Skinny Dipping (Skinny Sagas)

by Alicia M Kaye

  “Great.”

  “Great. I’ll call you to work out the details.” Matthew leaned over, and she held her breath as he kissed her softly on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sophie.” His eyes were round, his gaze intense.

  “Merry Christmas, Matthew.”

  At that moment she longed for mistletoe hanging over their heads.

  ***

  Sophie drove to the cottage in a blissful, dreamlike state, unaware of the traffic and honking horns, oblivious to any congestion. The Christmas Day traffic was bumper to bumper. She’d arrive soon enough. Matthew Silver had asked her, Sophie Smart, to his party in Brighton. The very thought sent shivers flying up her spine.

  He was extremely good-looking and there was a definite chemistry. Did it matter that they were professionally involved as well? Matthew seemed keen on finding a happy balance.

  Finally she reached the cottage and Sophie parked her Volkswagen Beetle. She collected an armful of presents from the boot. The first person she saw was Roger pacing outside the front of the cottage. He stalked up and down the pavement, clutching a red Santa cap. He didn’t even notice Sophie.

  “Dad?”

  He turned, his face was red. “A cruise,” he spat the words out. He ran his hands from the top of his forehead through his hair, and repeated the words, again and again. He scratched at his scalp like his hair was nit infested. “She bought me a God-damn cruise for Christmas. Hallelujah.” The sarcasm was thick in his voice.

  “It’s supposed to be partially for your anniversary,” Sophie said in a small voice.

  “After all the conversations we’ve had since she’s learnt I’ve lost my job and she buys me a cruise. I mean, doesn’t she get it? We can’t really afford it. I know she’s only paid the deposit, but the timing feels totally off. I need to get a job pronto.”

  He gasped for breath and leaned over, resting his palms on his knees. He inhaled sharply, like he’d run some type of marathon and was trying desperately to suck in air.

  “Dad, are you okay?” Sophie quickly set down her packages and put her arm around his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  He stood up abruptly, shrugging her off. “I’m fine.” He was too thin; his face was knitted with stress lines.

  “Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

  He shot her a glare, and held his chest. “What am I going to do?” His face was contorted. “It’s been months. I need to get full-time employment or we’re going to have to do something drastic.”

  “Like sell the house or something?”

  “Maybe move in with you.”

  Sophie didn’t know whether he was joking. “It won’t come to moving,” she muttered. “So you’ve discussed an employment action plan with Mum?”

  “Yes, but she’s so hopeful.” He shook his head. “She’s so hopeful because I had an interview and she got incredibly excited. We thought all our prayers were answered.”

  “How did it go?”

  He was shaking. “I don’t know. I thought it went well. They said they liked me. Then I didn’t hear anything back. I just don’t know what happened.” He visibly swallowed and then put his Santa hat back on his head. “I’ve had enough of this conversation today. We won’t speak any more of this Sophie. Today is Christmas. Okay? Christmas. Let’s both get into the spirit.”

  “What are you supposed to be doing out here?” she asked.

  “Collecting firewood for the blooming fireplace.”

  “I see…well we’d better get some.”

  Chapter 20

  Sophie spent the week at the country cottage with her family until the much anticipated day of New Year’s Eve arrived. This was also the day of Matthew’s party in Brighton.

  They’d written text messages back and forth for the whole Christmas period. He’d opened her Christmas present, a surf wallet, like the one he’d tried to buy off her at their first encounter. Even though the wallet reminded her of Rebecca, Sophie thought it was probably quite important for him to remember her.

  Sophie had arranged to drive Carol to Brighton, Mickey would meet them there. Sophie’s phone beeped again with another text message from Matthew. Carol snatched the phone and read the message. “Matthew says in his text, ‘Meet in thirty minutes. Looking forward to seeing you.’ Kiss, kiss, hug, hug.” She shot Sophie a conspiratorial look.

  “He did not kiss, kiss, hug, hug.” Sophie’s stomach twisted into knots of excitement as they arrived in Brighton.

