Almost Naked, Inc. Read online

  “If you didn’t know me back then, would you want to be friends with me now?”

  “Definitely not.”

  She laughed and bumped his shoulder. “Be serious, Matt.”

  “For a kids’ game of Truth or Dare?”

  “Okay, forget Truth or Dare. Just answer the question.”

  “A lot of time has passed and we’ve been out of touch. Our lives are at opposite sides of the spectrum. I guess the truthful answer is that all you’ve achieved is not who you are, so I’d say yes. I would want to know you now, the woman who can make a man drop to his knees.”

  “It’s really too bad I can’t come over tonight.”

  He nodded. “It was great to see you, though. Maybe we can hook up next time you’re in town.”

  “Definitely. I’m not sure when that will be. I’ve got something in the works that may keep me busy for a while.”

  “The price of fame.”

  “A high price,” she said, smiling.

  He backed away from her as if he were reluctant to leave. When he reached the stairs, he turned away from her and climbed them.

  “Matt,” Bridget called, starting after him.

  Without thought she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. In that moment, peacefulness settled over her, as if she were swimming in a deep, warm pool. She held on to him tightly and experienced joy—an instantaneous feeling. It was like the warmth of homecoming, impossibly poignant and completely wonderful. Bridget could barely breathe.

  Matt’s arms slipped around her hesitantly; he was clearly as surprised as she. Then his hold tightened and it felt so good to be hugged against him. She released him and looked up into his smiling handsome face and felt a sizzle along her nerve endings, something electric.

  She grabbed a handful of his shirt in her fist, getting serious fast.

  She already knew firsthand that Matt was a good kisser, but the thought that he may have gotten better over twelve years almost made her knees buckle.

  She could almost thank all those women he’d practiced on. Almost.

  She used his collar to guide him down to her waiting lips. He was gently demanding, his big hands having moved from her shoulders down her arms, then back up again to finally cup her cheeks.

  It seemed to her that he held her as if she were made of spun glass, fragile and ethereal as if at any moment he would wake and she would disappear; he kissed her as if she was the only woman in the world that mattered.

  Thinking about how it would be if she was ever lucky enough to get this close to Matt again filled her fantasies to bursting. She wasn’t disappointed as she sank into his mouth, her hand resting against the curve of muscle right below his heart.

  Threading her fingers through the thick, silky hair at the nape of his neck, she felt the kiss slide from warm into hot and devouring. Her tongue swept into his mouth and tangled with his tongue, and she tasted the pure, unadulterated sensuality that was so much a part of him. She shivered, unable to stop the slow, sultry ache spreading through her belly.

  He moved closer, one of his hands shifting to cup the back of her head to hold her in place, and she felt a low growl rumble up from his chest. He slanted his mouth across hers and took control of the embrace.

  Presumptuous and dominant, he kissed her with potent male heat. Branded her with the strength and depth of his passion. Excited her with the heated stroke of his hand on her bare back underneath the sport coat, and the promise of forbidden, illicit pleasures to come.

  When he broke the kiss, she sighed softly. “Twelve years was way too long to wait for a kiss like that.”

  “And how. When I got your aunt’s invitation this morning, I wondered if you even remembered me.”

  “I remembered you. I couldn’t ever forget how good you were to me. I’ve missed that terribly.” She brushed his face with the backs of her fingers. “We can’t really deny this, can we?”

  “No, but I’m not sure we can do anything about it.”

  “You’re not interested?”

  “Yes. I’m definitely interested, but, be serious, Bridget, you live in the fast lane and I very much like the slow lane. I don’t think it would be a good idea,” he said, his eyes apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, Matt.”

  “I think you’re very focused on your career and there’s probably very little room for anyone else. Truthfully, I don’t want to take the risk. It hurt last time, Bridget. Even though I have an explanation as to why you never called me back. It still hurt.”

  “I understand. It was very good to see you.”

  “You, too.”

  He disappeared through the French doors and Bridget blinked back sudden tears. The one person on this planet she would never want to hurt was Matt. But he had been—through her mother’s callous actions. Now Bridget wished she had made some attempt to contact him, though maybe deep down she realized that a romantic relationship wouldn’t work and they could both end up getting hurt.

  Matt was right, she was very focused on her career and although she wanted to satisfy her curiosity about how hot Matt was in bed, she wouldn’t.

  It was safer this way.

  For both of them.

  FRIDAY MORNING after her plane landed, Bridget slipped out of the cab she’d hailed, directing the driver to Park Avenue South where CosmoCity Models had their agency offices. She was right on time for her ten o’clock appointment with her agent. She made her way to the twenty-second floor and entered through a glass door into the stylish reception area.

  On her flight and all the way from the airport she couldn’t stop thinking about Matt. She tried to relegate him to the past, but she couldn’t seem to. She wanted to see him again, she couldn’t deny it. If only she hadn’t kissed him again. Remembering his mouth, the heat of him, made her attraction to him intensify.The receptionist waved at her as she walked by. Making her way into the back offices, Bridget passed by the boards, a wall of plastic pockets housing hundreds of composites of all the agency’s working models. The boards were separated into different categories—the high board where supermodels commanded the largest fees with recognizable names and faces; the working board for commercial models who worked steadily in catalog, advertising, television and editorial; and the sophisticated woman board where older models’ bookings included catalog and advertising featuring young moms.

