by Karen Anders
“Miss Cole?”
“Yes.”
“I’m a reporter with On magazine and I got your number from your agent. I was hoping to interview you for a piece we’re doing on former Miss National winners.”
“A where-are-they-now kind of piece?”
“Exactly.”
Bridget cringed at the thought of describing where she was now, but then immediately brightened. She could get Matt some much-needed publicity if she glossed over her job woes and played up her CEO status while mentioning Matt’s great fabric. This gig with Matt was temporary, not her modeling career, but she was sure she could put some kind of spin on it. “That would be great.”
“Is now a good time?”
“Now would be fine,” she said.
On magazine had a huge readership. It couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy. She wouldn’t have to reveal too many facts at this point. This was most likely a fluff piece.
She, after all, was the one who was supposed to make the decisions. She was the CEO.
And she knew she had Matt’s trust.
And that meant a lot to her.
After she disconnected the call from the reporter, her cell rang again. “Bridget, I got you a job, but it’s in Puerto Rico. Can you grab a flight from Logan?”
Bridget looked down at the fabric in her hands. It would have to wait. “Yes, what time?”
Leslie gave her the flight details.
“How long?”
“A week. Did you get the call from On?”
“Yes, just now.”
“Good. That may generate some interest. Talk to you later.”
“Thanks, Leslie.”
Bridget bustled around her room, packing what she needed. She picked up her cell phone and called Matt. His sleepy voice answered. She told him what was happening and promised to see him when she got back.
MATT DESCENDED THE STAIRS with his students’ graded papers and his suit jacket. He put the stack of exams in his briefcase and clicked the top closed. Smoothing out the jacket, he hung it on the back of one of his kitchen chairs.
Bridget had been gone a week and he was hoping she’d be back today.There was a knock on the door and he looked down at his watch in surprise. He didn’t expect his lunch party for another hour.
He pulled open the door to discover that dessert had arrived ahead of schedule. Bridget looked good enough to eat in the hot pink bathing suit cover-up she’d been wearing last week on Saturday.
“Welcome back. Are you going for a swim?” he asked, perplexed as to why she had the edges of the cover-up clasped in her closed fist and a magazine and newspaper in the other.
“No. I wanted to show you this. I forgot to tell you about it before I left.”
He took the magazine she thrust out to him. Her picture was on the cover with a headline that read Miss National. Where Are They Now?
“On?” Matt felt a sudden uneasy feeling crawl across his skin. “That’s a national magazine.”
“I thought it would be good publicity for your fabric and your business. Was I wrong?”
He reassured himself that she was the public face on the company and he had nothing to worry about. He could stay anonymous. “Yes, of course, it is good publicity.”
“I didn’t expect this, though.”
She handed him the newspaper folded open to the fashion section. He read the headline of the short article.
New CEO Announces Revolutionary Fabric—Almostaked™. Matt’s unbelieving eyes scanned the first paragraph of the article.
Bridget Cole isn’t your ordinary CEO. But that’s no surprise. She’s a former Miss National. For years, pageants like Miss National have been vehicles with which women pursued career-related aspirations. Cole knew wearing the crown would bring instant fame, trips across the country and invitations to premiere social events. She knew winning meant giving speeches to thousands of people across the nation—including heads of major corporations—and raising awareness for charities. With all that training and her ten years as a fashion model, this position is tailor-made for this former winner. The company, Almost Naked, Inc., will focus on marketing a new lingerie fabric that will revolutionize the women’s apparel market. Cole states that, “This fabric is softer than silk, much more comfortable, washable and it breathes just like cotton.” Imagine that, ladies, comfortable lingerie. She’s sure to take the fabric world by storm.
“The newspaper must have picked up on the On article. Matt, say something.”“Almost Naked, Inc.”
“Yeah. I thought it was eye-catching.”
“That it is. And you named the fabric.”
“Sure. I said that’s what it feels like against my skin.”
“Do you have any more surprises up your sleeves?”
She stepped inside and he closed the door. When he turned around she pulled open the cover-up and let it fall. “Just this.”
She knew how to make a dramatic statement. Her tousled blond hair lay loose around her silk-clad shoulders. Slumberous blue eyes focused on him and her lips formed a slow, sensual smile that made him feel sucker punched.
Matt lost all train of thought. Everything flew right out of his head as if it had never existed. He just took her in with one big, greedy gulp, unable to get enough. He knew he was supposed to be doing something, but her beauty pulled him in like a vortex, potent and exhilarating and wholly irresistible.
Bridget wore a formfitting pale pink diaphanous T-shirt, decorated with darker pink flowers. The see-through material left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The sight of her full, rounded breasts pressed tight against the fabric made his fingers itch to touch her. One enticing nipple formed the center of one flower. He ached to close his mouth over it and taste her sweet nectar. His eyes followed the line of her body down past her flat stomach to her hips where she wore a matching pair of boy briefs in the same sexy color.
While his eyes lingered and brazenly raked over her body, she watched him, her own eyes roving hungrily over his face.
