Almost Naked, Inc.

by Karen Anders

  “Bridget, why don’t you take some time off? You look tired. Everything is in place for this afternoon,” Naomi suggested, picking up the garments piled on Bridget’s table and placing them on the rack.

  “I’m fine. I’ve got a few more things to do.”

  “No, we can handle it. Why don’t you go over and see Matt. Tell him the good news. I think he’s feeling neglected.”

  Her heart competed with her stomach to see which could squeeze more tightly. “He has been neglected. I’ve only managed to have a couple of quick dinners with him in the last week.”

  “Then get.”

  The preparations had taken a toll. She needed to see Matt desperately. Denying herself the pleasure had been the most difficult part of the fashion show preparation.

  When he opened his door, he gave her a big smile. “Hey. You got a break?”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her mouth and she sank into his embrace, marveling how his touch could make her melt, make her desperate for more. Suddenly, without warning, her eyes stung.

  When he raised his head, she said, “Yes. I did and I wanted to spend it with you.”

  “Lucky me.” He frowned, looking down into her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Bridget smiled, even as the ache inside her grew.

  “Are you sure?” He captured her wrist and pulled her over to the kitchen table. “I wanted to show you something. I picked these up for you.”

  He handed her glossy brochures and a booklet. “What are these?”

  “An application and information from Lesley University. I thought you might be interested in marketing, since you’ve done such a great job with my business—”

  “Matt.” She touched his arm. “I got a contract with Maggie Winterbourne. She’s a major designer. I’m going back to New York tomorrow. I’ve already talked to Naomi. She’s shifting most of her CPA practice to an associate to work for you. It’s her dream job. She loves it and wants to stay.”

  “And you don’t.” He looked away. “What about us, Bridget?” he said, his voice cracking.

  Her heart was coming apart with every word he spoke. “We can work it out.”

  He took her by the arms. “How? On weekends? That’s not the kind of life I want with you,” he said with a quiet calm that belied the storm in his eyes.

  “I just need time to see this through.” Bridget knew she had to be strong, be rational, not give in to the emotion that swirled inside her.

  “Until when? Until you get another contract, or become famous? What do you want me to do? Just forget about you? Wait around for the phone calls, the e-mails?”

  “Matt. I don’t have the answers right now. I need to take this contract. It’s everything I’ve worked for.”

  “I love you. Doesn’t that mean a thing to you?”

  “Yes, it does, but I think we can make this work if you’re open-minded about it.”

  “You want the limelight more than you want me. That’s what this is all about.”

  “I want to make it in the profession I chose. Don’t you think I don’t know how lopsided this relationship is? You made it. You’re a successful professor at MIT with patents and inventions and something real. I want you to think of me as an equal and that’s hard to do when you think what I do is meaningless.”

  “I didn’t say what you do is meaningless.”

  “No. Is that why you picked up college brochures? People go to college to better themselves.”

  “I wanted you to have options.”

  She stepped back, staring at him as if she didn’t know who he was. “Oh God, my mother was right. You do look down at me from your lofty academic perch. I don’t need this. I’ve got enough of my own fear and doubt, Matt. I don’t need you judging me. If you’ll excuse me, I have a fashion show to manage.” Turning on her heel, she left his house, carefully closing the door behind her.

  When she got home, she entered the house and the activity was at an all-time high. Closing her eyes and shoving everything she was feeling into that emotional box she carried around with her, she locked her pain and disillusionment inside.

  Rolling up her sleeves, she entered the fray. They had a fashion show to put on and fabric to sell.

  That would be her focus and her lifeline to keep her from breaking down completely.

  THE AIR WAS FILLED with a fine-tuned anxiety. Bridget peeked out at the audience seated at tables draped with cream damask tablecloths with fresh fruit centerpieces.

  The caterer had arrived on time, but had forgotten the toppings. It was a tense thirty minutes while one of her employees ran back to get them.Everything was in place. Danny had come through with his friends, two funny guys who had all the models laughing to break the tension.

  Naomi walked up to her. “The fashion editors are seated in the front like you asked and we have a full house of buyers, designers, press and excited citizens.”

  “Great. We’re almost ready to begin. Did you see Matt?”

  “No, not yet. Are you okay?”

  “Matt and I had a major fight and I think we’re over.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Bridget turned and hugged her. “You’ve been great through all this. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. I never knew what I was missing until I met you and the BQU.”

  “This is a dream job come true, but I’m going to miss working with you.”

  “I’m going to miss you, period,” Bridget said.

  Just then soft music filled the air and the conversation died. Waiters started serving the small rounds of cheesecake on fine cream china, while another waiter went around to the served tables to ask which topping the ladies preferred.

  Bridget gathered up her commentary and made her way to the small podium set up in the corner of the gallery. She tested the mike to make sure she had sound and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the telltale microphone noise.

  She laid her papers down and turned on the small light. As she stood there waiting for the din of serving to die down, she felt a calm come over her, seep into her bones and make her feel as if somehow she was at home.

