Swept Away

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Swept Away Page 19

by Dawn Atkins


  She’d just walked Carter to the door and told him good-bye, when Sara came downstairs lugging her suitcase. It turned out she and Drew had quarreled—was last night bust-up night or what?—and she was ready to run home and bail out Uncle Spence with some crisis or other. Candy and Ellie managed to talk her into staying for the surf competition, at least.

  Eventually, Candy was on her own again. She was headed for Sara’s computer when there was a bang at the door.

  She opened it to find Radar looking eagerly up at her, ready to play. “Sorry, guy. Better find Carter.”

  The dog didn’t move.

  “Don’t you give up? I have to work.” In fact, she looked forward to it. She intended to finish what she’d started, even if she left SyncUp because of the Matt fiasco. The one good thing about this trip was that she’d realized she was more capable than she’d thought she was.

  For all her sorrow, this cheered her a little.

  “Can’t you tell I’m a new girl?” she asked the dog.

  But Radar just whined. He’d played with her before and that was all he needed to know.

  The truth hit her like a Frisbee in the forehead. People’s perceptions of you had to do with them, too, not just you. To Radar, Candy was a playmate. At SyncUp, people saw her as a jokester. That wouldn’t change, even if she did show more maturity and self-discipline. They wouldn’t notice the subtle improvements she’d made in herself.

  What about her family?

  She pictured the Thanksgiving scene she’d envisioned—the beautiful table, gleaming crystal, festive china, the dense aromas swirling in the air—roast turkey, pumpkin spice, sage dressing. Her father carving the bird. Everyone laughing, drinking wine and making the usual jokes about the time their father burned the bird or when Candy made a rubber-band shooter out of the wishbone.

  She would ding her glass with her fork, to start the gratitude circle, the fine crystal ringing so crisply her ears would sting. “I’d like to start,” she would say, “since I have something special to be thankful for this year.”

  “What? You didn’t bounce a check all year? You bought shares in Jose Cuervo?”

  She’d fight down the laughter. “Nothing like that. I got a promotion. I’m the head of a product team. A manager.”

  There would be a happy outcry and congratulations, but it would be the equivalent of “That’s nice, dear.”

  They’d go back to talking about big legal deals, politics at the firm, the plans to expand her parents’ factory. And they’d smile at her as though she were their darling little girl.

  Still.

  That’s who she was to them. Over time, they’d accept the changes in her, but it would be incremental. One promotion wouldn’t alter a lifetime of experiences and expectations.

  No, her family wouldn’t be nearly as impressed as she wanted them to be.

  The person she needed to impress was herself. The question was how she saw herself and her abilities.

  She was proud of herself. She was good at what she did. She was creative and innovative and good with people and a hell of a lot of fun.

  Matt had said she’d be bored as a product manager. He might be right. She would hate the meetings, for sure. And cracking the whip? Forget it. He was correct that she’d have trouble getting staff to take her seriously because of all the joking around she did—maybe she didn’t want them to.

  She liked who she was. She didn’t need to be a manager to be successful. But she wanted something more, some advancement. What about owning her own agency? The idea had come up a couple of times on the trip. Sara and Ellie had talked about it. Claudia and her business group had tried to hire her. She’d planned to do that eventually. Why not now? Or soon, anyway?

  She might even get SyncUp as a client. She knew Scott hired outside consultants from time to time. Hell, she’d be better than the last guy they used. If Matt had meant what he’d said about wanting her for all his teams. Of course he did. The man was as honest as sunrise.

  Her head began to throb, but in a good way this time. She’d wasted time trying to be someone she wasn’t. She was a girl who mixed work and play. And there was nothing wrong with that. The relief made her whole body feel shot through with light.

  And she owed it, in part, to Matt. Painful as it was, he’d helped her see her strengths. He knew her.

  For all their differences, he got her. She felt appreciated, accepted, valued by him for all she was, not all she thought she should be.

  That was important and her eyes filled with tears of gratitude. She would thank him. But first she would sketch out some ideas for her new agency. What would she call it?

  Candy Can? Calder Creative? Yeah, that sounded very good.

