Page 58 of Last First Date

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

Lingerie!

They wanted me to wear lingerie in front of people. I didn’t even wear lingerie in the privacy of my bedroom, and now they were asking me to parade through a room full of strangers with my tits and ass on display?

I gulped, my face burning at the thought. I was not model skinny. My legs were too short and my hips too wide. And let’s not even get started on my chest. But that director had looked at me like I was the answer to all her problems. How did she know the top would fit me? Then again, this was her business. She could look at a person and know their size.

I wasn’t sure if that was what I was going to do, but I was definitely considering it. It could be exciting. I only lived once. This was so far outside of my comfort zone, it might be good for me. As long as I didn’t have to wear heels, I could handle the job.

24

KNOX

Iwaited until Waverly was out of the room before I said anything. I couldn’t have replied before that if I wanted to. The proposition had shocked the hell out of me.

“No, absolutely not.” The words escaped my lips with a hint of anger.

The sheer jealousy running through my veins took me by surprise. It was not what I expected. I had no claim to the woman. She wasn’t mine. She wasn’t even a little bit mine. This thing I was feeling was foreign to me. I had never felt jealous a day in my life.

I came from privilege. I had a good life. I had never had a serious relationship. If a woman cheated on me, whatever.

So, this feeling I had about the idea of Waverly in lingerie was taking me by surprise. The notion is absurd, and I can’t fathom the idea of her parading down a runway in nothing but lingerie.

“It would really help us out,” the director said. “This new line is tailored for women just like Waverly. She’s a beautiful young lady.”

“I understand that, but Waverly’s primary role is to assist me. I need her help coordinating the event. She’s meant to operate in the background, ensuring the seamless execution of our projects, not becoming a spectacle for the guests.”

“It would only be for the runway portion of the event,” she argued. “I really think she would be the star of the show.”

“I don’t think Waverly would be comfortable wearing lingerie in a fashion show,” I said. “One of the reasons our company is so successful at running events is because we know how to stay out of the limelight. Our planners are ghosts. We believe in not being seen. These events are about our clients and their guests, not us.”

The very thought of strangers scrutinizing her body in such a manner is unsettling. She’s my assistant, a colleague, and the idea of her in that context is, frankly, horrifying.

I knew she would do it because it was being asked of her and she wanted to do what she could to help the client. She knew how important the job was to me and she would likely do it for me as well. She was a good assistant, dedicated to the job. She was loyal to the company. There was a lingering contradiction that was simmering just beneath the surface even as I tried to think of a good reason why she shouldn’t do the modeling thing. I had to admit there was some curiosity on my part. I did have a desire to see her curves in lingerie. It was a thought that I swiftly rejected. It was completely inappropriate to think such things about my assistant.

“We don’t have time to find another model on such short notice,” the director said. “And honestly, even if I could, I don’t think I would want anyone else. She’s perfect. She’s exactly what we want. She’s a real woman. She’s not a stick-thin, runway model with an unrealistic body. She’s got curves, and I can tell you, curves sell.”

The director’s words hung in the air like a lead balloon. Thinking about Waverly wearing something lacy was making it increasingly harder for me to breathe.

“She doesn’t have any experience on the runway,” I tried again, sounding increasingly desperate even to my own ears.

“She won’t need it. Our show is all about promoting body positivity and embracing who we are. We don’t want a trained model. We want authenticity.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my chest. Waverly walked back into the room. “Am I interrupting anything?” she asked quietly.

“No, please, come in,” the director said, smiling.

Waverly sat down, the blush was gone from her cheeks, but I could feel her unease. She looked very uncomfortable. I felt like I needed to protect her. She was my innocent little flower from Utah. This was all outside her comfort zone. She was a small-town girl.

“I’ve been telling them their offer is nice, but you would prefer to decline.”

She looked at me and that familiar defiance flashed in her eyes. I knew what was coming next.

“I would like to think about it,” Waverly said. “When would you need my decision?”

“The sooner the better,” she replied. “Just to be clear, there will be compensation for modeling.”

They aren’t going to let up. “We’ll let Waverly consider it,” I said. “In the meantime, let’s finalize the details for the event and give Waverly time to make her decision.”