  It was then she saw him, standing near the front door dressed in a pair of dark slacks, open-necked shirt and a sport jacket. His hair was tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it. Their gazes met and locked. Bridget felt an overwhelming sense of love followed closely by one of loss. The calm she had achieved shattered into a million pieces and she had to fight to keep her feet in place. She wanted to run to him, fall into his arms and make the world dissolve. But she couldn’t do that and their differences in lifestyle, not to mention their dreams, now stood between them.

  He smiled at her and she smiled back as he took a seat in the back at the same table as Clarice Wentworth, the shop owner who had ordered dresses Bridget still had to deliver. But thanks to Danny, that was a done deal.

  With a shock, she realized that his ex-wife was also sitting at that table, watching their exchange with interest, looking as if she had her own personal agenda. Bridget’s stomach knotted and her palms dampened with perspiration.

  She took a deep breath as the music changed. Her cue to begin speaking. “Good afternoon and thank you all for coming. You’re about to see some naughty unmentionables made from a wonderful new fabric called Almostnaked. Please refer to your program for available colors and ordering information.” The lights dimmed.

  “This halter baby doll ensemble in delicate floral lace and bold new colors makes a spectacular statement to the man in your life. And you can bet he’ll have something to say about the way this sexy piece heats up his night. Available in lemonade, hot pink, flame-red and black.”

  Two models emerged from the curtained alcove as a collective gasp came from the audience. One woman modeled the piece in lemonade and the other in black. The women took their places under the pot lights among the patrons and posed there for a moment.

  “Almostnaked is a versatile product, going f
rom lacy fabric to this piece with corset-inspired lacing up each side to play a sexy game of peek-a-boo with your curves. Daringly low in front, with slim adjustable straps, it comes in ice-blue, naughty pink, oohla-la red and basic black.”

  Another two of the BQU models emerged and the audience crooned at the pretty satiny slip.

  The next ensemble got a lot of oohs and ahhs as models came out in the large flower-inspired T-shirt and tight boxer briefs.

  Bridget continued with the presentation until they got to the two dresses she’d designed using the big flowers she was so fond of.

  A roar went up from the audience and they all started clapping as the BQU strutted their stuff in the dresses. More vigorous clapping as the models showed off, with flair, a blouse made with the same big flowers worn with jeans, trousers and dress pants to show the well-designed blouse’s versatility, and the fabric’s strong selling points—comfort, beauty and ease of movement.

  When the music stopped abruptly and the lights came up, the flashes almost blinded her as her models lined up behind her showing a specially selected piece of lingerie or clothing.

  The audience quieted down as a reporter raised her hand. “Tell us, Ms. Cole. Who is the wonderful inventor of this fabric and why is it so secret?”

  Caught flat-footed, Bridget just stared at the woman. From the back a voice shouted, “Matt Fox, and he’s right here.”

  All eyes turned toward the voice, Matt’s ex-wife. A light focused on Matt. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as flashbulbs went off in succession.

  “Please, it’s true that Dr. Fox invented the fabric, but what’s really important is how it can be used in fashions,” Bridget said, trying to get the focus off Matt and back onto her and the purpose of the fashion show.

  “So you’re nothing but a figurehead?” a reporter yelled out.

  Her stomach knotted. “I’ve been the one to market…”

  “But you’ve been fronting for the true inventor of the fabric? Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” More flashbulbs went off and Bridget backed away from the podium.

  Clarice pushed to Bridget’s side followed by two other women. Clarice blurted, “I want to place orders.”

  “For the fabric?” Bridget asked.

  “No, for your designs.”

  One of the other women held out a card. “Hi, I’m Serena Carr from Richler’s in Boston and I want to talk about stocking your creations.”

  “Me, too. Nancy Carmichael from Louis and Winston.”

  Bridget backed away. She felt a hand on her arm and she turned to find Sheila Bowden.

  “Come with me,” she said, as reporters started pushing into the back, firing questions at her in such a jumble that Bridget couldn’t understand what they were saying.

  She followed Sheila up into her studio where Danny was gathering the last of the models’ clothing and shooing them out the door. “What a coup,” he whispered to her. “I could hear the noise from up here. I’d say you were a hit, honey.”

  “Could you give us a moment, Danny,” Sheila said.

  “Sure. No problem. I’ll see you at the celebration party, kiddo. Don’t be late.”

  Bridget had almost forgotten they were going to meet at The Salt Box after the show to celebrate. Her head pounded as Sheila steered her toward the chaise where Matt had made love to her. She sank down onto the cushion. Sheila was busy in the small kitchenette while dread circled through Bridget. Matt had been exposed, his secret revealed to everyone. She had no doubt that the story of Almost Naked, Inc. would be on the front page of the style section in all the Boston papers tomorrow.

  She thought about how much he hated to have his privacy breached and now… “Oh God,” she groaned. Now, it was public. So very, very public and all because of her.

  “Here, drink this. I saw you go white out there. What’s wrong?”

  “Matt,” she said softly taking a sip of tea. “I’ve failed him.”

  BRIDGET WENT to the party and made a good showing, hiding all that she was feeling inside as easily as keeping a lid on that box. These people, who had given so generously of their time, deserved her attention and praise. They had helped make the show a smashing success.

