Swept Away Read online

“Are you hungry?” she asked softly.

  “Starving,” he answered, but neither of them seemed to be talking about food.

  8

  YOU SET YOURSELF UP, girl, Candy realized as they drove back from the mall, heading for the deli to appease their hunger. Like a couple of sandwiches from the chichi deli could relieve the ache inside her, the way she craved Matt’s touch.

  He’d been tough to resist before, but after the makeover, now that he looked like Fun Guy, he’d become one of those perfect sundaes where you licked the bowl afterward, with no regrets at all about blowing your diet because it was so worth it.

  Now, she was depending on her weakest part—self control—to keep the lid on her feelings for the man.

  All that time touching him while he tried on clothes had left her feeling raw and exposed, vulnerable to any glance or movement. When he tapped his finger on the steering wheel, she got a charge.

  They would eat their sandwiches on the beach before the festival events began. That had been her stupid idea. It had sounded good at the time, but now she realized it meant more hours together non-stop. After they ate, it would be time for the limbo contest and then the photo hunt. The prospect exhausted her.

  She racked her brain for some aspect of Matt that turned her off, some nerdy flaw, but she couldn’t think of a single one. At the moment, Matt was a total hottie.

  It’s just the makeover effect, she told herself. Merely a superficial change. Matt was still the same distant, work-obsessed intellectual he’d been yesterday, locked in his head, glued to his keyboard. Hell, the man had to be forced to go on vacation. She’d had to drag him outside to notice the beauty of the beach, the sea, the moment. She did not relate at all.

  She sighed and stared out the window.

  Matt seemed lost in thought, too, staring ahead as he drove. The silence felt thick, but she didn’t know if it was from sexual tension or mutual weariness, or both. She wasn’t sure what Matt was feeling. When he’d said he’d had enough in the boutique, she’d thought it was because of all the touching they’d done, the close looks, the intimacy of seeing him nearly nude again. But maybe he’d just been sick of changing clothes. Worse, she didn’t know which she wanted it to be.

  At least the scenery was distracting. The ocean gleamed in the gathering sunset. It would be nice to watch the waves as they ate. She should appreciate whatever beach time she could net from this complicated vacation.

  At the deli, while Matt picked out a bottle of wine, she visited with the clerk about the sandwich selections, finally settling on Black Forest ham with Dofino cheese on herbed focaccia fresh from the oven. The clerk seemed flattered by all her questions and offered the special honey-horseradish mustard sauce the employees usually kept for themselves, which she thought was sweet of him.

  When Matt got out his wallet to pay, a couple of business cards fell to the floor. Candy picked them up. “Did you score these from the mall?”

  “Yeah. I only got six though.” He shrugged.

  “That’s excellent. Really.”

  “What about you?”

  “I got twelve, but I got lucky. I ran into a bunch of sales guys at the juice bar. They live to hand out cards.”

  “Candy, if they’d been monks sworn to silence, you’d have them reciting poetry to you. Writing it on the spot.”

  She smiled, warmed by his compliment. “Anyway, with my handicap, that puts us neck-and-neck.”

  “Speaking of neck…” He brushed hers with his fingertips. “It’s showing.” He meant the love bite he’d given her.

  She shivered, thinking of how she’d gotten it, and put her finger there. It felt warm to the touch. “I’ll use more makeup next time.”

  “Don’t. I like seeing it. It reminds me….”

  “Me, too,” she said, her heart lifting at his words. Which was not helpful at all. It would be so much better if he showed more regret. If they both did. If they could forget it altogether. Paying up, they then drove to the beach house.

  Before long, they found a great spot from which to watch the receding tide and settled on a rock outcropping to unpack their meal and pour wine into plastic goblets.

  The lowering sun was painting the sky orange and pink, the ocean silver and bronze. A handful of surfers skimmed the sunset waves. It was a gift to be here, to enjoy this easy beauty. Candy breathed deeply of the sea air, letting it dissolve her tension, her aching desire for Matt.

  “Isn’t this a miracle?” she said. “Being here?”

  “It is,” he said, smiling warmly.

  He made her feel…watched over. Protected. She’d never felt this way with a guy. Because she’d never settled on one? Or had she never chosen guys who gave off this vibe? She realized she liked it—this sense of connection, the security of being a couple.

  It was completely false, though, to feel this way, however fleetingly, with Matt. They were actors in front of a blue screen on which exotic scenery had been projected. She was here because of work—they both were. This wasn’t a romance and she didn’t dare forget it.

  She took a bite of her sandwich to distract herself. “Mmm, good sandwiches, huh?” She loved the combination of herb-infused bread, smoky sweet ham and creamy cheese. The dressing brought it all together with a little zing.

  “Great choice, Candy. I would have just said two Number Ones and been content. You had the guy dragging out the best ham and the secret sauce.”

  “The sauce is great, huh? It blends the flavors and adds a surprise.” Exactly how their sex had been—a blending and a surprise. Stop that.

  She forced herself to make a point. “This is a good lesson, really. People love to share what they know, what they have—their secret sauce, really—if you show you’re interested.”

  “Yeah, but you have a gift, Candy.”

