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.

She shrugged-your loss-then bounded back to her table, not wounded at all.

“You could have gone,” Candy said in case Matt was trying to be chivalrous. “I’d be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure you would be,” he said, “but we’re working, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?” He held her gaze, then seemed to catch himself and ducked down to take a long pull on his straw. “This tastes better and better.”

“Maybe you should give it a rest. Want some?” She tilted her club soda at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, waving her away, drinking deeply from the booze boat. “I feel more like slapping backs with every swallow. How many phone numbers should I get, coach?”

“We should make it interesting. Maybe a competition? See which of us can meet the most people?”

“You’re too good. You’ll win hands down.”

“I’ll give myself a handicap…say I get two for every one you get. How’s that?”

“Sounds fair. What are the stakes?”

“Let me think about that for a while.” She should come up with something they’d both want.

A roar rose as a woman was passed over the top of a group of guys, then lowered to the floor.

“It’s kind of crazy in here,” Matt said. “Maybe we should find another place.”

“You have to seize the moment. You never know where a contact will come from.” She watched five guys drop shots into beer mugs and guzzle them. Matt may have a point.

“Hey, lady. You, me, there!” Carter pointed at her, then him, then the dance floor.

She looked at Matt.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ve got this to finish.” He motioned at the Tsunami.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” she said, but Carter had led her too far away to be heard over the noise.

On the crowded dance floor, Carter rested his hands lightly on her hips for the slowish song. She looked over at Matt, who was sucking down his drink way too fast.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Carter asked.

“Huh?” She looked at him. “After this?”

“Yeah. After this.” He was clearly interested in spending more time with her, but with Matt around, she didn’t dare risk anything that might reinforce her party-girl image.

“Working,” she said sadly.

He looked at her questioningly.

“Really,” she said on a sigh. She glanced toward Matt just as a curvy brunette in a teensy bikini was leading him to the floor. That was a surprise.

When they were close enough, Matt leaned toward Candy. “I’ll be getting her number,” he said, sounding a bit boozy. The Tsunami seemed to have reached land.

He turned to his partner, who promptly wiggled down his body, freak style, then up again. Matt’s eyes went wide and he froze.

Candy almost burst out laughing. The girl turned her back, bent forward and rubbed her bottom in a deliberate circle against his crotch.

Matt looked at Candy over the woman’s bent body and shrugged, hands up.

“When in Rome!” she called to him. She could rescue him, but first she’d see how he handled this on his own.

W HAT THE HELL AM I supposed to do now? Matt wondered, as his partner rolled her ass around and around against his groin.

He would never have stepped onto the dance floor if Steroid Steve didn’t have his hands all over Candy. He didn’t want to look like a total loser sucking down a froufrou drink while she rocked the dance floor.

Now this girl was having mock sex with him in front of God and the entire bar. He didn’t even know her name, let alone her number. Thank God he was too shocked to be erect.

She didn’t seem to care what he did, moving around as though this was a dance with actual steps, though her feet stayed in place. Her hips and ass and breasts were doing all the work.

She was stylin’, moving her arms just so, her attention focused inward, oblivious to him. He was only a prop for her gyrations. Now she faced him, her leg between his, and slid down his body, as if he were a chrome pole.

Meanwhile, Candy, who could make him hard as stone by running her tongue across her lips, was laughing at him. She thought a strange woman humping him was hilarious.

Actually, it was pretty funny.

In a few seconds, Candy danced Carter over and arranged a partner trade. The muscle-bound Carter appeared happy to grind away with Matt’s partner, who didn’t mind the switch either, it seemed. Whatever spun your hard drive, he guessed.

Speaking of which, Candy was now inches away from him, swaying her tight body to the music. She grinned up at him. “You should have seen your face. You looked paralyzed.”

“I thought she’d start on my zipper any second.”

“Would that have been so bad?” she asked, teasing him, her eyes brimming with laughter. “What happens in Malibu, stays in Malibu, remember?”

A much slower song began, so, of course, he had to put his arms around her. She rested her palms lightly on his shoulders, keeping her lower body a discreet distance away.

He was glad, since he was mortifyingly erect. Around Candy, he felt sixteen and defenseless against his parts.

The crowd shifted abruptly and someone knocked Candy into him. Now she would feel his…yep. Her face told him she’d noticed his hard-on.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t apologize,” she said shakily. “You had a woman rubbing on you. Of course you’re going to-”

“It wasn’t her,” he said, holding her gaze, letting her see the truth, something he’d never have done if he’d been thinking straight. But Candy and the Tsunami for Two had addled his brain.

“Oh.” Candy took that in, exhaled, and seemed to melt even closer to him. They stayed that way, bodies pressed together, pretending the crowd had forced them into such close contact.

He rested his hands on the curves of her swaying hips, pressing lightly with his fingers, keeping his groin against hers. The laundry-list of liquors in that zippy blue boat he’d just guzzled rushed along his bloodstream, relaxing him into this cheat. Dancing was a legitimate reason to hold her close. And she felt so good to him.

Maybe it wasn’t booze, just testosterone-the flood brought on by Candy-that washed away all his good sense.

They looked at each other, bodies tight together, her breasts pressed into his chest, pelvis-to-groin, moving in effortless rhythm.

“How are you doing?” Candy asked.

“Better now,” he said. Holding you. He wanted to slide his hands down to her ass, grip her hard and kiss her mindless.

“You look dazed,” she said, smiling.

He was dazed. By her and how much he wanted her. That seemed lame, so he said, “I guess I am. This place is not my scene.” Around them drunks bellowed, hooted and poured beer on each other. Women were dancing on the bar. A few danced on tables, one girl in just a bra and panties. “I’m glad I’ve got an experienced guide.”

Her eyes went dark, as if he’d insulted her. “As your guide, I suggest you pace yourself on that Tsunami.”

“Too late. I polished it off.” And he was feeling it, too.