Almost Naked, Inc. Read online

  She materialized in the doorway. “You bought me a toothbrush.”

  “You were contemplating the toothbrush purchase?”

  “It’s just that it’s so sweet and thoughtful that you would care enough to make me comfortable while I’m here.”

  “I do want you to feel comfortable.”

  She came out of the bathroom and went to slip back into bed, but someone knocked at the door.

  Grabbing up Matt’s dress shirt, she shoved her arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up. “I’ll get that. You stay here.” Taking her purse, she dashed out the door.

  Matt thought he was going to be hard-pressed to keep up with her and he got out of bed, grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went downstairs.

  Bridget was just finishing up with the purchase and she brought the brown paper sack toward him. “Hey, let’s have a picnic in the living room.”

  Matt pulled pillows from the couch and lined them up against the edge of the fireplace. Bridget served up the food onto plates, poured the soup into mugs and brought it over. They settled down to eat.

  “It’s too bad it’s too warm for a fire.” Bridget forked up a bite of chicken and rice and chewed.

  Matt nodded. “My parents liked to have a fire every night in the winter. I used to fall asleep to the smell of wood smoke. That smell always makes me think of home.” Matt took a sip of the egg drop soup, savoring the rich broth.

  “You are the most grounded person I know and you’re so content with that.”

  Matt shrugged. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not. I can’t sit still long enough to know if I would like it. I like being on the go.”

  “You would have to like that lifestyle to do what you do.”

  Bridget moved closer to him, her bare thigh rubbing over his. Enticed, he enjoyed the tactile stimulation. She cupped the back of his neck and kneaded.

  “We’re opposites, Matt. We just have a great time together.”

  “I know.” He shifted fully against Bridget, giving her a faint smile. “We have to find a middle ground.”

  Bridget picked up an egg roll, dipped it into duck sauce and offered him a bite. He took it. She dipped it in again and took her own bite. Wiping her mouth on a napkin, she said, “I hope that’s possible.”

  Matt nodded. “I hope so, too.”

  Silence settled over them. Feeling no need to break the cocoon of tranquility, Matt pulled Bridget into his arms and held her as they drowsed together, his hand stroking along her thigh. Sated, he sighed.

  He could see this working out. How peaceful and full their lives could be. He had his teaching and research that would sustain his mind. When he got home, he’d have Bridget to stimulate him body and soul.

  Matt broke the silence. “Are you asleep? Do you want to move upstairs?”

  “No, I was thinking. Believe me. It’s not easy to use your brain after mind-blowing sex and good food.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “My next step. The swatch campaign isn’t working. Designers have such a demand for their time, so that’s not really much of a surprise, but I was hoping for a better response.”

  “Things will work out. I think you need to give it more time.”

  “I don’t really have more time. I need to get back to New York.”

  “Why do you feel such pressure to be back in the city? Maybe distance from modeling will give you a new perspective on what you really want to do.”

  She swiveled against him. “What I really want to do? I know what I want to do.”

  “I’m just saying you could look at your options.”

  She met his gaze. “I have to go back. Anything else would be admitting defeat. I’m not going out like that.”

  “You haven’t failed. You won the Miss National pageant and worked in the business for twelve years, Bridget. Not many models last past twenty. Have you thought about doing something else with your talents?”

  Bridget got up, picking up the empty plates, and moved away from him. “I love modeling—the traveling, the clothes, the limelight. I don’t want to give it up for something else.” She moved toward the kitchen and put the plates in the sink.

  “What about us?”

  Matt followed with the glasses and soup bowls, setting them in the sink.

  “You’re asking me to choose?”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that, but I don’t see how I’ll fit into your life, Bridget. When you put yourself into something, you go all the way. You have a demanding lifestyle that requires you to be flexible, travel.”

  “I can’t talk about this right now. Everything with my life is up in the air. I was straightforward with you all the way. I realize that you like to plan everything, but, Matt, sometimes that’s not possible. Let’s just take every day as it comes.” Bridget gathered up the used containers and put everything into the brown paper bag the meal arrived in and dumped it in the garbage.

  He took a deep breath. “I do like to plan everything. It’s ingrained. I’ll try to be patient.”

  She crossed the room. Cupping her face in her hand, he realized, not for the first time, how readily she was able to look past the surface with him. She smiled despite the concern still coloring her gaze. “That’s all I ask,” she intoned, the scent of her hair stirring his senses.

  He kissed her, mostly because he couldn’t be this close and not. But also because he felt a need to seal things between them.

  When he finally lifted his head, she traced her fingers over his lips. As her arms came down, she hit her purse with her elbow and knocked it over. It landed with a thud against the wood of the table and a white card fell out, floated down to the floor near his feet.

  He bent to pick it up. “What’s this?”

  Bridget glanced at it as she picked up the items that had spilled onto the table and the floor. “It’s a business card from Clarice Wentworth. She owns that boutique downtown. Very upscale. She wants one of my dresses in every size and I couldn’t say no. I have to figure out how much to charge, though. This is so new to me.”

