Almost Naked, Inc. Read online

  “It’s true.”

  “And the Richard Lawrence contract?”

  “I’m in between jobs and Matt offered me a lot of money to help him out. I couldn’t say no.” Bridget was talking really fast. He hoped her strategy worked because he felt a sneeze building and didn’t know how long he could stifle it.

  “Yes, you could. You haven’t seen this boy in more than a decade and now every word out of your mouth is Matt this and Matt that. How could you let him interfere with what’s important in your life?”

  “And what is that?”

  “Your modeling career, that’s what. It’s everything you dreamed about. Everything you worked for. Don’t throw it away on a man. I had to give up…”

  “Mom, please I’ve heard the story about how you got pregnant at sixteen and had to marry Daddy. Then he died and left you alone with a child. Matt’s job is only temporary, I promise. The first chance I get I’ll go back to modeling. Now, I really have to go. I will call you.”

  Her mother sniffed and Matt saw her feet turn in the doorway. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did, Bridget.”

  “Yes, I understand. I’ll call you soon.”

  Mrs. Cole headed for the stairs and he heard their voices get fainter as she walked her mother to the front door.

  He wiggled out from under the bed and stood, sneezing and trying to muffle it. Adjusting his disheveled clothes, he intended to join Bridget downstairs. Just as he reached the bottom step, the door swung open and Mrs. Cole entered.

  “You! I knew it. I can see where my daughter’s head is. I knew you were trouble back then.”

  “Where’s Bridget?”

  “Sounds like she’s on the phone.”

  Matt was at a loss as to what to say to Mrs. Cole. Sure he had some choice words for her, but it wasn’t the right thing to get between Bridget and her mother.

  Mrs. Cole walked up to him and poked him in the chest. “Watch your step, mister. My daughter has plans. So don’t think you can mess them up.” She gave him one last poke before exiting the house.

  Matt rubbed at the spot where she poked. He should heed Mrs. Cole’s words. She was right. Bridget wasn’t planning to be his CEO forever. It was a temporary situation. But he knew that once she got the business up and running, he could find someone to take over.

  Matt swore beneath his breath, regret in his soul. He had been experiencing the best sex of his life and the woman wasn’t real. Sure Bridget was flesh and blood, but she would return to her world. The pressure her mother put on Bridget was nothing compared to the enormous pressure Bridget put on herself. And now she was pushing at his carefully controlled life. Getting him mired in a confrontation with her mother, making him lose his focus. He’d gotten into a nice rhythm and letting his passions rule him was not conducive to maintaining and protecting his privacy.

  Bridget came back into the room, her hair mussed and her eyes crackling. “I’m so sorry,” she said when she saw Matt’s face. “What happened?”

  “Your mother. Part two.”

  “Oh God. What did she say?”

  “That you had plans and that I couldn’t mess them up. So, um, I guess I’ll go. Let me know if you need to discuss the business in any way.”

  Bridget grabbed at his arm and Matt felt the buzz her touch caused all the way down to his groin.

  “My mother’s a crazy woman, Matt.”

  “That may be true, but in this respect, I think she’s right. Look, we don’t need to complicate matters here. You’re doing me a favor by building my business. I appreciate that very much.”

  “What about our friendship? I don’t want to lose that again.”

  “Sure, Bridget. We can be friends, if that’s what you want, but I’ve really got to get back to my research.”

  She let go of his arm. “I’m sorry, Matt. I know that I came back into your life like a tornado and I really didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  Damn, why did the woman have to look so dejected? He just couldn’t stand it.

  Not thinking of the repercussions, he gathered her against him, holding her tight. “I will always be here for you, Bridget. Who else can you turn to, if you can’t turn to your friends?”

  “I’m just beginning to realize that, Matt.”

  She looked up at him and quite literally he was lost in her eyes. It took sheer willpower not to lean down and take that soft, trembling mouth. “You’d better get in the shower if you’re going to pick up your consultant. What’s that all about, anyway?”