He wanted her as he had never hungered for anything before, even knowledge. That rocked him back on his heels and his gut tightened. She was pure, unadulterated pleasure.
His eyes traveled over her face again and down her elegant neck to her breasts.
She would be a high-maintenance woman with her unending well of energy. She would take his attention and invade his privacy right down to his soul. Somehow, right now, he couldn’t care.
“What do you think?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I finish swallowing my tongue.”
“You like it.”
“You have to ask? Isn’t the stunned expression on my face enough?”
“I need you to say it, Matt. Will it do?”
His thoughts about doing had nothing at all to do with the fabric. “Bridget, it’s beautiful, sexy, mind-numbing. Blood is surging to the naughty parts of my body.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m going to sleep in it tonight, get familiar with the fabric, but it feels amazing against my skin. I can’t believe this fabric was a mistake. When normal people make a mistake, it usually turns out bad.”
“Oh, this is bad,” he said, closing the short distance between them. “Very, very bad.”
He took her mouth in a fast, hard kiss, pushing his hips tight up against hers and rushing them both beyond control. She pushed back just as fiercely. He drew one hand slowly down between them, his hips still joined to hers…and their gazes locked on each other.
Neither said a word as he brushed his thumb over that tantalizing nipple. “I don’t know what’s softer, the fabric or your delectable body.”
His eyes caressed her face as he gently pinched her nipple between his fingers. She groaned softly, her hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders, unbuckling his pants.
Her clothes disappeared and his pants ended up around his ankles as he pushed her back onto the couch. Bracing his forearms on either side of her shoulders and settling himself between her legs
, he dropped his head against her neck and groaned as he impaled her to the hilt. Her back bowed as he began to move in earnest, his strokes growing faster, harder, stronger….
When he opened his eyes, her face was inches away from his as he continued to thrust into her, her blue eyes so intense they burned straight to his soul, and he knew in that moment that he’d never be the same again.
He called out her name as their bodies convulsed, his orgasm slamming into him with a physically powerful force, mingling with the need to be close to this woman.
Long minutes later, he released her, sitting back to give her some breathing room. Bridget didn’t move.
“You were going somewhere, weren’t you? I messed you all up. I know I rushed over here unannounced, but I was so excited about getting on the cover of On, the newspaper article and how the outfit turned out.”
Matt didn’t answer as the knock on his front door interrupted their conversation and brought memory flooding back. He was having lunch with two colleagues from MIT.
He scrambled off the couch, fumbling for his clothes. They couldn’t see Bridget here. A lot of people read On. It was possible they could see her and put him and Almost Naked together.
“Get dressed,” he said a little more sharply than he’d meant to in light of what they’d just shared.
“What’s wrong?”
“My secret is in jeopardy.”
5
THAT WAS THE FASTEST she’d ever seen a human being dress. And she should know. She’d been in plenty of runway shows. He’d grabbed up the sexy outfit that he’d just gotten her out of and rushed her into the downstairs bathroom.
Dying of curiosity, she peered out of the slightly ajar door. Matt and a woman were standing close to the couch and there was another person just out of her eyesight. It was then she saw her cover-up. Oh, damn.With a sly look on her face, the woman picked it up. She said, “Matt, do you have a new girlfriend you didn’t tell me about?”
Matt cleared his throat. “Ah, no, it belongs to the woman next door.”
For one irrational second, she felt stung that Matt couldn’t claim her, in any way, not as a friend and surely, not as a girlfriend.
“Okay,” the sly woman said. “She has really good taste.”
So Matt knew this woman well. Irritation sent heat rushing through Bridget’s body and to her face. Her irrational anger was weird and uncharacteristic. Any woman who had the good fashion taste to covet a stylish piece of clothing was worth getting to know.
Exploding out of Matt’s bathroom dressed in her provocative outfit would be sheer lunacy, she knew, thus she continued to watch, curbing the overwhelming urge.
She was peeved. He didn’t want her to meet his friends. He couldn’t even take a moment to kiss her. That was a man for you.
She would have made a great impression on his friends. Even after being fully ravished on his couch, Bridget knew how to present herself. She sighed. Of course, she knew it was because of his worry about being exposed, but she still felt miffed. Only a few minutes ago, she’d been entwined around his naked body.
As soon as they exited the house, Bridget made her way to the couch and snatched her cover-up. Donning it, she walked to the window and peered out, getting an unobstructed look at the woman. Matt was talking to her in the driveway as they made their way down to a waiting car at the curb. She was impeccably dressed in a Donna Karan lime-green blazer and black pants. Her dark hair fell in a stylish cut that had to have cost at least two hundred bucks. She was wearing black Kenneth Cole croc pumps, taking long strides to keep up with Matt.
While Bridget watched, Matt’s companion slipped her arm through his and Bridget narrowed her eyes. Although the woman had great taste in clothes and men, Bridget wanted to rip her apart for even touching Matt. He was hers.