  Glancing at them briefly, she hoped that her composite would soon move from commercial to the high board with the anticipated contract for major designer Richard Lawrence soon to be announced. He’d picked her portfolio out of many that the agency had sent him and she’d gone on a go-see two weeks ago. He’d been thrilled with her look.

  She turned away from the boards and continued to her agent’s beautifully appointed office with a prime view of New York.

  Leslie Dawson looked up as Bridget walked in. “Right on time, Bridget. Have a seat.”

  Okay, she was brisk. That wasn’t a good sign. No questions about her aunt’s birthday or her trip to Cambridge. The one thing she could be sure of with Leslie was that the woman was straightforward and never glossed over anything.

  “We got the contract from Richard Lawrence.”

  A sense of accomplishment washed over her and, she had to admit, relief. This Woman of Substance campaign to launch new classic, hip clothes could be her ticket to the big-time. “That’s great, Leslie. When do I…”

  “Bridget. The offer is for Tracy Morgan.”

  Everything inside her clenched. Young, perky Tracy Morgan, who seemed to be getting every break that came along recently. “Tracy? I didn’t know she was up for this job. I thought they wanted me.”

  “Seems Richard changed his mind. They want a younger woman, early twenties.”

  Bridget was so stunned, adrenaline flowed into her bloodstream. With buying the loft, this came as a big ugly shock.

  “You haven’t been earning as well as you had in the past, Bridget. There was talk of placing you on the sophisticated woman board, but
I pointed out that you have several covers in your portfolio and should be allowed to continue on the commercial board for now.”

  Trying to quell a swell of panic, she said, “The sophisticated woman board. You mean the washed-up board.”

  “We don’t call it that.”

  “That’s what it is,” Bridget insisted.

  “That’s not what it is. Young mothers are commanding a large segment of the market now and since you’re a savvy businesswoman…”

  “Yes, I know what that means. They have more buying power.”

  “Everyone has to adjust for market trends—designers, agents and models. We all want a piece of the pie. You’re now in your late twenties and have been with CosmoCity for ten years. Modeling doesn’t last forever.”

  “I know that, and I’m not quite ready to give up yet.”

  “That’s a good attitude. It’s not a bleak outlook by any means. You know how this business works. Your look just wasn’t right for Lawrence. I’m going to contact Maggie Winterbourne’s camp. I heard they are keeping a lucrative campaign under wraps. Let’s see what I can find out.”

  Bridget cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the tight lump there. Maggie Winterbourne was the cream of the designer crop. Getting a contract there would boost her career and her ego, which was quite bruised right now. “What’s the next step?”

  “Your contract with Kathleen Armstrong comes up for renewal next month. It’s to your advantage that you were never typecast. You’ve also carried more than one contract at a time. Unusual for this business. That could very well happen again. It’ll take patience and time. I’ll contact Kathleen’s rep and get a new contract negotiated.”

  “Kathleen isn’t on the same playing field as Richard Lawrence and certainly not Maggie Winterbourne.”

  “I know you’re disappointed, Bridget. I don’t have any bookings for you next week. Why don’t you take some time off and rest.”

  “You’re aware I gave up the lease on my apartment and bought a loft. I have to be out of my apartment by Friday. I don’t want to rest, Leslie. I need to work.”

  “I understand, but worrying isn’t going to make it happen and it’ll show on your face. If I get any work for you, I’ll call. I’m on your side, Bridget.”

  “I know you are, and thanks.”

  BRIDGET ENTERED the photographer’s studio to see Tracy Morgan posing for the camera. She couldn’t help wishing the little contract-stealing wench would trip and break her ankle. No, make that her neck.

  She went into the dressing room and came face-to-face with Kathleen Armstrong.Kathleen’s eyes widened in confusion. “Bridget? I’m surprised to see you.”

  Bridget set down her bag on the makeup table. “Why would that be? I’ve been booked for this shoot for some time. Has something happened?”

  Kathleen walked over to the door and closed it. “I guess the word didn’t get to you. I’ll have to speak to my assistant. I don’t need you today.”

  Bridget stared at Kathleen, alarm paralyzing her for an instant. With her heart hammering hard against her breastbone, she said, “I see.”

  The significance of what was finally going on penetrated. “Look, I want to get my bad news all in one gulp. Did you give this job to Tracy?”

  “Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking that I need a younger model. It’s nothing against you, Bridget, but you know how the world works.”

  Swallowing hard, she said, “Youth and beauty.” She also knew exactly what Kathleen was going to say next.

  “Right. I’m afraid that I won’t be renewing your contract, as well. Of course, you’ll be compensated for the rest of your current one.”

  Even though she expected the words, her heart stammered in her chest, a frisson of unease shivered up her spine and her legs suddenly felt weak. “I figured that part out.” Bridget gritted her teeth and reached out her hand. “Thanks for everything, Kathleen.”