  “You’ll never know,” Carol smirked. “Do I have to come with you as I’m going to be the third wheel?” she continued as Sophie pulled up at the designated spot.

  “Yes, I need you here.”

  “Why can’t your Art Director just do this?”

  “Because he’s lazy, yet talented.”

  “Did you ever think maybe you’re teaching him to be lazy?” Carol insisted. “Doing all his work for him? And why are you working on New Year’s Eve?”

  “It is not a public holiday today. It’s still a work day.” Sophie left her car and sauntered onto the promenade.

  “So…the Art Director should be doing this rather than you?” Carol insisted as she followed Sophie agitatedly.

  “You’ve got a point. Maybe I’m a control freak or I get stuck into the detail. But I love the details when it comes to advertising. Maybe that’s why I work so hard. I like to know everything about what’s going on in a campaign. Since the commercial is part of the campaign, I want to make sure the client gets exactly what we’ve promised. I need to make sure the director, the camera man, and everyone else involved knows exactly what we’re after. So when they read the shooting script, everyone in my team understands what’s expected.”

  “What’s a shooting script?” Carol asked. “Sorry, I only do stage, really. I’d love to do a commercial though, I think.”

  Sophie regarded Carol standing on Brighton beach. She’d be keen, and they were having so much trouble with that girl Samantha. “A shooting script has all the detail of the shots: The camera moves, the dialogue, instructions about any voice-overs or anything else that will be featured in the commercial. It even includes information about the costumes and specifics about the props we’ll use. Having a shooting script means that all the people involved will be on the same page. It’s like a reference document, to make sure we achieve the right message when shooting the commercial.”

  Carol, bored with all the details, gave a shrill scream. “Matthew?” He was one hundred metres away, ambling toward them.

  Matthew waved. “Girls.”

  Sophie watched as Carol rushed to accost him. Sophie toyed with her camera, releasing her nerves. There was nothing to worry about. She’d seen him so many times before. He was so attractive, his blond hair, blowing wildly in the wind. She could tell from the bounce in his walk that he was in an exceptionally good mood.

  “Happy New Year, Matthew. Is Josh going to be at your party tonight?” Carol asked.

  “He’s already at the hotel sitting at the lobby bar.”

  She looked over and past his shoulder, hoping Josh might miraculously appear. “Excellent!” Carol shrieked.

  Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Matthew reached for Sophie. He picked her up, and spun her around. She screamed in delight.

  “Welcome to Brighton,” he whispered in her ear. He shot her a dangerous grin and seemed thrilled to see her. He gently put her down.

  Feeling flustered, Sophie turned to Carol. “Let’s make the most of the daylight. I need to take shots from different angles. This won’t take more than an hour,” she commented, and she urged both Carol and Matthew out onto the beach.

  “Do I have to be here?” Carol asked.

  “You’re my model.” She directed Carol to walk out onto the pebbled beach. “Matthew’s the client, so he can just watch.”

  “Really? I’m your model, excellent.” Carol seemed thrilled, jumping into action, clapping her hands excitedly. There was only a flicker of uncertainty in
Carol’s gaze. It was almost unnoticeable, but Sophie recognised it.

  Swallowing, Carol soon regained her composure. She pushed her shoulders back. She stood tall, straight and held her head high as though nothing fazed her. After all, Carol revelled at being the centre of attention.

  “I need phenomenal shots to show Desmond,” Sophie said stubbornly. “Matthew, scan the area and consider whether you’re happy with this location because this is where we plan to film.”

  “Okay.” He blanked his face and adopted an exceptionally serious expression. But his lips twitched, in a sexy type of way. Sophie wondered what it would be like to kiss them again, not pretending to be his girlfriend.

  It was her turn to frown, trying not to get carried away thinking about Matthew’s lips. “Of course. Let’s get this over and done with so we can enjoy the festivities. Carol, just stand there and I’ll take photos of every angle.”