  “It was a smart idea to wear the dress in public, giving every one a sneak peek one-woman fashion show of your own.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Wearing the dress in public…”

  “No, the fashion show part. Matt, that’s a great idea.” She kissed him full on the mouth and in a flash she headed up the stairs. She called out. “You are a genius.”

  He had to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with her. When he got to his bedroom door, she already had his drawers open. Pulling out a pair of his shorts, she slipped them on. Next she wiggled into one of his T-shirts and bent down to retrieve the sexy sandals and slipped on the spiky heels.

  “Bridget? I thought you were going to stay?”

  “I can’t, not tonight. Sorry, but I pledged to do a job for you. I’ve got to get to Naomi and figure out how I’m going to pull this off. I need a theme and models and lighting,” she mumbled to herself as she gathered up her dress.

  She kissed him on the way out the door and then she was gone. It was only moments later that he heard the front door open and close.

  She was energy personified and her whole face lit up when she was on the trail of an idea. He had to admire her for taking a concept and running with it. He was pretty sure that Bridget really knew nothing about hard-core business. But he’d bet she could have been quite the marketing executive if she’d wanted to go back to school. In fact, he was sure that Lesley University had a program.

  He would mention it to her. Now that he’d found her again, he didn’t want to lose her. Going to school would give her options. It would also keep her here in Cambridge and give them a fighting chance at making this relationship work. The solemn moment in the car came back to him and dread tightened his gut.

  It had to work out. He wouldn’t accept anything less.

  BRIDGET’S HEART POUNDED as her heels click-clacked against the pavem
ent. Why hadn’t she thought about organizing a fashion show before? Bridget had numerous contacts and New York was only three and a half hours from Cambridge. This could work.

  The whole day and evening with Matt had been wonderful, until they’d gotten onto the subject of her going back to New York. She loved him very much, but she could not fail. She wanted to make the decision to leave modeling, not because she had no other choice.She wouldn’t be a little washed-up nobody.

  Overwhelmed suddenly with her emotions, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her hand on her abdomen. She turned to look back at Matt’s house, such a place of refuge for her, both in her childhood and now. She took a deep breath.

  She didn’t have time to waffle or let her unpredictable emotions slow her down. She mentally put them in a box and deliberately closed the lid. Now was the time to think and plan to accomplish what she set out to do.

  Bridget burst into the house and ran for the phone. Naomi answered right away. Ignoring the knots in her stomach, Bridget smiled and said, “I’ve got a great idea. Those bolts of fabric will not be sitting in that storage unit we rented for too much longer.”

  “What’s your idea?”

  “A fashion show.”

  Naomi gasped. “Are you crazy? We don’t even have enough clothes to show at a fashion show. Where are we going to get models? You’re crazy.”

  Bridget’s smile was so wide it strained the corners of her mouth. “No I’m not. I’ve thought about this and I’ve got the perfect answer. BQU.”

  “Oh, my God.” Naomi burst out laughing. “You are the cleverest person.”

  “Let’s call an emergency meeting.”

  They set the meeting for 9:00 a.m. the next morning. The six members of the BQU filed into her aunt Ida’s house with Naomi on the speakerphone. After they were seated and refreshments served, Bridget brought up the idea.

  “Oh, honey, you will have to let me help you do the sewing. I make all my own costumes and I’m the perfect person as the dresser and backstage manager. I have experience.”

  “We all know that, Danny,” Betty Sue called out.

  Everyone laughed and the planning got started in earnest.

  “What about models?” Naomi asked.

  “I think we have that covered. Ladies?” A murmur of agreement and pleasure circled around the room like a wave.

  “After all we are Queens with stunning shapes,” Betty Sue said with her unique drawl.

  “Have you thought about what type of fashion show to stage, Bridget?” Danny asked, reaching for a flaky croissant from a silver serving tray on the coffee table.

  “What do you mean?” Lacy Cuthbert, the Mall Queen, asked with a frown. “Isn’t there only one kind?”

  “No,” Bridget said, smiling at the perky blonde. “There are really four different types. The production show involves singing and dancing, not possible for us. There’s the formal runway, but I don’t think that’s the way to go, or, of course, the video, too impersonal. I think the informal show is going to be the best choice. I’ve already called the Bowden Gallery and talked to Sheila Bowden. She has tons of space at her gallery. It’ll get patrons in to look at the art she offers and let us show off our fashions.”

  “What’s an informal show?” Beth Lambert, the African American Queen asked.

  “Is it like in the mall where women walk around and show off the clothes?” Lacy asked.

  “Bingo,” Bridget said. “Sheila said we could set up tables and offer it as a tea. I’ve already come up with what I think is a great title, but we can debate it if you all don’t agree.”

  “Tell us, Bridget,” Danny chided.

  “Cheesecake.” A lot of head bobbing and smiles all around made Bridget think she had a winner. “Since we’re offering mostly lingerie, à la cheesecake, I thought it would be a novel idea to do little round cheesecakes as dessert with a choice of topping. What do you think?”

  “It’s fabulous, Bridget,” Danny said. “What do you mean by mostly lingerie?”

  “I want to showcase the fabric in that venue because it’s perfect for lingerie, but I also want to show the versatility of the fabric by using it in other fashions. Dresses, blouses, et cetera.”