  “You’re a very professional person, Bridget. I’ve had models scream at me when I fired them.”

  Feeling as if there was a scream climbing up her throat, Bridget nodded, turned and left.

  BRIDGET, I WARNED YOU about spending so lavishly,” Naomi Carlyle, her CPA, said, sliding her report over to Bridget across Bridget’s coffee table.

  Bridget looked through all the numbers and the accounts and sighed, her heart heavy. “So I’m broke.”Naomi’s expressive green eyes filled with sympathy. “Pretty close to it. You’re going to have to be very careful with your spending.”

  The sympathy only made Bridget more determined to weather this and turn it around somehow. Frustration gripped her hard, giving her tone a sharp edge she rarely used. “Oh, damn.”

  “What?”

  “The loft. I still have to be out of my apartment by Friday.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Naomi’s serious eyes captured Bridget’s. “I have an idea for your loft, though.”

  “Please, anything that will help.”

  “You could rent it out furnished. Just move your furniture into the loft. Do you have someone you can stay with?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I have an aunt in Cambridge.”

  “It’s not ideal, if you’re trying to get modeling jobs, but doable. The drive is only about three and a half hours.”

  Bridget got up and paced to the windows that held a nice, if not exceptional view of the city. The loft she’d bought did have an exceptional view and someone else was going to enjoy it. Her nerves shot after the day’s revelations, she leaned her head against the glass. “That’s not everything.”

  Naomi groaned from her seat on the couch.

  “I just threw a very lavish party for my aunt.”

  “Then, my friend, you’d better get yourself a job, pronto.”

  Those words echoed in Bridget’s head the following morning. Unable to stay still, she paced from room to room. She needed to find a job and she wasn’t sure after what happened with Kathleen if she still had an agency to go to. But that blow would be too much to take right now. She’d face that on Monday when she had to face moving into a loft she wasn’t going to be able to live in and finding a tenant.

  She wasn’t used to money problems. Her mother had provided for her until she was working on her own. But she couldn’t ask her mother for money. She couldn’t let on that she was broke and her career was on a downslide. Bridget didn’t believe for one moment that she couldn’t get herself back on track. It would take work, but she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.

  She was afraid of only one thing.

  Failure.

  3

  BRIDGET FINISHED UP her fiftieth lap across her aunt’s pool, trying to release some of her pent-up anxiety about how she was going to pay the mounting bills from her aunt’s party. She’d arrived last night after a week of taking care of moving her furniture into her new loft, finding a tenant to fill the space and pestering Leslie for work.

  Nothing had materialized and Bridget was in just as much financial hot water as she had been a week ago. She chafed at the inactivity and her aunt, tired of her pacing, had told her to get into her swimsuit and release some of the tension.It was just now that she was beginning to realize how much she missed that special, nothing-to-hide friendship she’d shared with Matt.

  With that in mind, she got out of the pool and headed to the patio where she slipped into the hot tub. Nothing like a soak in hot water to soothe her muscles and mellow her out.

  She closed her eyes to shut out the brightness of the early-morning summer sunshine when she heard a lawn mower in the distance. Bridget got out of the tub and walked over to the lounge chair, reaching for her towel. While she dried the excess water from her hair and body, the lawn mower sputtered and died. Dropping the wet towel onto the lounge, she donned a hot pink cover-up over her swimsuit.

  Walking to the edge of the patio, she shielded her eyes against the hot sun, but Matt wasn’t in his backyard.

  She walked around the side of her aunt’s house and fin
ally saw Matt. He knelt on his front lawn, the lawn mower turned upside down.

  He had on a white muscle T-shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts that showed off his sleek thighs. Bridget found her gaze inexorably drawn to him, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his arms, across his back and down his thighs rippled and bunched as he worked on the mower.

  He was a gorgeous, earthy, sexy man—even when he was covered in grass and sweat—and her attraction to him was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard she tried. So, she looked her fill, let her mind wander down dangerous roads, and imagined seductive scenarios that made her heart race and her body ache to be near him. But those fantasies dancing in her mind inevitably turned to a soul-deep wanting.

  It was then that Matt looked up and saw her. She caught the surprise in his eyes, then a fleeting glimpse of the heat and hunger that smoldered in his amber eyes.

  “Hey,” he called, “I thought you went back to New York.”

  She came forward until she reached him. “I did.”

  He fiddled with the blade of the mower. “For a visit?”

  “Not exactly.” Her voice must have given her away because Matt stopped fiddling with the machinery and looked at her.

  “Are you all right?”

  The concern in his voice brought strong emotion swirling inside her, making her long for simpler days where nothing existed but their special friendship.

  But the real world did exist, and hers consisted of a life that was fraught with serious problems, ones she was determined to overcome. A life Matt didn’t understand here in the small town of Cambridge. A life she’d fought for and sacrificed so much for. Her accomplishments made her who she was. If she wasn’t a model, what was she?

  Knowing all this didn’t stop Bridget from wanting more of Matt Fox, more of the emotional connection she experienced only when she was with him. Beyond their physical attraction, he made her feel, and it had been a long time, if ever, since anyone had touched her heart so profoundly.