by Dawn Atkins
Candy had to get out of here and fast. She was definitely feeling like a third wheel on this bicycle. “I’ll let you two catch up,” she said. “Looks like they’re seating people.” She started away toward the tables.
“We can all sit together,” Matt called to her.
“No, no. I’m fine.” She grinned inanely, her heart a ball of agony in her chest. They looked so good standing there together. Jane was tall enough to look Matt eye-to-eye, whereas Candy was way too short for him.
Of course that wasn’t what mattered in a couple—whether or not their heights matched. What mattered was what they had in common, which, for Matt and Jane, was just about everything, she’d bet. Candy could picture them Sunday mornings, laptops side-by-side, catching up on e-mail on their pillow-lush canopy bed in some fabulous suburban McMansion.
Not that she had anything against big houses or fancy beds. Her brothers and parents were well-off and she wanted that, too. She was being childishly jealous, mostly of the familiarity between Matt and Jane—the shared jokes, the old teases, the long history, the affection.
She wanted that. A history with someone. Spending all this time with Matt had showed her that. She vowed right now to find some fun-loving guy who wanted to settle in with her in a way that was comfortable, but still lively. Stable, but full of surprises. Someone she could count on, someone strong enough to handle the occasional shakeup. Yeah.
She took a seat at a faraway table full of chatting women, but she couldn’t help glancing at Matt and Jane, engrossed in conversation, laughing together, leaning in to each other.
This was excellent in the long run. Really. An extra bonus. Her makeover had been so successful that Matt’s ex-girlfriend wanted him back. Candy was good. Just as Matt had said.
She swallowed down her envy, ignored the hollow feeling inside and introduced herself to the woman next to her. She would talk about Ledger Lite Personal, dammit. She could work as hard as she played. Even when her heart was a fist-sized lump rattling in her empty, aching chest. No way would she lock herself into a stall in the ladies’ room and bawl her eyes out.
MATT HELD JANE’S CHAIR for her, but he kept his eye on Candy, who seemed to be doing fine. She’d said something to make the woman next to her laugh. Two other women were leaning across the table to get in on the fun, too. She was okay.
Candy could handle herself. She’d smoothed over his fumbling remarks when they ran into Jane, making what they were doing sound perfectly reasonable, then left him with Jane. She probably saw it as a good deed.
She’d left emotionally, too. Slipped away, quick as a darting fish he couldn’t quite catch, no matter how close it seemed or how tight his fingers gripped it. A shiver and it zipped out of reach.
“You can sit now, Matt,” Jane said, smiling back at him where he stood watching Candy.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, then sat beside her.
Jane had accepted the idea of him and Candy working together on vacation. Hell, she’d asked him to dinner right in front of Candy.
In fact, Candy, no doubt, believed they were getting back together this very moment. If he wanted to end the affair with her, this would do the trick. He remembered what Magellan had said, that he’d let Candy believe a falsehood for her own good. Here was his chance to make the lie stick.
Except what had Mr. All Knowing added? The truth shall set you free. Maybe so. He certainly had no interest in lying. Not to Candy. Not to Jane. And not to himself.
Their table mates were all talking and Jane bent close, speaking intimately to him. “I like the new you, Matt. A lot.”
“So I guess I no longer need fun to throw me a surprise party?”
Jane grimaced. “That was out of line, I know. If it makes you feel better, my therapist suggested I apologize. I am sorry, Matt. I blamed you for my own frustration, my own ennui. I made you the symbol of my being stuck.”
He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the psychobabble. “You had a point, though. I have been working too hard. This vacation has opened my eyes.”
“That’s good. Very good.” She studied him. “Sometimes a breather is all people need. A fresh perspective.” She held his gaze, offering him another chance.
They could go back to how they’d been—carefully planned weekend excursions, evenings that didn’t interfere with work. Sex in its place. Sex with Jane had been perfectly fine.
But it hadn’t been wild or unpredictable or overwhelming. It hadn’t left him breathless and aching, as with Candy.
