Almost Naked, Inc. Page 14

  She thrived on chaos and Matt was overwhelmed by it.

  She had embarrassed him tonight and she felt so sorry for it. She hadn’t thought it through. The heady feeling of posing naked, the power and beauty of a body she saw no reason to hide bothered him.

  His independence was gleaned from silence and deep thought, working in his lab isolated from people and noise. She, on the other hand, found her independence in expressing herself, giving herself truly body and soul to the moment and wringing everything out of it.

  They were polar opposites.

  Feeling sick at heart and knowing in her soul that once she left Cambridge she would have to leave Matt behind, she pulled away from him. Slipping out of bed, she picked up her dress and underthings and dressed quickly.

  Downstairs, she let herself out of Matt’s house. Just as silently, she let herself into her aunt’s.

  “Bridget? Is that you?”

  Bridget froze at the front door, her aunt’s voice coming from the kitchen.

  “Yes. It’s me,” she responded.

  Setting her sandals on the stairs, she entered the kitchen to find her aunt sipping hot chocolate and working a crossword puzzle.

  “You’re up late?”

  “What time is it?”

  “About midnight.”

  “Good grief, is it? Did you have a wonderful time?”

  “It was wonderful. Sheila Bowden sketched me. She plans to use my form in a series of charcoal drawings.”

  “The consummate model, huh?”

  “I guess. I like the attention.”

  “You were always a demanding little girl. Whenever you went off the diving board, you always yelled, ‘Watch me, Aunt Ida. Watch me.’”

  Bridget laughed. “That’s me, the ham.”

  “If you really did have such a wonderful time, why do you look so sad?”

  “It’s Matt. We’re…um…dating.”

  “And that makes you sad.”

  “No, Matt’s great. It’s just that we don’t quite see eye to eye on certain things like posing naked. He wasn’t too thrilled.”

  “He’s always been a quiet, mysterious person. Not surprising. His mother was always hovering over him as if she thought he would break.”

  “Matt’s tougher than anyone would ever think.”

  “How about you, sweetheart. How are things? Really?”

  Bridget pasted a smile on her face and answered automatically, “They’re fine. I’m moving forward with my plans to market Matt’s fabric. Soon he’ll be established and I can get back to New York.”

  “I’ll be sorry to see you go. Don’t make it so long between visits, huh?”

  “I won’t.”

  “What will happen with Matt’s business, once you’ve gone back to New York?”

  Bridget looked at her aunt. “What?”

  “When you go, who will run the business?”

  “I don’t know. I really didn’t think about it.”

  “I guess you should think about it.” Her aunt turned back to her crossword puzzle. “Good night, Bridget.”

  “Good night, Aunt Ida.”

  BRIDGET THREW HERSELF into Matt’s business, calling designers, making more garments out of the fabric, mostly to keep her mind busy. Time ebbed and flowed. Monday came and went and the week flew by. It was soon Saturday and time for her mother’s garden party.

  She hadn’t had a chance to see Matt. Their busy schedules didn’t mesh. Maybe he decided he didn’t want to go, after all. She should ask just to make sure.She walked over to his house, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw his car in the driveway. Her mouth dry, she knocked on the door. How ridiculous she was being, but she wanted to see him, hear his sexy voice. He didn’t come to the door, and Bridget twisted the knob, finding the door unlocked.

  He was probably immersed in something and had tuned everything else out. She wouldn’t bother him, but she needed an answer. Who was she kidding? She wanted to see him.

  She pushed the door open and called out, “Matt!”

  “Upstairs,” he replied.

  He sounded sexy and distracted. “Hey, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “You’re not. Come up.”

  When she reached his room, he was sitting in the big chair by the window, a sheaf of papers in his hand and his laptop on his knee.

  “You look busy.”

  “I was just finishing up an article for a journal submission. No biggie.”

  She took a deep breath, feeling as if she was asking the cool guy to the prom. “Good. I was wondering if you still wanted to go to the garden party today. I will understand…”

  He set the papers down. “And leave you to the mercy of your mother.” He shook his head. “No way. I’m going. Besides I bet they have good food there and I’m starving. I didn’t have any breakfast.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad.”

  “Bridget?” His voice got rough.

  Bridget braced herself, not sure why. “Yes.”

  He looked down at the computer and swallowed. “Have you stayed away because you wanted to or because you think I need space?”

  She moved forward as he closed the laptop and set it beside the chair. Now that she was closer, she saw the lines of tension around his eyes, the corners of his mouth. Funny how quickly she’d learned his face, how easily she spotted even the tiniest difference. “I think you need space.”

  “Space is for astronauts. I miss you.”

  “Oh Matt,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. He looked away from her.

  “No. It’s true.” When he shifted his gaze back to hers, the only word she could come up with to describe his expression was…lost. “I know you’re going back to New York, but you’re here now.”

  “Yes,” she smiled.

  “So let’s not waste time, okay?”

  Her smile dimmed a little as she stroked her fingertips over the back of his hand, surprised at how deeply she felt the need to touch him, reach him. “All right, but you’ll let me know if I’m messing up your schedule.”

