Swept Away

“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.