  Naomi was inundated with orders for the fabric that would just about clear out the stock they had on hand. She’d stayed behind to call the manufacturer to start production on the orders they couldn’t fill from stock.And, the department stores were clamoring for her designs, wanting to know what she had on hand which, of course, was virtually nothing. She had to put them off because she couldn’t deal with that part of the fallout of the fashion show.

  Morning dawned after an interminable night of tossing and turning. Bridget felt miserable down to her toes. This contract should have made her the happiest person on the planet, but leaving Matt felt like torture.

  Naomi met her in her aunt’s kitchen and asked, “Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes. As well as can be expected.”

  “Have you spoken to Matt?”

  “No, not yet. I’m getting my courage up. I promised him he wouldn’t be exposed and he was. It must have been awful for him. Truth of the matter is I’m not so sure he wants to see me right now. He may never want to see me again.”

  “I can’t believe that. You’ve made his business a success. So he got a little publicity. It’ll die down. You know how the press is. They’ll soon be after someone else. You’ve gotten everything you set out to get. You should enjoy yourself. Matt will come around.”

  Bridget couldn’t agree.

  Her aunt came into the kitchen and looked at her watch. “Bridget, we’ve got to get you to the airport. You must be so excited to be going back to New York.”

  “I am, Aunt Ida. You’ve been fabulous.”

  Her aunt smiled and they hugged. Bridget’s throat closed up. She’d been able to confide in Matt and Naomi about what kind of shape her life had been in, but she’d never really come clean with her aunt.

  “Aunt Ida, I have something I need to tell you.”

  “Sure. Come sit on the porch.”

  When they were settled in the swing, Bridget took her aunt’s hands. “You’ve always been there for me, even now. I was broke when I came here. I had nothing left.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, I would have…”

  “I know. I was ashamed to tell you or Mom about my problems. I didn’t want you to see me in a bad light. I’ve done it all my life, kept everything that wasn’t perfect from you and Mom. But now, after going through all this and realizing how important friends are in my life, I absolutely realize how vitally important family is. I love you, Aunt Ida, so much and I’ll never varnish the truth ever again.”

  “I love you, too, Bridget. Nothing will ever change that.”

  They hugged again and Bridget said, “I’d better go say goodbye to Matt before I go.”

  It took all the strength she could muster to knock on his door. When he opened it, he didn’t say anything, just backed up and let her in.

  She went past him and climbed the stairs and she heard Matt come swiftly up behind her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She continued into his room and into his bathroom. She picked up the toothbrush he’d bought for her. He was right behind her. “I want my toothbrush.”

  She gazed at his reflection in the mirror and he looked so forlorn, she had to drop her eyes. She left the bathroom and walked to the telescope.

  “After getting a taste of what it’s like in the limelight, I’m more resolved than ever. I can’t live in a fishbowl,” he said, coming up alongside her and looking out the window.

  “I know, but I have to go.” Bridget bent down and looked through the telescope. “You like this world you live in. I understand that. But there’s a world out there, Matt. You look at the stars every night and wish. I want to reach for the stars and hold them in my hands. If you don’t embrace life, you can’t experience life. It’s n
othing but an observation just like looking through a piece of glass.”

  He didn’t look at her, but kept staring out the window. “When are you leaving?”

  “Now.” It was an impossible dream to think that they could carry on a relationship long-distance.

  “Matt, I’m so glad I came back and got to know you again. I don’t know what to say, except you have been the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m sorry I let you down. I really hope it doesn’t affect you at work. I know how much you wanted that tenured job.”

  When he didn’t respond, Bridget wiped at the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Listen. Your business is in great hands. Naomi will make a great CEO. Thanks for being there when I needed you.”

  He nodded. “Naomi will work out fine. Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Bridget.”

  MATT STOOD AND LOOKED OUT the window for a long time after Bridget left. She had held nothing back, and what she had given him had been real—her passion, her need. She loved him, but her need to succeed was more powerful. He clenched his jaw against the hard pressure in his chest. He closed his eyes, realizing that he’d let the best thing in his life slip out the door. But how could he have stopped her? She was hell-bent on success and she couldn’t see that it was nothing compared to what they had shared. He loved her and he had to let her go. That kind of life was not for him.

  He turned to look at the brown-paper-wrapped picture that had been delivered today. He’d bought the nude of Bridget from Sheila Bowden as soon as it was complete. All he would have of her was her likeness hanging on his wall.

  14

  BRIDGET SAT STILL, staring in the dressing table mirror while her makeup artist brushed blush on her cheeks. The woman in the mirror stared back, looking so glamorous in a chic plum halter evening dress sparkling with sequins and Swarovski crystals, Bridget almost didn’t recognize herself.

  That was the trouble these days. After Maggie unveiled her Independent Woman campaign, Bridget had become an overnight success and her life had been a whirlwind of activity and adventure for the last eight months. Bridget had everything she had ever dreamed possible—money, fame, respect in the business. Except there was something missing, something vital.“All done, sweetums,” Kevin, her makeup artist, said with one last flourish of the brush. The backs of her eyes stung. He reminded her so much of Danny.