  “What about you? You got six cards in a half hour.”

  “The sixth was a cheat. I asked a guy for directions to the salon and his cards were on a display rack at his elbow.”

  Candy laughed. “But you asked for directions! That’s so brave. Men never ask for directions.”

  “Good point. Maybe this makeover is turning me into a girlie man.” His eyes danced with mischief.

  “No chance of that,” she said softly, then quickly changed the subject. “So what worked with the business cards?”

  “What you said about listening more than talking, I guess. I didn’t feel like I had to entertain anyone. I met a couple of interesting people—one guy owns a worm farm and another builds bomb-safe doors for nuclear plants.”

  “How fascinating.”

  “Neither one needed software, so I don’t know that I accomplished anything.”

  “So what? Side trips are the best part of life.”

  “Spoken like a person willing to blow an important meeting to chase a dog.”

  “I explained what happened, Matt,” she said, stung by the zinger, just as she’d been when he’d called her an expert with hangovers and wild bar parties. Matt still didn’t respect her enough. “It was a unique circumstance and—”

  “Hey, that was a joke. I’m just getting the hang of Fun Guy and you’re turning into Serious Girl on me?” He touched her cheek, coaxing her into a smile.

  “Sorry. I’m…I guess I’m tired.” She knew she couldn’t demand Matt’s respect; she had to earn it, but she still felt discouraged.

  “Tell you what,” Matt said, “here’s what I want if I win our competition—come with me to the conference. Be my secret networking weapon. How’s that?”

  He was appeasing her, she knew, easing her hurt feelings, but she decided to make the most of it. “I’d be happy to go, whether you win or not. For you and SyncUp, I’m there.” She ticked her plastic wine glass against his, then lifted it for a drink.

  “Deal,” he said.

  “Great choice in wine, by the way.”

  “It was the best value at that price point.”

  “God, Matt. Couldn’t you pretend you chose it
for its smoky blackberry nose and clean finish?”

  “Sorry.” He winced in pretend regret.

  “Have you always been that way? Cut to the chase, travel in straight lines, no chitchat, get the best value?”

  “I guess so. Maybe it was because my mom depended on me after our dad left.”

  “That makes sense. Ellie told me a little about what happened.” Ellie and Matt’s mother came to L.A. to become an actress, but never quite made it. Flamboyant and emotionally fragile, she was wrecked when her husband left her.

  “Ellie was young—six? How old were you?”

  “Ten,” Matt said.

  “That must have been hard.”

  “Not so bad really. You do what you have to do when you’re in the middle of things. Looking back, it seems sad, but at the time I liked the responsibility. I was proud my family could count on me. I liked being dependable. Then and now.”

  “But what about what you want? What feeds your soul?”

  “Excuse me?” He shot her a questioning look. “You going woo-woo on me here?”

  “It’s an important question—whether you do what you do out of obligation or joy—don’t you think?”

  “You’ve had too much of this.” He pretended to take her wine away. “Why can’t it be both? I get satisfaction from my work. And I’m glad people count on me. It’s who I am.”

  “Sure, but if your family situation had been different? If you hadn’t been forced to grow up so fast, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up so serious and focused.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He smiled. “To you it is, I guess. I take it you had a carefree childhood?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “I’m the youngest and I have two older brothers. Robert, the younger, is ten years older than me and Philip, twelve.”

  “So you were the baby? I bet they spoiled you.”

  “Of course.” Her mouth twisted with that admission. “Maybe that’s why it took me so long to get my act together in college.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I changed my major a bunch. First, I wanted to be a psychologist, then I studied art history, then creative writing, then I quit and worked for a while—for a direct-mail marketing firm, then an ad agency. I really liked advertising, so I finished up with a marketing degree. Finally.”

  “You figured it out.” He was being kind.

  “At twenty-four? Come on. Plus, after that I floated freelance for a while, switched jobs a bunch. My brothers just shake their heads. They were partners in their law firms by the time they were my age. Philip’s in corporate law and Robert’s a litigator.”

  “Lots of people get degrees and still don’t know what they want,” Matt said. “And twenty-four is young.”

  “But I wasted time and money. My parents’money.”

  “Was it a sacrifice for them?”

  “You mean financially? Not really, I guess. They’re in good shape with money. They built their signage company from nothing to a factory with fifty employees. See? High achievers all around. Except for me. I’m the misfit.”

  “I’m sure they don’t see you that way.”

  “They don’t get me at all.” She shook her head, weary of that status, then smiled at him. “Our childhoods were so different. Which do you think was better?” she mused. “Being too indulged or too burdened?”

  “It’s more a matter of fit, really, I think. If the way you’re wired and the environment you grow up in match, things go smoothly. If not, there’s friction.”

  She stared at him. She’d never thought about it that way before. “So my problem is I got the wrong family?”

  He laughed. “I doubt it’s ever that simple. In my case, the fit turned out to be right. I’m wired to be responsible and that’s what my family needed. Of course Ellie took over supporting our mother after I went to college. She’s wired that way, too.”

  He looked out across the ocean, swinging his plastic cup from his fingertips, the movement mesmerizing.