  “Gotcha, sister.”

  Bridget rose and handed out copies of a calendar with deadlines. “Now the time frame. I’ve found out from a contact in New York that there will be a Fashion Trade Show at the Boston Convention Center starting June 27. That’s a Wednesday. I thought we could offer preconvention entertainment.”

  All the women and Danny looked at each other. “That’s a week and a half away. Where’s the sewing machine,” Danny said. “We’d better get started.”

  “Wait a second,” Bridget said, picking up her planner. “First we have to delegate each job.” She distributed another handout to each of the members. “I’ve come up with a list. Danny, as you said, you have experience with stage management, so I’m putting you in charge of lighting and staging. We need to be mostly concerned with the placement of the tables to make sure the models can get around them easily, since we won’t have a formal stage.”

  “Check.”

  “Also, you so graciously offered to handle the dressing which I am grateful for. As a model, I know how important timing is.”

  “Glad to do it, doll. We Queens have to stick together. If you need additional help, my friends from the show would be glad to assist.”

  “Thanks, Danny.” Bridget consulted her sheet. “I’ll handle publicity and merchandise.” Bridget addressed Naomi. “If you could handle the models and rehearsal, Naomi, that would be great.”

  “Can do,” Naomi said.

  “I thought we could all deal with the invitations and selling the tickets.”

  “Why don’t we give them away for free?” Lacy asked.

  “Oh no, we never offer anything for free in the fashion world,” Bridget responded. “I thought we’d donate what we collect on the tickets to one of Sheila’s worthy artists.

  “Also, ladies, I’ve made up cards with all the pertinent information we’ll need to make clothing in your size. Please fill it out and if you’re not sure, I have a measuring tape.”

  Bridget concluded, “Ladies, I can’t thank you enough for pitching in and helping. I fully expect to compensate you all for your time. I’ve got applications and…”

  “That won’t be necessary, Bridget,” Betty Sue said, coming to stand next to her, wrapping her arm around her and giving her a squeeze. “The BQU has pledged to help a Queen in need.”

  How was she ever going to leave these wonderful people when it came time to go back to New York?

  Best to keep that emotional box closed, too, and move ahead.

  13

  “DANNY, I CAN’T THANKYOU enough for all that you’ve done. These garments have turned out beautiful. It’s hard to believe that the show is this afternoon.” The days had whirled by as Bridget, Naomi and the BQU got involved in every aspect of the show. Danny came by almost daily, squeezing in the sewing and the fittings.

  “Oh, honey, it’s my pleasure. But the pieces are lovely because of your design, not my sewing.”Bridget got up from the makeshift table and picked up a gift box on the bed. Her bedroom had turned into a beehive of activity. She’d rented a table and another sewing machine so that she and Danny could work side by side on her designs. “I wanted to give you this for all your help.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, sweetie.” He opened the box and pulled out the blouse she’d made for him, the one he’d admired on her the first time they’d met.

  “Oh my,” he breathed. “It’s simply exquisite. Thank you, Bridget.”

  The look of joy and admiration on his face made Bridget feel wonderful. She looked at all the clothing hanging on a rack up against her bedroom wall and satisfaction whispered over her, settling deep into her soul. She had to admit that nothing in her life compared to this feeling.

  “I was thinking, Bridget. I would be happy to sew those d
resses you need for Clarice.”

  “You would?”

  “Now that everything is done for the show, I know I’ll miss it. I just love to sew.”

  “I’ll have to pay you for it, Danny. I wouldn’t feel right about you doing it for free.”

  “I can live with that, sweetie.”

  “Good.”

  Naomi came into the room smiling. “We’re sold out. I sold the last ticket ten minutes ago. We have a full house.” She high-fived Bridget.

  “That’s great,” Bridget said. “I think Wednesday is a perfect day for an afternoon show. Over the hump day.”

  Bridget’s cell phone rang and she flipped it open.

  “Bridget, it’s Leslie.”

  “Leslie. What’s up?”

  “You are. I got a call from Maggie Winterbourne. She’s named you as the model she wants to define her Independent Woman campaign. She’s quite impressed with your accomplishments.”

  Bridget’s heart squeezed painfully. Matt. How was he going to take it? She couldn’t think about that right now. It was hard enough just dealing with the news that she was going to model again. “I’ve been hoping for this kind of a break for a long time. This is amazing news.”

  She looked at Danny and Naomi then covered the receiver. “I got the contract with Maggie.”

  Danny whooped and Naomi grabbed Bridget and hugged her.

  “She wants you in New York tomorrow to take care of the preliminaries. There’s going to be television spots, runway work and an intensive magazine spread. She wants to start shooting on Monday in Los Angeles to start off. Then after that, there will be Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas and then back to New York. Can you swing that?”

  “I sure can. I’m thrilled, Leslie. Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t me, Bridget. She was quite impressed with you the night she met you at Rags. Good going, girl. Looks like you hit the big time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Leslie.”

  She spent the next few minutes basking in her friends’ praise, feeling relief that she’d finally gotten what she tried so hard to achieve. Her mother would be so proud.