It also wouldn’t leave him heartbroken, angry and devastated, which, he’d bet, was how things would end with Candy.
Jane shared his values. She fit his formula. She would be a fine life companion, a comfortable habit.
But love was more than a routine you got into. Candy was right about that. She’d made him want more.
The debate was irrelevant, really. If Jane had been the most scintillating woman in the world—his soul mate, if that was possible—it wouldn’t have changed a thing.
He was in love with Candy. Whether she offered a comfortable routine or an uncontrollable roller coaster, she was the woman he loved. There was no room for anyone else.
He’d lost his heart to a woman he couldn’t possibly have.
There was nothing to be done about that now, except he had to clear the air with Jane. A straight line to the truth was best. “You were right to break up with me, Jane. I think we’re too much alike to be good for each other.”
Her face stilled. She was startled by his words, but she managed a gracious smile. “But that’s a positive indicator, don’t you think? Being alike?”
“Not if you end up in a rut together.”
She studied him. “We had some inertia to deal with, but…”
“Maybe we both needed to get shaken up a bit.”
“You don’t want to try again then?” Anger and hurt were sharp undertones to her flat question.
He shook his head, then put his hand over hers. “You’re a wonderful person, Jane, and I wish you the very best. You deserve a guy who’ll ballroom dance with you, not one you have to drag from his computer for a movie.”
Jane’s lip trembled and her eyes filled. He would hug her, but he knew she would hate that. Jane had a lot of dignity. He sat with her, holding her hand, waiting to see what she needed to do—yell at him, insult him, even throw water in his face.
But abruptly, she seemed to get control. Her eyes cleared, her shoulders dropped and she managed a quick smile. “You’re not one to soften the blow, are you? No easing into it for Matt Rockwell.” She shook her head, as if she was laughing at herself. “Actually, I always liked that about you.”
She took her hand from him, adjusted her napkin, drank some water and, when she looked back at him, she was completely composed. “You’re right, of course,” she said steadily. “I knew we were never on fire for each other. And I want that. I do.”
“You deserve that.”
Her smile twisted. “It’s no fun to be alone. Seeing you here, I thought maybe we had enough to make it work. But we would be…settling. That’s true.” Her lip wobbled again and she reached for her water.
To give her space, Matt looked away. His gaze snagged on Candy and held.
When he looked back at Jane, she’d followed his line of sight. “You’re worried about her? She’s chattering away just fine. We have a paralegal like that. Never stops talking.” She made her hand into a yakking puppet. “Terminally bubbly.”
Anger spiked at her easy dismissal of Candy. Too many people mistook her surface liveliness for superficiality. “People underestimate Candy. She’s smart and funny—and wise, too. You have to give her time to show you.”
Jane took in a sharp breath. Her face changed, went still and cold, as if sheeted in ice. “Ah. I see.” She fiddled angrily with a tablespoon, making it clunk again and again against the linen cloth. “I don’t get it, but I see. So, she makes you happy? Is that it? Keeps you out of a rut?” Her voice c
racked.
“She and I work together, Jane. It’s impossible.” And it wasn’t only work. Candy would exhaust, annoy and eventually infuriate him. Sooner rather than later. And once Fun Guy packed up his vacation duffel, the old Matt would bore the hell out of Candy. They were a dead end for certain.
“Whatever,” Jane said dismissively. She grabbed a roll and buttered it, fiercely at first. Her movements slowed, she set down her butter knife with a click and looked at him. “It doesn’t matter, I know. You and I are done. If you find someone else, good for you.” She looked over at Candy, again, as if the possibility of Matt and Candy puzzled her.
“Candy and I work together. We couldn’t ever—”
“Whatever!” She cut one hand in a stop-arguing gesture, then sighed. “If it weren’t for these damnable social events, I wouldn’t mind being alone at all.”
“I understand.” He was impressed with her ability to rise above her emotions, to analyze and conquer them so smoothly. “Listen, Jane. About the bar dinner. I’d be honored to accompany you. And I’ll pay for the tux myself.”
