Day, Sylvia - Bared to You - A Crossfire Novel

His tie was the blue one that matched his eyes, and as I’d lain on his bed and watched him dress, I’d had to fight the urge to take it al off him. “Cary isn’t a chick.

But I get the point. I want to see you tonight. Can I come over after the dinner and stay the night?” Heated anticipation rushed through me. I smoothed my hands over his vest, feeling like I had a special secret because I knew exactly what he looked like without his clothes on. “I’d love it if you did.”

“Good.” He gave a satisfied nod. “I’l make us coffee, while you get dressed.”

“The beans are in the freezer. The grinder’s next to the coffee pot.” I pointed. “And I like lots of milk and a little sweetener.”

When I came out twenty minutes later, Gideon grabbed two travel mugs of coffee off the breakfast bar and we headed down to the lobby. Paul hustled us out the front door and into the backseat of Gideon’s waiting Bentley SUV.

As Gideon’s driver pul ed into traffic, Gideon checked me out and said, “You’re definitely trying to kil me. Are you wearing the garters again?” Pul ing the hem of my skirt up, I showed him where the top of my black silk stockings hooked to my black lace garter belt.

His muttered curse made me smile. I’d chosen a black short-sleeved silk turtleneck sweater paired with a decently short pleated skirt in lipstick red and heeled Mary Janes. Because Cary hadn’t been around to manage something fancy with my hair, I’d pul ed it back in a ponytail. “You like?”

“I’m hard.” His voice was husky, and he adjusted himself in his trousers. “How the hel am I going to get through the day thinking about you dressed like that?”

“There’s always lunch,” I suggested, fantasizing about a nooner on Gideon’s office couch.

“I have a business lunch today. I’d reschedule, if I hadn’t moved it already yesterday.”

“You rescheduled an appointment for me? I’m flattered.”

He reached over and brushed his fingertips over my cheek, a now-habitual gesture of affection that was tender and fiercely intimate. I was coming to depend on receiving those touches.

I leaned my cheek into his palm. “Can you carve fifteen minutes out of your day for me?”

“I’l manage it.”

“Cal me when you know the time.”

Taking a deep breath, I dug into my bag and wrapped my hand around a gift I wasn’t sure he’d want, but I couldn’t get the memory of his nightmare out of my head. I hoped that what I had for him would remind him of me and three A.M. sex, and help him cope. “I have something. I thought…”

It suddenly seemed conceited to give him what I’d brought.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” I exhaled in a rush. “Listen, I have something for you, but I just realized it’s one of those gifts—wel , it’s not real y a gift. I’m already thinking it’s not appropriate and—”

He thrust out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“You can total y decide not to take it—”

“Shut up, Eva.” He crooked his fingers. “Give it to me.”

I pul ed it out of my bag and handed it over.

Gideon stared down at the framed photograph in complete silence. It was a novelty frame depicting die-cut images of things relating to graduation, including a digital clock face that read 3:00 A.M. The picture was of me posing on Coronado Beach in a coral bikini with a big floppy straw hat—I was tanned, happy, and blowing a kiss to Cary, who’d playacted the role of a high-fashion photographer by cal ing out ridiculous encouragements. Beautiful, dahling. Show me sassy.

Show me sexy. Brilliant. Show me catty…rawr…

Embarrassed, I squirmed a little on the seat. “Like I said, you don’t have to keep—”

“I—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Eva.”

“Ah, wel …” I was grateful to see the Crossfire outside my window. I jumped out quickly when the driver pul ed over and ran my hands over my skirt, feeling self-conscious. “If you want, I can hang on to it until later.”

Gideon shut the door of the Bentley and shook his head. “It’s mine. You’re not taking it back.” He linked our fingers together and gestured toward the revolving door with the hand holding the frame. I warmed when I realized he intended to take my picture into work with him.

One of the fun things about the ad business was that no day was ever the same as the one before it. I was hopping al morning and was just beginning to contemplate what to do about lunch when my phone rang. “Mark Garrity’s office, Eva Tramel speaking.”

“I’ve got news,” Cary said by way of greeting.

“What?” I could tel by his voice that it was good news, whatever it was.

“I landed a Grey Isles campaign.”

“Oh my God! Cary, that’s awesome! I love their jeans.”

“What are you doing for lunch?”

I grinned. “Celebrating with you. Can you be here at noon?”

“I’m already on my way.”

I hung up and rocked back in my chair, so thril ed for Cary I felt like dancing. Needing something to do to kil the fifteen minutes remaining before my lunch break, I checked my inbox again and found a Google alert digest for Gideon’s name. Over thirty mentions, in just one day.

I opened the e-mail and freaked out a little at the numerous “mystery woman” headlines. I clicked on the first link and found myself landing on a gossip blog.

There, in living color, was a photo of Gideon kissing me senseless on the sidewalk outside of his gym. The accompanying article was short and to the point:

“Gideon Cross, New York’s most eligible bachelor since John F. Kennedy Jr., was spotted yesterday in a passionate public embrace. A source at Cross Industries identified the lucky mystery woman as socialite Eva Tramell, daughter of multimillionaire Richard Stanton and his wife, Monica. When queried about the nature of the relationship between Cross and Tramell, the source confirmed that Miss Tramell is ‘the significant woman’ in the mogul’s life at present. We imagine hearts are breaking across the country this morning.”

“Oh, crap,” I breathed.

I quickly clicked through other links in the digest to find the same picture with similar captions and articles.

Alarmed, I sat back and thought about what this meant.

If one kiss was headline news, what chance would Gideon and I have to make a relationship work?

My hands weren’t quite steady as I closed the browser tabs. I hadn’t considered the press coverage, but I should have. “Damn it.”

Anonymity was my friend. It protected me from my past. It protected my family from embarrassment, and Gideon, too. I didn’t even have any social networking accounts so people who weren’t actively in my life couldn’t find me.

A thin, invisible wal between me and exposure was gone.

“Hel ,” I breathed, finding myself in a painful situation I could have avoided if I’d dedicated any of my brain cel s to something other than Gideon.

There was also his reaction to this mess to consider…I cringed inwardly just thinking about it. And my mother. It wouldn’t be long before she was cal ing and blowing everything out of—

“Shit.” Remembering that she didn’t have my new cel number, I picked up my desk phone and cal ed my other voice mail to see if she’d already tried to reach me. I winced when I heard that my mailbox was ful .