  The idea made her smile and filled her with fire. She’d have something to report at Thanksgiving, after all. Even if all she got was a pat on her head for it, she’d know the truth. Candy Calder was going places.

  15

  MATT SAT AT HIS computer staring at his favorite tech e-zine, not caring one whit about malevolent bots or the latest on data farming.

  He’d written out a possible team chart, but he kept worrying about where Candy would fit best and what if she quit?

  He balled up the chart and tossed it across the room into his upside-down ball cap. Two points! Candy would make up rules for this, turn it into an office event.

  She made everything fun. They needed her at SyncUp, for morale reasons if nothing else. If this thing between them chased her away, he’d never forgive himself.

  He heard a sound on his porch and went to the door. There was Radar with that Frisbee of his. The dog nosed his way inside and galloped from room to room, carrying the Frisbee, searching for something. Or someone. When he returned, his doggie face held an obvious question: Where’s Candy?

  “She’s not here, pal, but I’ll play.” He reached for the Frisbee, but the dog backed off, disappointed, then turned and trotted away.

  He knew exactly how the dog felt. Candy opened all the windows and doors and let the sun in. She’d helped him see what he’d been missing.

  He needed her in his life, dammit. If she would have him. He’d have to figure out how to make things right for her at SyncUp. He could quit, like he’d thought earlier. SyncUp was a great company and he’d made VP, but he’d moved before. To keep Candy in his life, he’d do anything.

  Anything.

  That realization made something shift inside him. He’d changed. He’d always done what was sensible, conservative, expected. What had Candy asked him: Did he act out of obligation or joy? He’d never thought about it before. He considered joy a luxury, beginning as a kid when he’d had to take care of his mother and sister. That was years ago and his family was fine. He had no further obligation to them.

  He could do what gave him joy. And being with Candy did that. In spades. What a gift it was to have one person mean everything to him. One person whose laughter made his heart light, his life sweet.

  One woman he wanted to help and be helped by. She got him out of his head, shook him out of the dull grind of every day that he found so comforting, but which also closed him away from new ideas and experiences. Adventures.

  He needed Candy in his life.

  And he could only hope that Candy needed him, too. There was only one way to find out.

  A SMALL THUD AGAINST the screen door made Candy look up. Her neck ached and her bottom was numb from sitting at the computer so long. She’d been sketching out a business plan for Calder Creative and hadn’t noticed the time going by. Nothing was more enthralling than planning your future, it seemed. It would take months to enact the change, she knew, but each moment that passed made her more sure this was the right thing to do.

  She couldn’t wait to talk to Matt about it. She hoped he’d be interested in hiring her as a consultant.

  More importantly, she hoped he’d still want to be with her. Once she’d figured out what she wanted for her career, once she’d separated the promotion disappointm
ent from her feelings for Matt, she realized she wanted to be with him. She wanted to be a couple, to give their feelings a chance to grow.

  She thought they could help each other. He would be her safe haven and she would make sure he didn’t miss life’s little side trips.

  At the door, she found Radar nudging the screen to get her attention. When he saw her, he wagged his whole body.

  “You think it’s time for a break, huh?” She smiled. She had been sitting still too long and she was at the beach, after all.

  On the porch, her cell phone rang. She had it in her pocket, expecting a call back from SyncUp over a question she’d had. She dug it out of her capris, but, just like the first day, it slid from her fingers to the porch.

  Radar nabbed it and ran off.

  “Wait!” she said, then ran after him toward the water, where she noticed a man stood, bare-chested, waves foaming at his feet, a phone at his ear.

  It was Matt. He wore his new swim trunks and his old glasses. Radar galloped up to him, her phone in his mouth, as if Matt had asked him to fetch it.

  Candy’s heart lifted and she laughed and joined them. “Radar grabbed my phone again,” she said.

  “I see that.” He looked down at the dog, who was backing away, teasing them into another game of keep-away.

  “It’s me calling.” He pointed at his phone, then closed it and shoved it into the flapped pocket of his trunks. “I wanted to know if you could come out and play with me.” He smiled his wry half-smile.