  “Did you always know what you wanted to be when you grew up?” she asked. “Were you born with a punch card in your fist?”

  “Pretty much.” He gave a soundless laugh. “I built my first computer from components at fourteen. That made computer engineering an obvious major.”

  “So how’d you get to SyncUp?”

  “It fit my career path. I’ve chosen each job to broaden my experience and get more responsibility. I jumped at the spot at SyncUp. It’s a great company and a tremendous opportunity. Scott’s got vision.”

  “Yeah. I like Scott.”

  “What about SyncUp? Do you like working there?” He seemed to dig at her when he asked that, as if he expected her to say no.

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “You stir up so much mischief, I thought you might be bored.”

  Bored? The word gave her a skittering feeling, as though the bottom had dropped from her stomach. Sure, her mind wandered during meetings and follow-up details irritated her. Once she’d figured something out, she wanted to move on. But did it show as boredom? Really? Is that what Matt thought?

  She had to turn that around, make it show her aptitude for a promotion. “I like a challenge, Matt,” she said. “I believe in meeting expectations and going the extra mile. Take stretch goals, for example. I believe in them. If you want to grow, you have to reach out of your comfort zone.”

  He held up his hand. “Whoa. This is starting to sound like a performance review. I’m asking as a friend, not as your boss.”

  “Oh. Sure. As a friend.” Or a lover? They’d been lovers, after all. Which gave her a delicious thrill. It was so wild, so amazing. She’d slept with Matt Rockwell. It was hard to believe and, in a secret part of herself, she celebrated it.

  The rest of her knew it was a mistake she had to forget.

  As dusk gathered around them, though, she became more aware of details about Matt—the way he breathed and moved, the way his tan deepened as the light faded. He picked up a piece of driftwood and flung it into the sunset-silvered water and she liked the tensing of his muscles, his follow-through and the way he watched for the stick to land, then smiled.

  Dusk seemed like a curtain drawing around them, making her want to tuck into the cave of his body, tip up her chin for a kiss. Let the darkening sky blanket them, cozy and intimate, after a long day spent in each other’s company.

  She realized she rarely spent entire days with a guy. They did movies, clubs, maybe a hike up Squaw Peak or a long mountain-bike ride. Sex, of course, sometimes with breakfast the next morning. But never more than a few hours at a time.

  For hanging out, she preferred her friends—Ellie and Sara, when she could pry them away from work, and a couple of girlfriends from college. But she could see now that a steady guy, a regular relationship, had its rewards.

  “You know, I’ve hardly thought of work at all,” Matt said, his tone as wistful as her thoughts.

  “That’s good, isn’t it? It’s your vacation, after all.”

  “I suppose. I do have a crucial project next week that I should spend some time on while I’m here.”

  “Really? Can I help?”

  His eyes shuttered away from her. “It’s management stuff.”

  It was probably the teams. “I’d be happy to be a sounding board. I’m a good listener.”

  “Thanks, but I’d better handle it on my own.”

  “Do you like being a manager?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, I did until the PQ2 came along.” He laughed, then sipped his wine. “The people stuff intimidates me, but I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “You’re helping me with that,” he said, looking at her.

  “I’m glad.” She held his gaze. And you can help me, she thought. Make me a team leader. It would be so easy to say it here at the shore, buzzed from wine, enjoying each other’s company, sharing their histories, peeking at each other’s
inner selves. Matt liked her, would want to help her. Why not just come right out with it?

  She opened her mouth to do it, except Matt’s expression suddenly turned earnest. “Candy, listen, I need to apologize again for doing what I did last night. It was very irresponsible of me to act on an attraction—no matter how strong—to a colleague, especially someone I supervise.”

  His paternal tone irked her. As if he were the adult and she were the child. “I was there, too, remember? It takes two.”

  “But the burden is greater for me because of my status.”

  “What? Are you talking about sexual harassment? Please. Like I said, I was there, too.”

  “And you behaved very professionally this morning, suggesting we forget what happened. Thank you.”

  At least he’d given her that much credit.

  “If what I did changed our work relationship—led to favoritism on my part or resentment on yours—I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “Don’t worry. It hasn’t changed anything,” she said. Except she felt an icy chill. She’d been ready to ask for the promotion, leaning on their new intimacy. What had she been thinking? She wanted the job on her own merits, not because Matt was hot for her or owed her a favor.

  This was bad. Or maybe it was a natural mistake. She didn’t know. She felt as if they’d thrown personal and professional into a blender and hit pulverize.

  She was confused and disoriented, as if they’d crossed an irreversible line, changed their relationship forever.

  She could not allow that. They had to move on, change the subject, get past this awkwardness.

  “So, what’s the proper attire for limbo?” Matt said, giving her a wry grin. He obviously wanted to change the subject, too.

  “Good question. I need to change bikinis for something with more give.”

  “More give?” He swallowed hard, looking at her body, then away.

  “Absolutely. And you should take off your shirt so it won’t snag on the bar.”

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Matt said, standing to remove his shirt.

  She couldn’t help staring at him, bare-chested and newly tanned. She wished she’d noticed more about his body when they’d been in bed together.