  He smiled then and relaxed a little. “To hell with my schedule.”

  She sat back. “I’m just a big mess maker, aren’t I?”

  He tugged her forward, then kept on tugging until she stumbled and fell into his lap. “Yes, you are and distracting and beautiful and sweet and complicated.” He easily arranged her sideways and lifted her arms around his neck.

  “I like being messy.” She ran her fingers along the side of his face and he turned into her touch, pressed his lips into the palm of her hand, then cupped her face and pulled her into a kiss.

  Considering his mood, she’d expected something needy, slow, exploratory. Instead it was fierce, hard, consuming. It took her breath away and the rest of her conscious thoughts followed. And when she thought he couldn’t take any more, he plundered deeper, demanded more. And she gave without question. His hands moved over her body. Her hands did some exploring of their own.

  When he finally tore his mouth from hers, her shirt was half-undone and his hair was a tousled mess. He said nothing, just pressed his forehead to her cheek as he held her close while their breathing steadied. She stroked his hair, his neck, his back, collected herself as well, even as her thoughts raced ahead.

  In the short time they’d been together, she felt like she’d really come to know him. Understand him. And yet this was a part of him she hadn’t expected. Something deeper, more emotional, more…complicated.

  When she would have leaned back to look in his eyes, he held her in place, kept her tucked against him. He turned his face so he could nuzzle her hair. “I’m beginning to like messy, too,” he said with surprising emotion.

  “But it’s not something you’re accustomed to.”

  “No.” He pulled in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “I’m used to caution. Thinking things through. My parents never expected to have children. So, when I came along, they worried about everything. My mother was overly protective. Un
fortunately, nothing was mine alone. My parents had to know where I was, what I was doing, what I was getting into, everything. I retreated inwardly, protected myself. You’ve been the only person I’ve let get this close to me.” He took a deep breath. “That’s why Emily and I didn’t last. I wouldn’t open up to her and she hated it.”

  “Why is it different with me?”

  “It just is. Like I said, you have this way about you that just gets past my defenses. I can’t explain it.”

  “I feel the same way about you, too. We’re shaped by the people around us,” she murmured, thinking about her mother, the pressure to always make her happy. Her priorities had been ingrained into Bridget. “My mother can be difficult, but she pushed me to succeed which I guess could be a double-edged sword. Everything I did was about the pageants until I lived, breathed and ate them.” She lifted her shoulder. “That way of life became my way of life.”

  She stroked his face, and then lifted his chin until their eyes met. “But we’ll always have this connection between us.”

  He nodded then shifted to look at his watch. “That party’s in an hour, so I guess we’d better get ready. If you’re late, she’ll blame it on me.”

  Bridget grinned and nodded. “Can I drive the coupe?”

  “What? Didn’t you just tell me you were messy? I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let you drive.”

  She made a face. “Right, messy, not reckless.”

  He tugged her down, his kiss slow this time, and exploratory. She relaxed against him, and wondered if she’d ever get tired of this, of him. She didn’t think so. A shame they were so suited for each other this way, and not in any other way. If only they’d met under other circumstances.

  This way leads to insanity, Bridget. And she couldn’t deny that, given half a chance, she’d start trying to figure out some way to mesh his stoic lifestyle with her need for the limelight. Her real life didn’t fit with him, though. Reuniting with Matt had been good for her in a lot of really wonderful ways that only began with the best sex she was ever likely to have. Better for her sanity to just shut up, and enjoy it while it lasted. Beat the hell out of never having it in the first place.

  Matt ended the kiss on a sigh. “Hmm. Reckless and messy seem the same to me.”

  Bridget shifted in his lap. “Come on, Matt. Pretty please.”

  “I can’t resist you.”

  BRIDGET WALKED BACK over to her house, lucky to get out of Matt’s house with only tousled hair and a shirt she had to tuck back in. If she was late for her mother’s shindig, there would be hell to pay.

  The phone was ringing as she opened the front door.It was Naomi.

  “The Web site I set up got some hits but, all in all, there has been a dismal return on our investment and we’ll have to come up with a better plan.”

  “Right. You know, Naomi, I need someone to take over this business once I get it on its feet. You see, I never planned to actually run it. I was hoping you’d be interested.”

  For a moment Naomi was silent. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I’m dead serious.”

  Naomi squealed. “I would love to take over. I love the fabric and I have so many plans. The fabric you ordered is going to be ready soon. We’ll have to find a place to store it.”

  “We’ll figure it all out.” It was discouraging that the swatch campaign didn’t work. She’d have to put her mind to something else.

  Naomi disconnected and Bridget went up to her room to get dressed. Feeling suddenly sad, she tried to identify why.

  She sat down to freshen her makeup, but found that her eyes started to tear up. Blinking the crazy tears away, she dabbed at them with a tissue.

  This was a silly display. She had to go back to New York. She had to make it there. Anything else would be a straight-out failure.

  She shook her head. She was feeling blue because she would be able to go back to New York any day now. The business was progressing, in spite of the swatches, and her bank account was now quite hefty with the generous salary Matt paid her. She’d miss Naomi and Aunt Ida.

