Swept Away

“So you think I’m uptight?” He seemed amused by the idea.

“Not uptight. Just restrained. Controlled.” Everything she wasn’t, but needed to learn how to be. Or at least how to appear to be when it counted.

Part of her rebelled at that. Take me as I am, dammit. Can’t you see I can be silly and brilliant?

But she knew that wasn’t easy to accept. She remembered when she’d told her family she’d left the ad agency to work for SyncUp. They looked at each other the same way. Not again.

They’d been polite and encouraging, but there was no mistaking their weariness. When will she grow up, figure it out, settle down?

They just didn’t get her. She had a plan and this promotion was key. She was building contacts, networking, getting experience. In five years or so, she would open up her own agency, maybe with a partner.

“You okay?” Matt had noticed her preoccupation.

“Sure. I’m fine.” She smiled, sorry she’d gotten distracted.

“So, you think all I have to do is slap Mickey Mouse ears on my head and people will buy SyncUp products from me?”

“Whatever works, Matt,” she said, smiling. “Actually, though, now that we’re talking about it, a camera is a great networking tool. Bring a camera to an event and everyone’s your friend. You have a good digital, I assume?”

“Not with me. I bought the new Canon EOS 350D, eight megapixel, an upgrade from the 300D. It’s got—”

“Forget the specs, Matt. Will it fit in your pocket?”

“I have a case for it.”

“The idea is to keep it with you at all times. When you’re at the convention, take photos and you have an excuse to exchange business cards so you can e-mail the snaps. Instant leads.”

He gazed at her, a smile tracing his lips. “You’re good.”

The words would have been a sexual come-on from any other guy. From Matt they were straight praise. She was chagrined to notice they aroused her anyway. She was tuned into him, hyperaware, probably from the long-ago crush, which seemed to be getting worse.

She stayed on task. “So, tomorrow night we’ll do this photo hunt.”

“What are we supposed to take pictures of?” He tugged the flyer closer. “Exactly what are ‘hot shots’?”

There were no specifics listed. “Sexy stuff, I’d guess. It’s the Sin on the Beach festival. Remember? Sights you’d see in a Girls Gone Wild commercial or, say, spring break in Florida. Anything goes.”

He seemed to chew that over, work it out like an equation to be solved for X. “So I’m supposed to talk women into taking off their clothes for me?”

“You’ll have no trouble.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. You’re a hot guy.” She shrugged.

“You think I’m hot?” He honed in on her.

“Absolutely.”

He shook his head, as if he thought she was being polite.

“I’m serious. You’re built. You’re good-looking.” She surveyed him. Sunlight flashed off his glasses. “You should ditch these, though.” She tugged them from his face, being playful, but was startled at how close his electric-blue eyes suddenly were. The moment was abruptly intimate, like being naked with someone for the first time, and she could hardly breathe.

“You have great eyes,” she said, lowering his glasses to her lap to hide the fact her fingers had started to shake.

“How am I supposed to see?”

“Get contacts.”

“Too much hassle. Little plastic floppy things.” He rubbed his fingers together, then shook them, as if to rid himself of the clingy objects. “I don’t know how you stand them.”

“How did you know I wear them?”

“They swim over your irises.”

“Oh. Well, then.” He’d watched her closely enough to catch that detail? Awareness tingled through her. “They’re a lot easier to use these days. You can wear them for a month, even at night. You really should try them.”

He just looked at her.

“Will you do it? Try contacts?”

“Maybe.” But he wouldn’t without a nudge, she could tell. Men just didn’t jump on stuff like that.

“Why don’t we get you some while we’re here? They’ll enhance your sociability.”

“You think?” His eyebrows dipped and his forehead crinkled, considering the idea.

“Sure. Glasses are barriers, creating distance between you and the other person. Without them you seem closer, warmer, more available.”

“Is that how you see me now? Closer? More available?”

Oh, yeah. She managed a simple nod. If he hadn’t made the question sound like a scientific inquiry, she would have attacked him right here on the couch.

They were alone, breathing in synch, inches apart, with Matt looking at her in the serious, steady way that always got to her. Attraction swelled like the waves surging onto the beach a few yards beyond his door.

She crossed her thighs against the ache she felt and strove for good sense. “While we’re at it, we should do something about your look.”

“My look?”

“You’re a hot software designer, Matt. You need an edge. A haircut, for one thing. And definitely new clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” He looked down at his blue oxford shirt and khaki shorts. “They’re clean. They match.”

“For one thing, this is not beachwear.” She let her eyes travel down his body. “You need a tank top.” She eyed his arms, envisioning bared shoulders, fanned deltoids. “A Hawaiian shirt, maybe—” she kept looking down “—and some board shorts.” She realized she was staring at his zipper, so she jerked up her eyes and met his curious gaze.

Embarrassed, she babbled on. “New business clothes, too. What you wear is too traditional. We can do it at the mall here. It’ll be kind of a makeover.”

“A makeover? You mean one of those Queer Eye-Straight Guy deals? No way am I shoving up my sleeves or layering.” He held up his hands in a stop gesture.