  Carol froze like a statue and held herself with grace and elegance from her ballet training. She stood smiling, showing her long, slender neck, and expressive, elfin face. She was a natural. She really could model or be the girl for the commercial, the way her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

  Sophie photographed Carol with the famous Brighton pier in the background. She snapped the horizon, with the water lapping the pebbles. After taking almost thirty different photos, she revised what she’d caught on camera, and her handiwork. Desmond would definitely have something to work with.

  “Matthew, come and look,” she instructed, pointing to a frame on the camera screen where Carol looked radiant. The photograph showed Carol’s mass of gleaming blonde hair blowing in the wind. Her large eyes would hold anyone’s attention.

  “She looks brilliant. She’s not the girl we’re using though, is she?” Matthew said in a low voice, quietly so Carol couldn’t overhear.

  “No….” Sophie said slowly.

  “Pity.”

  Sophie nodded. “Very nicely done, thank you Carol,” she said. “It’s a wrap.”

  Carol relaxed after her posing. She glanced nervously at Sophie. “Are the pictures okay?” She ran a hand through her mass of blonde hair.

  “Terrific,” Sophie assured her. “You’re quite a natural.”

  Carol sighed visibly, and her eyes glittered at the compliment.

  “They really look fabulous,” Matthew confirmed.

  “Thanks.” Carol squeezed Sophie’s hand. “If they’re not, we can stay longer. I was so worried I might be tense.”

  “You were perfect.”

  Carol seemed to shake herself, and the worry away from her body. “Well that was fun,” she enthused. “We should go back. I’ve got a party to get ready for. And I’ve got to see Josh.”

  ***

  The girls got ready in the penthouse suite. Matthew was staying somewhere else in the hotel, with a group of his university friends. Sophie didn’t know the room number. All she knew was that they planned to meet at the party which was downstairs in one of the reception rooms. Sophie dressed in a short red dress and Carol wore a sleek, flashy number.

  Mickey arrived, dumping a backpack on the floor as she walked into the penthouse. Her jaw dropped to the floor as she looked around. “So we’re all staying here the night?” Mickey raced around the suite, suddenly hyper, like she’d consumed too much sugar. She jumped on one of the beds. “Nice spring?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Yeah. I guess,” Sophie said.

  “So this has to be a date,” Carol insisted, “It is a date, isn’t it?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I dunno. He just asked us all to the party. All of us.”

  “You are in mass denial,” Mickey said. “Tell us what’s going on. We’re all in Brighton in the bloody penthouse suite.” She flopped onto a bed.

  “There’s not much to tell. Nothing has happened.”

  “You should have the master bedroom,” Carol said, her eyes wide, innocent and rounded.

  “Nope, that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I couldn’t take him back to my room. That would be a promise of….”

  “Ah ha. So you’ve thought about it. You’ve thought about having sex with him.” Mickey prodded Sophie’s shoulder. “Why not? He’s gorgeous, nice, and rich.”

  “It’s not about him being gorgeous, nice, and rich. You make me sound like a gold digger.”

  “Lighten up Soph, have a little bit of fun,” Carol chided. “He’s a good bloke.”

  “If it’s going to work with Matthew, you’d better start by taking a risk,” Mickey mused. “The situation isn’t ideal, with Matthew being your client. You can’t control everything and if you like him, you’ve wasted enough time pretending you don’t.”

  ***

  By the time they got to the party, it was in full swing, with a DJ playing music. There were about one hundred people, all with drinks in their hands. Carol and Mickey practically fled to find a waiter, leaving Sophie alone. She wondered how she would find Matthew amongst the crowd.

  Working her way through, she eventually found him – surrounded by women, of course. They seemed dazzled by him, with their heads tilted toward him. He wore casual black jeans, and an expensive-looking, crisp, white shirt.

  Sophie’s knees wobbled like jelly as she approached, and she wondered whether Carol or Mickey might be right, and if she would see him with no clothes on.

