LITMIR.BIZ

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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.”

      “Okay, so…I’m your colleague calling with the stats you needed. Seventy-five percent, three point two, two to one ratio…blah, blah, et cetera, et cetera.”

      With Matt staring at her it was tough to fake a business tone, but Candy did her best. “Thanks much. I’ll grab that e-mail ASAP. Great.” She clicked off and slid the phone into her pocket. “Some numbers I need. Can I download e-mail inside your place? Maybe show you my ideas while I’m at it?”

      “I guess. Sure.” He looked baffled by the suggestion, but he headed toward the porch, where Ellie beamed down at them. You look so cute together.

      “We’re going to work now,” Candy said, telling Ellie with her eyes it was time to scoot.

      “Sure. I’ll just check Matt’s supplies and then you can get to it.”

      “My sister, the mother hen,” Matt said, sounding affectionately exasperated. He winked at Candy and it went right through her like sexy lightning. Oh, she was weak.

      “I have food,” he called to Ellie, following her inside, where she flung open cupboards and yanked open the fridge, clucking like the hen Matt had compared her to.

      “HoHos, Cheetos, Dr. Pepper and beer? You call that food?”

      “Sounds good to me,” Candy said with a shrug. More than once she and Matt had vied for the last sack of Cheetos or package of HoHos in the SyncUp snack machines. They shared junk food preferences if nothing else.

      “Did you remember sunscreen?” Ellie asked, hands on hips. When Matt shrugged, she sighed. “I’ll pick up some. Along with some healthy food.”

      “I can feed myself, Ellie.” He paused. “There’s no point arguing, is there?”

      “Not really, no.”

      “Do what you must then.” He sighed, but he was smiling. Obviously, Matt had plenty of experience with his sister’s nurturing ways. Candy liked the rapport between them.

      Setting her ancient laptop beside Matt’s razor-thin model already open to e-mail, Candy noticed the neat spread of folders beside it, proving that Matt was a master at working vacations. He was already at it and they’d all barely arrived.

      “But what about entertaining yourself?” Ellie said. “You’re not going to sit here all week at the computer. You work too hard. Both of you. Especially you, Candy.”

      Liar, liar, pants on fire. But Candy loved Ellie for overacting on her behalf.

      Ellie snatched a flyer from behind a magnet on the refrigerator and carried it to where Candy and Matt stood at the table. “Look at all these Sin on the Beach festival events.” She handed Matt the flyer and lowered her voice. “No moping now. There are other fish in the sea.” She was obviously referring to the breakup with Ice Princess Jane.

      “I’ll be fine, Ellie,” Matt said. “Don’t worry about me.”

      “Then I guess my work here is done.” Ellie gave a pointed look at Candy, then hip-swayed to the door. Because Matt had moved to the kitchen, Candy was able to shoot her a quick thumbs-up as she left.

      “Can I get you something to drink?” he called from the open refrigerator. “A beer?”

      “Water is fine, since I’m working and all.” Was that overkill? Maybe. She sighed.

      She couldn’t help thinking how great it would be to just kick back in this cozy bungalow with a beer and Matt and those blue-sky eyes of his. But that was the old Candy. The new one had a vital task to achieve.

      She shifted her laptop and it knocked one of Matt’s files to the floor, fanning paper across the white tiles.

      The first doc she retrieved was a PQ2 report with Matt’s name on a label at the top. Also attached to it was a pink Post-It note in the bold script of their CEO, Scott Bayer. See me re: changes!

      Matt arrived with her glass of water and his beer.

      She handed him the report form. “You took the PQ2?”

      “Scott required all the managers to take it.”

      “What changes is he talking about? In the test?”

      Matt gave a humorless laugh. “No. In the managers. He wants us to address the weaknesses the test revealed.”

      “What weaknesses could you possibly have?” she teased.

      “Exactly.” He grinned his great half smile. “According to the PQ2, I’m low on sociability.” He sat next to her. “Do I strike you as antisocial, Candy?”

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