“You said the left cheek?” When she nodded, he turned away, slid his thumb into his trunks and shoved them down, revealing the muscled swell of his gorgeous ass. He looked over his shoulder. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.” It was like some hot Calvin Klein ad and she felt such a rush of arousal she could hardly click the picture. In fact, the first one blurred.

“One more,” she said, holding her breath and stilling her shaking long enough to snap the shot.

She showed it to him. “Like I said. I’m the only one who can tell it’s you.”

“You can tell?” he said gruffly.

“How could I forget how you look naked?” she breathed, swaying closer.

No, no, no. Stick to the goal-get the shots, then go.

“Hold this while I get my thong.” She handed him the phone, then went to paw through her suitcase for the novelty underwear, which she waved at Matt. “I’ll put this on and be right back.”

“I’ll wait,” he said slowly, one hand fisting at his side, the other holding the camera.

The moment that had started out so matter-of-fact was now a rising tide of heat that lifted Candy off her feet. She could see in Matt’s eyes he felt the same.

They were all alone in the house and nearly naked. SyncUp seemed far away. Everything in her was demanding she do something about this before she burst into flames on the spot.

She rushed to the bathroom, slammed the door and leaned on it, her heart in her throat, fighting for air and some trace of good sense, which seemed to have fled the scene.

She had the terrible thought that the near future Magellan had predicted for them was right here, right now.

THIS WAS TOO SURREAL for words. Candy was in the bathroom donning the tiniest strip of fabric known to man so that Matt could take her picture in it. How had he gotten here?

Already, he’d allowed her to photograph his bare ass to be flashed on a huge screen for thousands of strangers.

And he wasn’t sorry. Or not very sorry. Yet.

He wasn’t drunk this time. He’d had wine and sucked a shot of tequila from Candy’s belly, but that had been hours ago. Just in case, he tried standing on one leg and touching his nose. He was sober, all right. No, his problem wasn’t alcohol. It was the wild enzymes that flooded the human brain when it was aroused, ready to fight or flee or ask a girl to marry him.

All because of Candy, that willful whirlwind who had strangers cheerfully whipping off their underwear at her whim.

No wonder he’d ended up here. She was the most charming woman he’d ever met, a ball of energy and fun he wanted to hold on to for dear life.

There was something going on here. Something he didn’t want to miss. He felt himself focus, felt his energy concentrate to a pinpoint of attention. This was his way, he knew, his tendency to push hard toward a goal, not to be deterred until he had what he wanted.

And what he wanted right now was Candy.

Forget SyncUp, forget his good sense, forget his career, his duty. Forget everything but this moment.

Something important was happening to him or at least that’s how it seemed. Before he could close in on whether or not he was delusional, the door opened and there stood Candy.

She seemed to glow, rim-lit somehow. He realized that when he was with her, the world seemed more vivid. He noticed things he usually ignored-the shifting colors of sunset, the grind of sand under his soles, the way the heat of the sun crawled like goose bumps across his shoulders, the blur and shimmer of seaside light and the way her husky laugh lit him up inside.

She wore the white bikini top and, below, a tiny triangle of black cloth with a red X over Marks the Spot in lacy script.

X marks the spot. Yeah. The spot he’d touched last night. He’d held his thumb there and made her moan with pleasure. He wanted to do that again. He wanted to surprise her, please her, make her scream.

Lust surged through him in a wave that threatened to drown him if he didn’t go along for the ride.

“You ready?” she asked, walking closer.

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed. “I’m ready.”

“Your phone?” She smiled tentatively at him, then looked around, spotting her cell phone on the table. “You can use mine.” She handed it to him. “Did you forget why we’re here?” She bit her lip, uncertain.

“Not at all.” He took the phone, but kept watching her, fighting for control, giving restraint one last chance.

“Where do you want me?” she said, her voice shaky.

“Anywhere you want to be.”

She positioned herself with her legs wide, her hands on her hips, most of her body bared to his gaze. “How about here?”

He looked at her through the viewer.

“Can you read the words on the thong? They need to be clear. Maybe take it at eye level?”

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking.” He dropped to his knees, inches away, eye level with the X. His cock jutted outward in his trunks. If she looked down, she’d see.

He realized he wanted her to know what she did to him.

He took the shot, caught up in being so close to her. Her stomach quivered and he picked up her light musk, heady and arousing. He was a strip of cloth away from heaven.

And he was suddenly sick of hell. He’d had it with fighting the flames. Time to put out the fire.

“Enough.” He shut the phone and tossed it to the couch. “Forget the contest and the deal.” He grabbed Candy’s hips and looked up into her face.

Her eyes widened in alarm, but they gleamed too, with the same desire that burned through him.

There were no words now, only actions. He pressed his tongue against her through the fabric.

She quivered against him, sinking down. “What are you doing?”

Making you mine flew through his mind.

“But you can’t…You…oh. Don’t…Oh, yes…”

He nuzzled her, then blew a breath, before moving his tongue up and down over the panties, wet now from his saliva and the juices he could taste, sweet and salty at once.

“We agreeed.” She moaned, grabbing his hair, struggling for balance.

He’d stop if she truly wanted him to. But then she leaned into his mouth and nudged her sex against his lips, asking for more.

Which he was happy to give. He gripped her hips, held her closer, pressed harder with his tongue. She moaned and her thighs trembled against his cheeks.

He wanted the thong gone, so he tugged it down and ran his tongue over her swollen clit hiding beneath soft curls.

She squealed. “Oh, that is so…oh…oh…don’t…ever…stooop.”

He reached behind her and cupped her bottom, angling her so his tongue could reach her opening. He pressed down the way she’d liked his fingers pushing in last night. He was so hard he was blind to anything but this moment, her body, her musk, her sounds. He wanted inside, too, but first this.

He ran his tongue down her length and reached inside.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She rocked against him and he felt the pulse of her need against his tongue. She was swollen, ready to fly with just a bit more-a slide of his tongue, a burst of hot breath. He gave her both.

She stilled and said his name as if he were everything to her. And for this moment, he wanted to be. He pushed his tongue into her as far as he could. She rocked wildly and cried out, caught on the wave of her release. He held her, stayed with her, felt the rhythmic flutter of her spasms.

When she was done, he kissed her hair, then rose to his feet. Holding her with one arm, he used his other hand to rid himself of his trunks.

Reading what he wanted, Candy gave a little jump, then wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

He carried her to the closest wall, braced her, opened her and entered her slickness with one hard stroke.

“You feel so good,” she said on a moan.

He thrust up, loving the way she gripped him with her sex and her arms. He cupped her bottom, supporting her as best he could, burying himself deep, never wanting to leave the tight warm space she’d opened to him.