  She’d miss Matt.

  God, how she would miss him.

  11

  BRIDGET STARED at the house that she’d grown up in, the rush of driving Matt’s Porsche through Cambridge and up the oak-lined driveway fading.

  Built in 1894 the house sat overlooking the Charles River with a fantastic view of the Boston skyline in the winter when the leaves were off the trees. The name River House was lettered in black over the door and obviously came from the spectacular view of the river. The brick walkway leading up to the house was framed by oak trees and flanked by lawns. Bridget couldn’t see it, but she remembered the beautiful private garden, accessible from several locations in the home. Enclosed by fencing, surrounded by a bluestone patio and lovely plantings, including rhododendron, azalea, Japanese maple and holly, with the added heated pool centerpiece, the house was made for garden parties.She’d walked those gardens for the sheer beauty of the blossoms and the fragrance, feeling everything melt away.

  The Colonial Revival residence, with its distinctive bowfront facade, was one of the grand houses in the neighborhood. Her mother wouldn’t have it any other way. A showpiece of a house was very important to her, unlike her father, who cared more about teaching his students at Harvard, unaffected by his inherited wealth and his social-climbing wife. The three-story residence, which had been carefully renovated by her mother, featured spacious rooms, high ceilings. Each principal room featured a fireplace, adding up to a mind-boggling fourteen, with approximately eleven thousand square feet of living space for two people.

  She took Matt’s hand and started up the brick path. As they stepped into the grand foyer, her mother walked out of the reception hall where Bridget could see many people bellied up to the wet bar.

  “There you are, Bridget. What a lovely dress you’re wearing. Is it from Paris?”

  Bridget smoothed down the mesh overskirt sewn with her big flowers in rich pastel hues from baby blue to deep blue. The bodice and underskirt was made from a vibrant blueberry dupioni silk. “No. I…made it.”

  “Did you?” Her mother frowned and gave Matt an unfriendly look. “From his fabric?”

  “Just the overskirt. The rest is dupioni silk. I’m just trying different patterns and uses for the fabric.”

  “I see.” Disapproval showed in every line of her face. “Well come in and mingle. Everyone is here, including the mayor’s wife.”

  As they walked through the living room to the doors leading to the rear gardens, Matt whispered, “If looks could kill…”

  Bridget giggled and nodded.

  “The dress is stunning by the way.”

  She turned to look at him. “Thanks, charmer.”

  He grinned, but it soon faded. “Emily.”

  Bridget turned to find Matt’s ex-wife. The woman was as impeccably dressed as she had been that day at Matt’s.

  “Matt.” She looked expectantly at Bridget and her forehead creased. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “Bridget’s a model,” Matt said bluntly.

  “Oh, that must be it. Emily Wadsworth, Matt’s ex-wife.”

  “Bridget Cole, Matt’s lover.”

  For a moment there was utter silence and then Emily laughed. “You’ve gotten yourself a live one here. That surprises me. It was a pleasure to meet you. Gorgeous dress.”

  Something about her expression set off alarm bells in Bridget’s head.

  Emily moved on in the crowd and Bridget turned to watch her go.

  “Bridget, do you have to be so blatant?”

  “She started it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She acted all possessive. I didn’t like it.”

  “Possessive? She and I are divorced and we’ve moved on with our lives.”

  “You might have, but I’m not so sure about her. A woman can sense these things, trust me.”

  “You have nothing to worry about.
I’m going to get a drink at the bar. Do you want anything?”

  “A Cosmopolitan, please. Make it a double.”

  MATT THOUGHT HE WOULD explode with the amount of pent-up energy that seemed to have been building since the night he’d watched an artist sketch Bridget’s beautiful body.

  “Scotch, straight up and a Cosmopolitan, make it a double, if you can.”“I can guess which one is for you.”

  He turned at Emily’s voice. “I need a drink.”

  “Parties always did tax your social skills or is it the beautiful Bridget?”

  “It’s none of your business, Emily.”

  “That was the problem with our marriage, Matt. Nothing about you was my business. But I didn’t come over here to discuss our failed relationship. I’m worried about you.”

  The bartender set the amber liquid down in a heavy cut-crystal glass next to the elegant Cosmo. Matt picked up the Scotch and downed its contents. “Why would you be worried about me?”

  “Bridget seems like a nice person, but I bet she’s also very ambitious. I don’t think she’ll be amenable to being slotted into your life. Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t recognize her from that On article. She’s no more a CEO than I’m a bimbo. You’re the smarts behind that facade. God forbid you should be exposed in any way.”

  Matt narrowed his eyes. “Look, Emily, I’m a big boy and I can take care of myself. Thanks for your concern, but it’s unwarranted.”

  “Is it? I think probably this was the woman that was always between us. I think you’ve always been in love with her. A woman like that naturally brings notice. Watch out, Matt, she’ll bring your world crashing down.”

  His mouth went dry. Damn women and their ability to see things so clearly. His gut clenched, hard. He’d had a week to contemplate what life would be like without Bridget. He felt almost desperately giddy when she’d checked to make sure he was still going with her to the Garden Party.