you couldn’t actually see anything.
The panties – also the same deceptive material – were some kind of hybrid between boy shorts and a thong. She’d long ago quit following trends in ladies’ underwear and had no idea what the term for them would be, but they were surprisingly comfortable given the fact that they were clearly up her rear end.
There was more where these came from. Victor had handed her a pile of things to try. There had to be at least 20 sets, in a rainbow of colours.
Examining herself critically, Bridget tried to relax the muscles in her body that were clenched into knots. The problem definitely wasn’t the fit. They melded to her body as if they’d been made especially for her.
No, it was that Bridget didn’t recognise the pin-up girl in front of her. The woman in the mirror belonged in the ranks of Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe, and Marlene Dietrich. All of those classic women in satin and lace adored by the masses and tacked on walls around the country. They’d driven a whole generation of men mad with lust.
The thought made her sick. Literally.
Beads of sweat bloomed along her skin. She gripped the wall and did her best to breathe through the anxiety clawing up her chest.
‘Bridget?’ Victor’s voice reached her through the fog. ‘You coming out to show us?’
The Earth would change its orbit before she let them see her this way. No way, no how was she walking out there and putting herself on display.
Pins and needles were spreading across her flesh. She could no longer feel the wall under her palm. She felt lightheaded.
What was wrong with her? Panic choked her. She couldn’t get the words out to tell Victor to go away.
The sounds of a key scraping in the lock echoed in the small dressing room and tears streamed down her cheeks at the knowledge that Victor would discover her this way.
Black dots floated in front of her face and the room began to recede. She was going to pass out.
‘Bridget!’ Victor’s deep voice came to her from far away before strong hands gripped her shoulders and she felt herself enveloped in warmth as he sat on the chair in the corner and tucked her into his lap.
She sobbed into his shoulder. She had no idea why she was responding this way. It was just underwear, for heaven’s sake. But she felt stripped bare and exposed despite being covered in more material than the average bathing suit.
Victor didn’t say anything, just held her as she cried. Eventually, he began stroking her back and murmuring soothing noises.
As she wept, the panic receded. The numbness faded. Even her chest unclenched. Eventually, she was able to draw breath and speak.
‘This is ridiculous. Could I be more foolish?’ Her words were laced with bitterness.
‘Why?’ He seemed genuinely confused by her words.
‘I’m sitting here blubbering like an idiot over nothing more than being dressed in sexy underwear.’
‘Are you sure that’s what this is about?’ He tipped her chin up and began to wipe the tears from her face.
‘What else would it be about?’ She felt exhausted now. As if she could sleep in an instant.
‘You’d have to tell me, honey, but I will say this. Whatever is going on, it’s not about the lingerie.’ His brown eyes peered knowingly into hers. ‘It’s about vulnerability. I know you have something traumatic in your past even if I don’t know the specifics. All that grandmotherly cotton you wear, that’s armour.’
Bridget felt something break open inside her at his words and once more tears flowed. She let them come. She couldn’t have stopped them anyhow. She was just too tired.
She heard movement behind her and Victor saying something to Claire, who must have come to check on them. He obviously waved her off though, because when Bridget finally lifted her head, they were once again alone.
‘I’m sorry, Victor,’ she murmured as she attempted to right his collar which she’d soaked with her weeping.
‘Don’t be.’ He grinned rakishly. ‘I’ve fantasised about you in my lap dressed only in lingerie I designed for you.’
Her shock must have registered on her face because he laughed. It was a deep, masculine laugh that reached all the way to his eyes.
‘Look, Bridget.’ He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I know people assume that to be in my line of work, I must be gay, but I design lingerie because I adore women’s bodies and find them sexy as hell. Yours in particular is amazing. I designed all of these just for you and have been waiting for you to be willing to try them on. I’ve even fantasised about being the one to take them off of you.’
She tensed and started to rise, but he stopped her with his next words.
‘Don’t fear me, Bridget. I’m human and you’re a very desirable woman. I may have my fantasies about you, but I won’t act on them. Two damaged people make for disastrous relationships.’
Her eyes snapped to his and she saw a depth of pain there she could relate to. She relaxed into his lap.
‘Damaged?’ She wanted to ask for details. The pain she saw in his eyes was not the kind that came lightly, but she wasn’t up to reciprocating and she’d be opening the door if she did.
‘Yes, honey. You’re not the only one.’
She flinched, but he was right. She was being ridiculously self-centred.
‘Ask yourself this … Is he worth a little discomfort and vulnerability? You hide behind your cotton armour and deny your femininity. Is that want you want to do with him?’
With a soft kiss on her forehead, Victor put her from his lap and left her alone.
His words zinged through her brain; shining light on shadows she’d long ago stopped paying attention to. When her mind settled down, Bridget began trying on the rest of the items he’d designed for her.
She took in the stranger in the mirror, wondering if Connor truly was worth exposing herself this way. How could she be certain? Or, better yet, was her self-respect worth it?
On that thought, Bridget put her own clothes back on. Neatly hung up all the items on their respective hangers and stepped out into the showroom. Claire and Victor were huddled together on the sofa in what appeared to be a very intense discussion. They stopped their whispering at her entrance and looked at her expectantly.
Walking over to Victor, she handed the entire lot back to him.
‘I’ll take them all.’
Turning, she left the room. She never saw the grins they exchanged and they didn’t see her fear.
Chapter Seventeen