  “I needed…help,” she said and dropped her eyes as if that was a terribly embarrassing thing to say.

  He gently cupped her chin and brought her head back up, thinking how great it was that stoic, image-conscious Bridget was changing right before his eyes. “You seem to think there’s something wrong with needing help.”

  “There is. A person can really only depend on herself. No one makes me. I make myself.”

  “So what does that mean? That you’re not allowed to make mistakes. Dammit, Bridget, your mother’s brainwashed you into thinking you have to be perfect all the time. What gives her the right to walk into your aunt’s house, come into your room and chastise you about your choices? Don’t you give a damn about your privacy? She violates it every time she turns around. It’s not right. You should be able to make your own choices without censure.”

  “I do make my own choices and I resent the fact that you think I don’t have any backbone when it comes to my mother. You don’t know what I’ve been through the last twelve years, so don’t make judgments you don’t understand.”

  “I understand what’s important to you. Making it. That’s all there is to you. But do you really know what it is? Do you even know what you’re pursuing? What you’re giving up in the pursuit? When it will be enough?”

  She turned her angry face up to his, “I’m going to be late. We’ll have to discuss this later.” She pulled out of his embrace and headed back upstairs.

  Matt stood there for a minute. His anger pulsed through him. Maybe he was beating his head against a brick wall. She couldn’t see how her mother’s influence was driving her toward something he wasn’t sure Bridget knew herself.

  It was a losing battle. Keeping his heart distant from Bridget was a fool’s errand. He couldn’t do it. Lately, she’d never been far from his thoughts. He’d fantasized about every night, too. But the bottom line was that he liked her a whole hell of a lot. Maybe too much. Maybe it bordered on love.

  So maybe he couldn’t keep his heart distant because she already had it. Bewildered, he turned to go.

  Food for thought. He hoped he didn’t choke on it.

  THE MINUTE BRIDGET saw Naomi emerging from security at Logan, she rushed forward. The fight with Matt fresh in her mind, she needed something else to occupy her thoughts.

  She didn’t kowtow to her mother’s needs and whims. She fulfilled her own desires. Matt didn’t know what he was talking about. She cared for him deeply, but it was the same tune he’d played over and over as she was growing up.Naomi dropped her bag and threw her arms around Bridget.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  “I can’t thank you enough….”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We have work to do.”

  “Right.”

  Once in the car, Bridget asked, “How was your flight?”

  “Fine. Short.”

  Bridget stopped at the toll booth and paid.

  “Maybe you could explain what kind of hole you’ve dug for yourself.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “Bridget, cut the crap, okay. If we’re going to work together, I have to lay some ground rules. First one is no bullshit. You tell me everything. I’m not going to broadcast your personal business to anyone. We’re friends, right?”

  Naomi’s matter-of-fact tone almost made Bridget laugh. “Check. No bullshit.” The bright day darkened as they entered the Callahan Tunnel that took them under the Boston Harbor. Bridget didn
’t like to think how many gallons of water were on top of her as she drove.

  “Secondly, I must have a constant supply of caffeine—and no instant. Fresh brewed coffee and keep it flowing.”

  This time Bridget laughed. “Caffeine, check.”

  “Hey, coffee is no laughing matter.”

  “Sure, check, no laughing.”

  Naomi snorted, losing the cool she was trying to project. “There can be no laughing about coffee. Other forms of mirth are okay.”

  When they reached the outskirts of Cambridge, Naomi said. “This is the city that is home to Harvard and MIT. It’s beautiful.”

  “I’ve always loved Cambridge.”

  Bridget slowed to ease around a MBTA bus dropping off passengers.

  She pulled up to her aunt’s Victorian and Naomi sighed. “I love the city, but it’s so nice to get out once in a while.”

  “Let’s get you settled in the guest room and introduced to my aunt, then there’s coffee to brew and work to get done.”

  “Check,” Naomi said and they both laughed.

