Ellie bounded up the stairs and Candy followed, her heart pounding as loudly in her ears as Ellie’s knock.

  When Matt opened the door, Candy’s heart took a header into her stomach. The way it had before that mortifying kiss gone wrong, when she’d landed on her back—legs in the air, tiger thong on display, dignity out the window.

  “Hello,” Matt said to Ellie, then caught sight of her. “And Candy?” His eyes grabbed her, a piercing blue, even through his glasses. When Matt looked at her, he really looked. As though she were a tangled computer code he must decipher or die.

  Read me, baby, she wanted to say. Read me all night long.

  His intense focus appealed to her. Also, his calm restraint, beneath which he was probably hotter than hot. Like the mild-mannered alter ego of the all-powerful man of steel.

  Steel…hmm. The thought of his steeliest part made her insides melt like a frozen daiquiri in the sun.

  Stop that. Work, not play.

  “In the flesh,” she said. Flesh? Did you have to say flesh? She rushed on. “When Ellie told me you’d be here, I was relieved someone would understand how to work on vacation.” She patted the laptop. Something tinkled and dropped inside the bag. Nothing vital, she hoped.

  “You’re working? On vacation?” The emphasis on you’re wounded her, but Matt blinked. He didn’t seem to have intended to insult her. She knew him to be a straightforward guy who stuck to the facts. He wasn’t into the nuances of diplomacy.

  “I practically had to drag her here,” Ellie said. “She wanted to cancel because of her project.”

  “What project?” He gave Candy another shot of his blue zingers.

  “I’m working on something for Ledger Lite.” The accounting software was one of SyncUp’s bread-and-butter products. Version 2.0 was set for beta testing and she’d had a great idea she hoped would impress him. “Would you consider taking a look at what I’ve got?”

  His eyes dipped to her breasts, then up, as if she’d invited him to peek at her attributes. Heat rushed through her, but she rattled breathlessly onward. “I wouldn’t bother you, but it’s crucial before the beta launches, so I thought why not?”

  Clunk. Woof!

  She turned to see that the beach dog had dropped a red Frisbee at her feet and now quivered with excitement, expecting her to throw it.

  “Your dog?” Matt asked with a wry half-smile.

  “No, but we’ve met.” The dog recognized her as a kindred spirit, no doubt. She bent for the Frisbee, but “Flight of the Bumblebee” played from her pocket, so she held up a finger to signify business before pleasure and dug for her cell.

  The dog moaned in an agony of disappointment.

  Her pocket was so tight that when she got the phone out, it slipped to the porch. The retriever grabbed it and bounded away.

  Crap. Candy set the computer on the porch, kicked off her sandals and dashed after the dog. Matt had already headed off. So much for her professional impression.

  Seconds later, they were playing keep-away with the nimble canine, feinting and lunging and missing, until Candy finally jumped onto its furry middle and held the dog still so Matt could pry the phone from its jaws.

  After Candy let him go, the dog jumped up and down, eager for another toss of the expensive chew toy.

  Matt helped Candy up. The warmth of his hand zinged through her, the way it had when he’d boosted her to her feet
after the thong flash. He wiped the phone with the bottom of his oxford shirt, giving her a drool-worthy glimpse of a muscular belly. Hmm. Earnest, gallant and buff.

  He handed her the cleaned-up phone. “Great tackle.”

  “Great teamwork,” she said, pressing home her point about her work skills.

  The dog whined piteously for attention.

  “Easy, boy.” Matt patted him, then crouched to read the tag dangling from the middle of the dog’s bandanna. “Looks like your name is Radar, huh?” He scrubbed the top of the dog’s head with his knuckles.

  Candy lowered herself to pet the dog, too, meeting Matt’s eyes over its back. She felt trapped in his gaze even after Radar lost interest in them and galloped off.

  Matt leaned closer, fingers outstretched. She had the crazy thought that he wanted to kiss her again, which couldn’t be true. But electricity blew through her all the same, making her feel swoony and weak.

  Mid-reach, Matt’s fingers stilled. “You have some, uh, sand.” He brushed his own cheek to show her where.

  “Oh. Right.” She smoothed away the grains. That night, she’d mistaken Matt’s swipe at a dab of prickly-pear margarita for a smooch attempt. No wonder she’d gotten confused, what with all the heat crackling between them. Except maybe that had been the big black speaker on the stand beside them, which Matt dislodged when Candy moved in to make the kiss easier.

  He caught the speaker, but missed Candy, who toppled off her platform sandals into thong-baring infamy.

  “You got it,” Matt said now, smiling. She imagined tugging off his glasses, then stripping to the skin to go at it like sex-starved beach trash.

  Bad, bad Candy. She sighed, smiled and stood to call Sara back, praying dog drool hadn’t gummed her phone’s works.

  Sara answered immediately. “What happened?”

  “My phone got away from me,” she said, shooting a smile at Matt. “Sorry.”