Whoa. He wasn’t hers. He couldn’t be hers. She wouldn’t be staying around Cambridge long enough to build any kind of lasting relationship. It was just a matter of time before she went back to her life in New York. She turned away, unable to look at them any longer. She had to wonder who the woman was, since Matt had rushed out before he’d given her an explanation. She suspected that she must be a colleague.
Bridget was sure the woman had plenty to talk to Matt about. The intricacies of chemistry and whatever else it took to invent fabrics was much more interesting than Bridget’s little sexy outfit. She felt stupid and she so hated feeling stupid. She was pretty sure that Miss Donna Karan was much more stimulating intellectually than Bridget could ever hope to be.
She went to the front door, planning to slip out and lock it behind her, but realized too late that Matt and his lunch party were still at the curb. The woman turned her head just as Bridget stepped out. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing car, Bridget froze. The woman got a good look at her goofy oh-no-I’ve-been-caught face before Bridget jumped back and quickly shut the door.
Hopefully Matt was wrong and the woman wouldn’t recognize her from the article in the paper or the On piece. Did brainy types even read On?
Yet a nagging doubt lingered. The woman was so put together and knew her fashion. Maybe she had it all—brains, beauty and taste.
Bridget sneaked over to the window, standing far enough to the side to be able to make sure that the car had pulled away from the curb. Feeling like a fool, she walked back to the front door and left Matt’s house.
It was time to stop fooling around. She had a business to build. She hoped after Matt finished with lunch, she’d still have a job.
HOURS LATER, Bridget’s gut squeezed into a tight fist and she was pretty certain she was going to throw up. She’d decided it was time to find out exactly how to start a business, and she’d consulted the Internet. The sheer volume of material made her head swim. What the heck had she gotten herself into? How was she going to keep her creative flow if she had to worry about marketing and business plans and, God forbid, a mission statement? She certainly couldn’t go to Matt and quit. She’d barely begun, and she really needed the job. She sat back in her aunt’s comfy office chair and stared at the computer.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed.“Carlyle Business Services.”
“May I speak with Naomi Carlyle,” Bridget said with just a tad of panic in her voice. Keep your cool, she told herself sternly.
When Naomi came on the line Bridget said, “I’ll pay you a huge consulting fee if you come to Cambridge and help me. I’ll pick up the expenses, too.”
“Bridget?”
“Yes.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I got a job and I need your help.”
“What have you gotten yourself into?”
Bridget could picture Naomi in her posh office, sitting in her high-backed leather chair with a breathtaking view of the city. All she had to offer the girl was a messy bedroom and a small office with a view of the hot tub in the backyard. A far cry from big business.
Bridget ran her free hand through her hair, feeling that familiar wad of dread in her stomach that appeared whenever she had to admit that she couldn’t handle something. She’d spent so much time in her life protecting her image that it terrified her to reveal any weakness to anyone. But she needed Naomi’s help. “I’ve gotten myself into a situation that is a little over my head.”
There was silence for a moment as if Naomi was shocked at Bridget’s confession, a step back in a relationship that had been teetering on full-blown friendship.
“What kind of situation?” Naomi asked, her voice sharpening.
“I’m the new CEO of a company marketing a revolutionary new fabric.”
“Really?” Naomi said with admiration. “How did you manage that?”
“It’s too much to go into right now. I’ll explain it to you later.”
“What exactly is the problem, then?” Naomi asked, her voice softening. The confidence that Naomi projected always made Bridget feel at ease and gave her hope that her almost friend would take what Br
idget was offering.
“The fabric,” Bridget said.
“Marketing the fabric?”
Feeling antsy, Bridget got up and walked to the back door. Stepping outside, she paced the length of her aunt’s patio, her chest tightening up on her. “It’s a little more involved than that. I need to incorporate.”
“Oh,” Naomi said in total understanding. “Have you filed the paperwork?”
“Paperwork? Ah, no.”
“Do you have a business plan?”
Bridget gritted her teeth. “No again.”
“Marketing plan?”
Bridget sighed, and looked down at the sparkling aquamarine of the pool. She thought of just leaning over and soaking her head. Instead, she kicked off her shoes and sat down at the edge of the pool. Dipping her feet into the cool water, she said wryly, “Three strikes.”
“Okay.” Naomi’s voice was full of reassurance. “What about the fabric? Do you have a manufacturer?”
“Yes! Matt gave me the name of the business he used. I’ve already put in a large order and signed a contract. I did something right.”
“Ah, Bridget, do you have buyers?”
“No, not yet.”
Bridget’s enthusiasm was short-lived. There was once again silence at the end of the line. “I hate to break the news to you, but the International Fashion Fabric Exhibition was three months ago.”
The ominous tone of Naomi’s voice sent a shiver down Bridget’s spine. She pulled her feet out of the water and started pacing again. “What does that mean?”
“Well, buyers from all over the world go there specifically to purchase for spring-summer of the following year. I work for a few designers and I know some of the buyers came back with some sensational fabrics.”
Exhausted, Bridget collapsed into a wicker chaise and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “So there’s no way to sell without going to an exhibition?”