  BRIDGET RUBBED at the back of her neck and glanced at the door as if it were her salvation. She’d been cooped up with Naomi now for one full day. She looked at the clock and it read eleven. They had already incorporated, or more accurately filled out the incorporation paperwork online. Naomi was quite versed on all aspects of incorporation and she had said that Delaware was the perfect state for their new business for many reasons.

  They had just finished discussing all the legal ramifications of incorporating, most of which had simply gone over Bridget’s head. God, she was tired. She gazed out the window and could see that Matt’s light was on in his bedroom. She wondered if he was sleeping or maybe reading. She wondered if he was still mad at her.“Bridget!”

  Bridget turned her attention back to Naomi. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering.”

  “I can imagine. But it’s time to start on the mission statement.”

  Bridget groaned.

  “I know, this is all cut-and-dried stuff and you’ve got a creative mind, but it has to be done. Now let’s get down to business.”

  Bridget decided she never wanted to hear those words ever again.

  It took them about half an hour to come up with a mission statement. “So the mission of Almost Naked, Inc. is to provide high-quality fabric at a reasonable cost for the manufacturing of high-quality garments offered to consumers. Sounds pretty good,” Bridget said.

  “Okay, now that we have that, it’s time for the business plan.”

  Bridget bolted for the door and Naomi came after her. “Wait a second. I knew you were going to get squirrelly on me, so I have a proposition for you.”

  Bridget eyed her with suspicion.

  “How about some midnight margaritas and we forget about the business plan until tomorrow?”

  Bridget smiled and shoved Naomi. “You are bad. You weren’t going to make me do a business plan tonight.”

  “Nope. That will take us most of the day tomorrow.”

  “I’m going back to New York and beg every designer there to take me on.”

  “Come on, Bridget. It won’t be that bad.”

  “Yes it will.”

  “Think about margaritas for now. Let’s go.”

  They went into her aunt Ida’s kitchen and Bridget got out the blender while Naomi pulled the ingredients together.

  Naomi said, “When preparing a margarita you only need to know three things: salt/no salt, what style and which alcohol.”

  “Easy for me. Salt. Frozen. Tequila and triple sec.”

  “Works for me.”

  Bridget plugged in the blender and Naomi added the ingredients. Turning it on made a whirring sound, the ice cubes loud in the quiet house.

  “I hope this doesn’t wake your aunt.”

  “No, she sleeps like a log.”

  They poured the drink into glasses and Bridget took her first sip. “Good.” She sighed.

  Naomi nodded as she swallowed her own drink.

  Bridget said, “Hey, let’s soak our muscles in the hot tub.”

  “My bathing suit is upstairs and I don’t have the energy to get it,” Naomi said, taking another sip of her drink.

  “Who needs a bathing suit,” Bridget said with a mischievous grin and proceeded to take off every stitch of clothing.

  Naomi went for the kitchen light, giggling like a fool. “What if the neighbors see us?”

  “Then we’ll turn them on their very proper Bostonian ears, won’t we? Come on, Naomi. Live a little.”

  “Okay.” She removed all her clothing and giggled again. “This is crazy.”

  Bridget went into the laundry room and snagged two fluffy towels from a stack her aunt Ida kept there for use with the hot tub. They went out the back door and it took Bridget a few moments to open the top and turn on the tub.

  Bridget and Naomi lowered themselves into the hot water with a sigh. For a few minutes they luxuriated and drank their margaritas.

  Finally, Naomi said, “So how’s your love life?”

  “I hooked up with someone I knew when I was a child. He’s sweet. He teaches at MIT.”

  “Seems like this would be a good town for the brainy types. Lots of black socks, though.”

  “Is that supposed to make sense to me?”

  “I have a new theory about the opposite sex. I like to come up with them every now and again. I feel I need a scorecard to tell if a guy is a winner or a loser. My new theory involves socks.”

  Bridget had just taken a drink of her margarita. She sputtered, swallowed some of the concoction and started to cough and laugh at the same time.