“If I don’t snag a date, I might take you up on that. I’ve got feelers out, though, so no worries. I don’t waste time.” She grabbed his hand. “You’re a good person, Matt. In my nobler moments, I want the best for you, too.”
They smiled at each other. He realized they’d broken up for good with no fuss at all. He felt relieved and he was sure Jane did, too.
What did it say about him that he could be involved with a woman for nearly a year without any more angst than a mild argument? Come to think of it, he’d always avoided strong feelings. His relationship with Heather had been an anomaly.
Was it because of how devastated his mother had been when their father left? She’d always been highly strung and vulnerable, but after that she seemed to crumble. Matt had had to be strong for her and Ellie.
Those terrible first months he’d handled the tasks that befuddled his mother—the wonky thermostat, the failing Pathfinder, the bills that piled up. She’d slept so much that Matt cooked meals, got groceries, cared for Ellie—quizzed her on spelling words, made sure she brushed her teeth and bathed. He’d read her bedtime stories and reassured her when she stood outside their mother’s locked door, needing a mother’s comfort.
It was then that he’d strengthened the habit of controlling his emotions, of keeping his head down to focus on the task at hand. He’d valued what made sense and avoided what didn’t—like the human heart.
His mother never really returned to normal, although she managed to make ends meet with a bookkeeping job, which meant he’d remained watchful and careful, slow to get involved, always holding back.
It wasn’t just the trauma of his father’s departure, though. It was how he was. It had felt right to be that way. As he’d told Candy, that was how he was wired.
But now he’d met Candy and his barriers were dissolving, his natural need for distance melting away. This alarmed him, but he was a realist and couldn’t ignore it.
Should he talk to Candy? Take this chance? But how could he? The situation seemed impossible. Even if he wasn’t her boss, they were as different as he and Jane were alike.
What should he do? He felt twisted into knots, his head ready to burst, his lungs so tight every breath burned. He felt as though he’d been slammed by a huge wave, tossed into a cloud of sand and sea until he didn’t know which direction to swim for air. If this was love, maybe he was better off without it.
13
KNOWING IT WOULD BE a mistake, Candy stole a glance at the table where Matt and Jane sat. Sure enough, Jane was leaning in to speak in Matt’s ear. His arm was across the back of her chair and he seemed completely at ease with her.
An old, old song started up in Candy’s head. Smile, though your heart is breaking. The lyrics promised that if you did that—smiled through heartbreak—the sun would shine through.
Yeah, right. She felt like a big old rain cloud about to unload fat drops all over the linen cloth.
This was why she never got serious with anyone. This terrible hole in her heart. This bottomless ache. She’d been smart enough to avoid it for twenty-nine years. Maybe being so indulged as a child meant she’d had no practice in disappointment, but she’d stayed clear of it anyway. She didn’t need to touch the red coil to know the stove would burn her.
This was good, what had happened. Matt and Jane were back together—they even had a date. And all thanks to Candy. She’d done the right thing. She should be proud.
Except she felt utterly bereft. It was so like her to get hooked on someone she couldn’t have—and didn’t really want. She wanted it all, spoiled child that she was. As with Brad, she wanted him to ask her to marry him, even though she’d have said no. She was doing it again, dammit.
Just when she feared she’d embarrass herself by bursting into tears in the middle of the conversation, the dessert mousse arrived and the program commenced, giving her time to regroup, listen and soothe herself with chocolate.
No point bitching about the pain. Suck it up and move on. Jane’s appearance was fate’s tap on the shoulder. Hey, you. Remember who you are and why you’re here.
She did. She remembered. And she would push forward. She’d go back to her place, finalize the marketing plan and when Matt praised her, she’d bring up the promotion. It was time. She’d fulfilled her side of their deal—given Matt a makeover, taught him networking, even repaired his love life.
Talk about a bonus! She always went the extra mile. Wasn’t that what team leaders did?
Right.
The good news was that now that Matt and Jane had reconciled, Candy had no more worries about how she and Matt would end this. It was over and done.
