“For now, yeah.” They’d gotten past the sex thing and were back to Plan A, so it was all good. “On to the mall now.”

Matt groaned. “Can we get coffee there?”

“Absolutely.”

In a half hour, they were strolling through the Malibu Country Mart, a friendly collection of boutiques boasting loads of greenery, flowers and arches, a rest area with a sandy playground and a view of the beach.

“I need a fill-up.” Matt held the door to a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf café for her.

“You’re buying from one of Ellie’s competitors?”

“People go to Dark Gothic Roast for Ellie as much as the coffee. No one can compete with that.”

“True.” She liked how well Matt knew his sister and how obvious his affection for her was.

At the oak counter, Candy studied the menu.

“I think you’ll want the macchiato with an extra shot of espresso,” Matt said. “It’s the closest to café de Sade.”

She jerked her gaze to his. “You know my coffee?”

“And you take it with sweetener, cream and cinnamon.”

“Ah. You’re remembering the time I sprinkled your shoes.”

Another awkward Dark Gothic Roast meeting. She’d been relieved she hadn’t added scalding coffee to the cinnamon topping she’d applied to Matt’s wing tips.

“I just know what you like.”

In bed. The message was clear. “Oh.” Heat rose between them and she knew they were both remembering their erotic encounter.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Matt said, jerked out of the moment. “She’ll have the machiatto with a shot of espresso.”

“And he’ll have Columbian regular,” Candy said. When the clerk left, she turned to him. “Black, right? I know what you like, too.”

“Oh, yeah. You do.” More heat, more trembling.

Somehow, they made it to a table, and she vowed to keep her mind on their professional relationship, not their recent intimacy.

“Nice job on the PowerPoint,” Matt said, clearly trying to shift the topic. Did he sound surprised?

She realized she should clear up another misconception he probably had about her. “That reminds me, while we’re overcoming bad impressions, I want to explain about that report I was late with-the next morning? After I fell?”

“The report that was missing pages and riddled with typos? I don’t remember that one.”

She cringed inside. “Exactly. You see what happened was-”

“It’s water under the bridge. You don’t have to explain.”

“I need to explain. The reason I was late was I had to help my neighbor look for her lost dog. She was sobbing in the parking lot, so what could I do?”

“Express sympathy and get to work on time?” But he smiled, teasing her. “You could never do that.” He leaned closer and she realized she’d moved in, too, her head at a flirty angle. They were behaving like lovers in public, hinting at secret moments they’d shared. Sex had changed their rapport, which wasn’t good, no matter how lovely it felt.

She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Anyway, helping her made me late and I’d forgotten that I hadn’t finalized the report. It was not like me. I meet deadlines and am committed to quality and-”

“Did you find the dog?”

“The dog? Oh. Yes. Covered in mud. You should have seen my backseat, but we found her.”

“So it was worth it.”

“Except that it left you with a bad taste in your mouth about me.”

“I think you tasted quite nice that night. Sweet and salty from the margarita. Spicy, too. Your own taste.”

His words set her entire body on fire. How was she supposed to talk about work when this could happen so easily?

“The point is that I’m responsible and dependable and-”

“Your work speaks for itself, Candy. If this is about me being your boss, I wish you’d forget it. You’re fine with me. I know your strengths.”

And her weaknesses? Would they keep him from choosing her as a team leader? She was dying to ask, but that seemed inappropriate and too pushy.

The clerk called out their orders, then Candy took hers to the condiment station. When she returned to the table, Matt said, “I don’t get why you ruin perfectly good coffee with all that junk.” He nodded at her cup, which she was still stirring.

“Because plain coffee is boring. I like to change it up.”

“Why change something that’s already great?”

“To make it better?”

“I guess we see things differently,” he said, which was a perfect reminder. They’d had a one-of-a-kind sexual head-on that would have never happened in the real world where their romantic interests were as different as their taste in coffee.

“So, on this makeover…” Matt said, obviously changing the subject. “You’re not going for blue hair or anything, right?”

“Hmm. Not sure.” She looked at him through a picture frame of her thumbs and index fingers. “Blue would clash with your eyes. Maybe magenta.” She sipped more coffee.

“Lord. I’m putting myself in your hands, you know.”

“Yeah. You said that.”

Her fingers trembled, so she put down her cup. They both took shaky breaths. Matt seemed to force a smile.

“I’m glad we straightened things out,” Candy said. “About the report and about that night.”

“You see I’m not the complete dork I was that night?”

“I was the one with my thong on display.”

“Ah, the thong…” He smiled wistfully. “I loved the thong. Tiger-striped, too. Are those things as uncomfortable as they look?”

“You get used to it,” she said, feeling herself blush.

“I speak for all men when I say thank you for making the effort.” He tapped his cup against hers.

“So you enjoyed my humiliation?”

“Not the humiliation part. The thong part, yeah.”

They both chuckled, the sound blending like music in the small shop, then fading, though they held each other’s gaze.

“How’s the hangover doing?” she asked.

“Better,” he said, as if he’d forgotten. “You were right.”

“I’m right a lot,” she said.

“I have no doubt. I had fun yesterday, hangover notwithstanding.” His eyes were soft and his smile spread. “I don’t even regret the karaoke.”

“Why would you? We were great together.” She heard “You’re the One that I Want” again in her head. “How about the dancing? Did you like that?”

“With you, sure.”

“I mean the girl grinding on you.”

“That was weird. I felt like a pole in a strip club.”

“Surely it was nicer than that.”

“It depends on who’s doing the rubbing.”

“I guess.” Every time he made a remark like that she got a zing. It was wearing her out. She remembered she hadn’t told him about the girls’ plan for the festival competition.

“Listen, Matt, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Definitely not magenta,” he said.

“No. It’s about the festival.” She told him about the competition, the prize, Sara’s spreadsheet and the points he’d already helped them win.

“So I take it I’m your teammate?” he asked.

“I promised them we’d do some of the events, yes.”

“Nothing too humiliating, I hope.”

“Depends on how you feel about Jell-O wrestling.”

“With you, I’d consider it.” He winked, making her tremble like the gelatin dessert they were discussing.

“Red Jell-O stains, so forget that.”

“Damn,” he said, snapping his fingers in pretend dismay.

“But how about a limbo contest? It’s early-before the Hot Shot Scavenger Hunt.”

“Limbo? Backbends to music? Doesn’t sound like me.”

“Sure it does. It sounds exactly like Fun Guy. Plus it’ll be networking practice.”

Matt sighed. “You could talk me into anything, Candy. Like I said before, I’m in your hands.”

And that was both delightful and scary. She could end up with the promotion she craved or in deep professional weeds, depending on how she handled herself.