  “No really,” Naomi said as she patted Bridget on the back. “At first, I thought that the way to find out what you wanted to know about a guy was to scrutinize his wardrobe, but sometimes that can be deceptive as anyone could have bought him that stylish jacket. Then I thought his choice in footwear was the key. But this theory is getting harder to prove. It’s tough to buy ugly shoes these days, and with the excess of fashionable sneakers everywhere you look, it’s pretty hard to figure out what these footwear options may say about their wearer.”

  “So it’s all about socks now?”

  “Yes, I think it all comes down to socks.”

  Bridget laughed. “I see your point. People think that others don’t notice their sock choices. Believe me, people, you do have a choice. You really should use your best judgment.”

  Naomi nodded enthusiastically, grinning like a loon. “Exactly. Take for instance, white socks. They should never be worn with dark pants. They stick out like a neon sign. And, please, athletic socks were not meant to be worn with everything. Doing so shows a lack of style and just plain laziness. Leave them in the gym where they belong.”

  “My turn,” Bridget said, scrunching up her face. “It’s anal to match your socks with your dress shoes, and men who match socks with pants show way too much thought about their wardrobe.”

  Unable to stop laughing, Naomi said, “Tennis socks should only be worn while playing tennis.”

  Bridget piped in. “And those socks your mother gave you for your birthday with the Garfield print on them should have gone to charity five minutes after you got ’em. Let them go.”

  Naomi bent over, spasming with laughter. “And, finally, the infamous black socks. I think wearing them shows that the guy is probably very traditional. Unless they are worn with sandals and that’s just plain wrong. He probably still lives with his mother.”

  Between peals of laughter, Bridget said, “I don’t know, but have you found the right sock guy?”

  “Not quite yet, but I know what I don’t like. I guess I’ll have to keep searching.”

  They sat in companionable silence until Naomi polished off her drink. “Look, I’m going to turn in. I’m bushed. I’ll come and get you bright and early tomorrow, so don’t even try to lock your door.”

  “Okay.”

  Naomi grabbed her towel and scooted
into the house. Bridget sat in the hot bubbling water letting the kinks bake out of her back and shoulders.

  After a few minutes, she heard footsteps and sat upright, reaching for the towel.

  “Bridget?” Matt materialized from the darkness and he looked at her naked, glistening body.

  She moved to the edge of the tub and looked down, smiling when she saw that Matt didn’t wear any socks at all. He was barefoot and sexy.

  Softly, Bridget asked, “What are you waiting for?”

  7

  HE HAD TRIED TO RESIST when he’d seen Bridget’s friend head into the house. She hadn’t returned and Bridget hadn’t gone into the house, either. He looked at his watch and noted it was after midnight, late for a hot tub party.

  He chastised himself. Even after their disagreement this morning regarding her mother, he wasn’t smart enough to leave her alone and let her get his business off the ground for him.The more she intruded into his life, the more privacy he lost—but this was Bridget. And the real deal was so much more interesting than the fantasy in his mind.

  So now he was standing here while she gazed at him with a soft look on her face and her eyes slightly glazed from fatigue and he would guess alcohol.

  What was he waiting for?

  Intervention in some form.

  “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” She pouted, her generous breasts pressed up against the wooden tub, her blue eyes masked by her thickly lashed lids. “I think you overreacted with my mother.”

  Matt couldn’t answer. The strength of his attraction to Bridget was overpowering.

  “Okay, if you’re going to stand there and not answer me, could you be a doll and get me another margarita?”

  He laughed then and shook his head.

  “What is so funny about margaritas, Matt?”

  “I’m not laughing at margaritas.” He moved forward and took the glass out of her extended hand. “I’m laughing at you.”

  He heard her huff as he walked away into the house, fighting to get his attraction under control. He picked up the pitcher to see it was empty and proceeded to chuckle some more as he made a fresh batch. Grabbing an extra glass and the blender pitcher, he headed back outside. Just as he got to the door, he stopped and walked back into the laundry room and snagged himself a towel.