“Her spine’s made of whatever Gumby is,” Ellie declared.

“They make it look easy,” Sara said with a sigh.

“They make it look fake,” Candy said. There was no emotion, no energy, no heat. Nothing like the incredible melting desire she’d felt in Matt’s arms.

“Hey…” Sara said. Candy glanced over to find Sara staring at her. “What’s up with you? You’re all pink and glowing.”

“It’s just the sunburn.” Candy was no poker player, so she deflected the conversation. “What time’s the audition, El?”

“Gak! The crack of dawn. Seven o’clock. Can you believe that? I’ll sleep through, no doubt. When I’m not at the coffee bar, I’m never up before noon.”

“I’ll get you up, no problem,” Sara said.

“Courtesy of an Uncle Spence call?” Candy asked.

Sara shrugged. She obviously hadn’t made much headway in her plan to run free of her demanding uncle.

“I doubt I’ll make the cut,” Ellie said. “Goth is not a beach-babe look.”

“Oh, but we can fix that, can’t we, Sara?” Candy climbed onto the bed and looked Ellie over. “Maybe soften your contrasts. Let’s see…” She fingered Ellie’s black curls. “We could straighten your hair…give it sun streaks.”

“Are you crazy?” Ellie grabbed both sides of her hair.

“Only temporarily, of course,” Candy said, winking at Sara. “We wouldn’t want the Queen of the Damned to look too cheerful.”

“There’s Walgreens up the way for the color and straightener,” Sara said. “And we can use my makeup. Pastel shadow to bring out your eyes. Bronzer so you’re not so pale.”

“Then all you need is the right bikini,” Candy said, getting into the makeover idea. Matt tomorrow and Ellie tonight.

“How about my black one?” Sara said. “It’s cut high.”

“Perfect. Absolutely sinful.”

“This is too much fuss over me,” Ellie said.

“It’s about time,” Candy said. “This vacation is about breaking out of old patterns. You’re always doing things for us. Let us return the favor.”

“Exactly,” Sara said, wiping a cherry drip from a flyer on the coffee table. It was the same puce as the one at Matt’s place. “And look at this. There’s a contest as part of the festival.” She held the flyer so they could read. “You get points for events. The grand prize is a month-long time-share at a beach condo here for ten years.”

“So that’s what the vouchers were for,” Candy said. “Matt and I got five hundred points for the karaoke win and another two hundred for the volleyball game.”

“I think there was something about getting festival points for auditioning,” Ellie mused. “Double if you get a part.”

“That’s great,” Sara said. “It says you can work as a team. Candy, you and Matt gave us a head start with your wins. The finalists submit an essay about why they deserve the condo.”

“Candy can write that,” Ellie said.

“Three good friends who need to escape from their lives for one week each year? Hell, it’ll write itself.” Candy grinned.

“We should divvy up events to maximize points,” Sara said.

“Great idea. I can make this part of my deal with Matt. We’re already doing the photo shoot.”

“I’ll build a spreadsheet so we can be strategic.” Sara wore her efficiency-mode expression.

“Not if this means more work for you,” Candy said.

“This isn’t work. This is fun.” Sara beamed. “If we win, we’ll have a fabulous condo together every summer.”

The girls high-fived each other.

“Let’s hit the drugstore for Ellie’s hair stuff,” Sara said, jumping up.

This would be a blast, Candy thought, starting to get up. Then she caught sight of Matt’s computer. She’d sworn to get organized for tomorrow. She would choose long-term gain over short-term fun. “You two go ahead. I have to work.”

Her friends gawked at her.

“I’m going to his place early. I’ve got to prepare.” She spoke sternly. After a long, shocked silence, her friends accepted her decision and left without her.

At least they hadn’t laughed.

She almost went after them and bought beach toys and water blasters for good measure, but she pictured her brothers rolling their eyes. We knew you couldn’t work on vacation.

Oh, yes she could, dammit. She turned on Matt’s computer, but as it fired to life, she felt herself go dead. Bone weary. Fighting her urges all day had worn her out. She needed something to perk herself up. Coffee? Better would be a hard run along the beach and a few primal screams into the Malibu twilight.

Stripping to her bikini, she grabbed a towel, left a note for her friends, and set off running.

AS SOON AS CANDY left, Matt realized he was well and truly smashed. He’d been so pumped with adrenaline and testosterone around her that he hadn’t truly felt the booze. He’d be sorry in the morning. She was right about that.

He tossed off his shirt and threw himself across his bed to watch the ceiling fan swirl. Then he noticed the fan wasn’t on. It was the ceiling that was spinning.

He jammed his foot to the floor to still the wonky kaleidoscope overhead. He felt as though he’d been tossed on his head by a real tsunami.

It was not just the liquor. It was Candy, too. He kept thinking about how her body felt in his arms, how soft her lips were, how sweet she’d tasted.

He knew he should regret kissing her, but he only wanted more. He knew the address of Ellie’s beach house. What if he moseyed over there?

Bad idea. Even drunk, he knew that. They worked together. He was her boss. And if Ellie was there to see him arrive, he’d never live it down.

He couldn’t believe he’d consider such a desperate act, even drunk. On the other hand, Candy was something else. She made him think of the summer fireflies of his childhood that he’d chased with a jar to get a closer look at their magic.

Who could resist her?

Abruptly, he remembered that beach bum who’d danced with her. Carter had practically eaten her up with his eyes. Maybe that’s not where I want him to be equal, she’d said.

Maybe she was with him right now. She wasn’t the kind of girl who called it a night at 7:00.

The thought burned through him and he jumped out of bed, needing to occupy himself. He could get started on the new org chart, sketch out possible teams. He’d brought personnel thumbnails for that purpose.

Nah. His mind was too scattered. He’d go online, catch up on e-mail. He’d walked all the way to the kitchen before he remembered that Candy had his computer. Damn.

He channel surfed for a while, restless, legs jumping, skin itchy. An hour passed somehow and he found himself staring out the window at the ocean, swaying a little.

Hell, why not swim off the booze? A brisk dip would clear his head and tame his libido at the same time. He threw on his trunks, tucked his key in the mesh pocket and headed out.

The moonlit water was cool, but not brutal, and he took long, hard strokes parallel to the shore, swimming until his breath came in hard gasps. He rested in a dog paddle and checked out the horizon, squinting, since he was without his glasses. The moon created a streak of silver across the black, rolling water.

He noticed rhythmic splashes to his left and saw someone in a yellow bikini swimming straight out to sea.

Candy? She had that color suit-he’d stared at her in it all day-and the swimmer was plowing single-mindedly through the water, the way Candy took on the world.

He swam close enough to see that, sure enough, it was her. How far would she go? She was smart, but headstrong. She might exhaust herself before she realized it and not make it back. At that thought, everything in him gathered tight. If something happened to her…

He was about to go after her when she reversed course and swam his way, the water flashing silver with each stroke.

He found the reef and stood, waiting for her. When she was close enough, he called her name, which made her jerk her head out of the water and blink at him.