  He caught her eye, and shot her a lazy, sexy smile. He excused himself and broke from his conversation to approach her. Almost echoing her thoughts, he spoke. “It’s good to see you.” He offered her a glass to drink, the tips of his fingers somehow innocently brushing hers.

  “Yes,” she smiled. “You look great.” She was acutely aware of her body responding to him, her neck arching up toward his tall frame, all her attention on him.

  He shrugged. “And you look beautiful, as always.” His tone was very casual, but closely followed by a devilish grin.

  “The party’s in full swing. And it’s still quite early in the evening,” she said, pushing a hand through her hair. There was a group of people sucking jelly shooters. “Everyone arrived yet?”

  “Not quite, we’re expecting another hundred people.”

  “Awesome place, awesome party. Oh, there’s Eve.” Sophie recognised Eve from the swimming centre and waved her over.

  “Yes, Eve’s here,” Matthew sighed. “Talk to everyone, or do whatever you want to. But I’m hoping you won’t talk to anyone else for too long. I would like to spend some time just with you, later on if it’s possible?” He gave her a confident stare and then took his leave as Eve approached.

  It wasn’t as easy a task as he might have requested; as the volume of people increased, it was almost impossible to talk to Matthew. Everyone at the party wanted a second of his time.

  At eleven thirty, Matthew made an announcement. The fireworks would be soon and anyone brave enough should go outside onto the terrace, because there would be a stunning view.

  The party became chaotic as guests searched for coats and hoarded outside onto the terrace. In true English style, a crowd huddled to wait for the countdown.

  Sophie shivered at the thought. “Want to join me outside?” Matthew asked, suddenly at her side.

  “I have to get a wrap or a coat, or my cardigan. Otherwise, I’ll freeze.”

  “Do you want my coat?”

  “No, I’ll only be one minute. I’ll just run upstairs.”

  “Do you want me to come upstairs?” Matthew asked, flashing a dangerous smile. “I could keep you company?” The words were loaded with meaning. His expression gave her a distinct feeling that if he came upstairs, the equilibrium between them would certainly change.

  She nodded.

  He escorted her in silence, toward the lift. They entered, and she realised they rode alone together. She found safety, standing on the other side, keeping a distance from him.

  The lift travelled up. Level three. Level four. Level five. They travelled without speaking, their eyes meeting in the door’s reflection
.

  The lift doors opened and Sophie used every ounce of effort not to rush out and fling the door to the suite open. With painstaking effort they both entered the penthouse calmly and she hurried into the master bedroom to find her cardigan.

  Half-frenzied, she searched for the garment. She tried to focus on finding her warm item of clothing but her head was full of thoughts of him. She could imagine Matthew peeling her clothes off and having his way with her, right there, in the master bedroom.

  She tried to regulate her breathing. “Thanks for the suite, it’s grand,” she sang out, even though he stood casually by the master bedroom doorway. He watched her hungrily as she smiled at finding the cardigan. She pulled it on and fumbled with the buttons, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the way he stood so very sexily by the doorway.

  “Later, if you want, I could give you a tour of the rest of the hotel?”

  “Sure,” she agreed, exiting the room with speed.

  “What do you think?” he asked, stopping by the large glass doors in the penthouse lounge. He gave her a sidelong glance. “This room has an excellent view.”

  “Yes, it’s lovely,” she approached him, and looked at the sea.

  “I wanted to say something to you,” he said, turning to face her. “I know it’s early. But… Happy New Year.” His voice was intense, and he reached to remove a strand of hair from her face.

  “Happy New Year,” she answered, feeling heat from where he touched her.

  “You’ve missed one.” He fumbled with her cardigan buttons. “You’ve got them all out of synch. I’ll help you put this on properly. No need for you to be cold.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, I didn’t realise.” The pressure of his hands sent a shiver of anticipation through her body.

  Their eyes locked. His arm circled her waist, and hauled her toward him. Any fear about them complicating their professional relationship vanished from her mind. She was lost in his handsome face and the intensity of his expression. His large blue eyes searched for any type of resistance.