Her plan in place, Candy found the program interminable. There seemed to be an honoree at every table. By the time the stack of plaques was down to a few, she’d eaten two untouched desserts and had three decaf refills.
Jane was as classy in her acceptance remarks as she’d seemed when Candy met her. Candy kept her eyes trained away from where Matt sat—no doubt watching Jane—afraid if she caught his adoring expression, she’d burst into jealous tears.
Eventually the last polite applause filled the room. Finally released, Candy barreled for the doors instead of pausing to reinforce her rapport with potential clients as she would normally do in networking mode. She’d grabbed plenty of cards before disaster struck. She managed to catch Matt’s eye and pointed toward the parking lot, so he’d meet her at the car.
Grateful to be outside, she sucked in smoggy air and fought the tumult inside. Get a grip. He was never yours. They’d had an affair. Don’t cling. Let go. She only wished she’d known their final lovemaking had been the last, so she could have memorized every touch. It was like wolfing down the last Cheeto before you realized the bag was empty. You wanted to savor the final lovely morsel.
The good news, though, was that she was anxious to get back to work. She’d learned that much about herself. She could work when it mattered. She was not just a party girl.
She watched Matt wend his way to their car, his expression anxious. When he reached her, he asked, “Are you ill? I saw you run out.”
“Just anxious to go,” she said with a fake smile, ducking into the car to avoid him.
Matt sat in the driver’s seat. “There was room at the table,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean for you to leave.”
“It was much better, Matt, and you know it. Jane liked the new you, which is great. Isn’t it?” He seemed too quiet.
“Nothing changed between Jane and me,” he said after a pause. He sounded weary and troubled. Maybe out of guilt?
“Give it time,” she said, glancing at him. “You got a start at it. I probably cramped your style.”
“It’s not like that, Candy. It won’t ever be.” He hesitated, as though he had something more to say, then looked out the windshield.
“Let’s head back,” she said, nodding forward. “I want to f
inish my marketing plan so I can show it to you.”
She felt him staring at her. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to say, Matt. I get it.”
“No, you don’t. That’s the point. We—”
“Let’s just go!” she said with clenched teeth, wringing the burgundy napkin that in her haste she’d taken with her. She’d twisted it so tightly it hurt her fingers. Unshed tears made her nose burn.
“We need to talk about us, about what we’re going to do.”
His cell phone rang, interrupting him. He fumbled for it, reading the display. “Scott,” he muttered.
“Take it,” she said, grateful for the reprieve.
“Hi, Scott. What’s up?” Matt said tightly. “Yeah? Where are we on the reorg? Uh…” He paused, glanced at her, then out the side window. He couldn’t talk to Scott freely with her in the car. “Not too far.” He cleared his throat. “I’m on vacation, remember? Use it or lose it?” he said in a falsely hearty voice. He paused, listening, then spoke again, his tone serious.
“I’ll get on that…um, plan…when I get back…. Sunday? Not Sunday. Sunday’s a day of rest.” He laughed. “Be careful what you wish for, Scott. I’m addressing my PQ2 weaknesses, which means I’m taking it easier. I won’t be in the office 24-7 anymore.”
He winked at Candy, telling her he’d learned from her. “Unintended consequences, I guess.” He looked at her again, his expression full of gratitude and affection. Then she saw an idea dawn on him. He held up a finger to her.
“Scott, one thing. What do you think about a consumer version of Ledger Lite? We’d market it to our Paycheck Plus customers?” He listened, then turned to nod at her, indicating Scott’s interest.
“It’s Candy Calder’s idea,” he said quickly. “I was talking to her and—” He stopped cold. “Uh—before I left. We ran into each other…” He swallowed hard, panicked and jerked his gaze out front again. It must have dawned on him he didn’t dare let Scott know they were together on vacation.
“So, she’s, uh, putting together a plan…. Sure, sure…I’ll tell her—when I get back, of course. At the next meeting.” His face was bright red and he sounded guilty as hell.