  “I’d love to,” she said, her heart filling up and spilling over.

  “I mean for the rest of our lives,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. His eyes shone at her, blue and clear as the Malibu sky, the glasses no barrier at all.

  She felt tears spring to her eyes. “I’d love to try that.” More than anything she’d ever wanted in her life.

  “I’m glad. I have so much to say. I don’t know where to begin.”

  “How about with getting my phone before Radar chews it up?” She lunged for the dog, who feinted joyfully to the left.

  They were soon playing the phone game again with Radar, laughing and lunging, missing and falling until finally, Candy tackled Radar and Matt pried away the phone.

  They both lay on the sand.

  Radar raced away, as if he’d achieved his goal.

  Maybe he had.

  They sat up and Matt brushed sand from her cheek.

  “I’m always a mess around you,” she said.

  “You’re always perfect around me. Whether you’ve got margarita on your chin, sand on your cheek or whipped cream on your nose. Whether you’re grinning at me or giving me hell. You’re just what I need. Playful and smart and stubborn and fierce. However you are, that’s fine with me.”

  “You’re what I need, too, Matt. I like that you’re steady, that you make me feel secure and safe. I like how you focus and how serious you are.”

  “I can be boring, I’ll warn you.”

  “We’ll work on that,” she teased. “Shake things up a little. Within reason.”

  “I can deal with that.”

  “I love that you get me. In some ways better than I get myself. You were right that being a team leader isn’t for me.”

  “Really? You agree?”

  “I was hurt at first. The promotion seemed like proof that I was a success, that you respected me.”

  “I do respect you. You’re amazing. You could do anything you set your mind to, but—”

  “But if it makes me miserable, what’s the point? That’s what I need from you—to be my reality check.”

  “And I need you to get me out of my rut, make me look up.”

  “And see the parasail? Yeah. I think we can be good for each other.” She was so happy she thought her heart might burst.

  “We have to deal with SyncUp.” Matt took on his cut-to-the-chase look. “Being your boss would be tricky, so the best thing will be for me to resign. As soon as it’s feasible.”

  “You can’t resign. You just made VP.” She was so touched. The man was ready to toss his carefully constructed career plan out of love for her. “I’m going to quit.”

  “You can’t quit. SyncUp needs you, Candy.”

  “It can have me. As a consultant. How’s that? I think I want to start my own agency. It’s been in the back of my mind for down the line, but why not now? Or in the next year anyway. I have the skills and the drive. It’s the right next step, I think. I’ve already worked up some ideas.”

  “Are you sure?” He studied her. “Because I’d love to have you as a consultant. That way you could work with all the teams. Depending on our budget, of course.”

  She smiled. “Sure. I’d like your thoughts on my rates, too. I’ve got some ideas drafted. Come and see.” She started to get up, but Matt caught her hand and tugged her onto his lap. “You and your working vacation. Could you hold off a bit? I’m going to have to teach you how to relax.”

  She laughed and wrapped her arms around him and tilted her face for a kiss. Her cheek bumped his glasses, so she pulled them off. “These are a pain.” She studied them, then looked at him. “So the makeover was a bust?”

  “Not entirely. I like my glasses. And forget hair gel. But some of the changes were good. I sang karaoke, did the limbo, drank too much blue liqueur and, hell, was freak danced upon. That was all good. I needed that.”

  “So you’re Matt, version 1.5, instead of 2.0?”

  “Exactly,” he said, standing and reaching to lift her into his arms.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Mmm. I need a few more networking tips, don’t you think?” He started toward his beach house, carrying her tight against his chest.

  Radar woofed, running up to them.

  “Check with us later, pal,” Matt said. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  Candy smiled down at the eager retriever. “We need a dog, don’t you think? To remind us to come out and play?”

  “I think all we need is each other.”

  She realized he was right. They’d been made over by love, seeing each other with new eyes, learning from each other and teaching each other, too.

  Right now, she couldn’t wait to get naked and let the lessons begin.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-0527-1

  SWEPT AWAY

  Copyright © 2007 by Daphne Atkeson.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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