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Stop it, you’re not fourteen any more.
She wasn’t that kid who all the cool kids pointed at and laughed at. The one whose father was a fraudster and a conman.
‘Good. So, fun,’ Mattie said firmly, oblivious to the sudden turmoil in Bridget’s mind. ‘Good, clean fun. Then back to the serious stuff tomorrow, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Bridget paused then returned Mattie’s gentle smile with a rather sheepish one of her own. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Still a lie, but more convincing.’ Mattie grinned. ‘Trust me, Bea, we’ve been through this, they’re a nice bunch and they’ll love you.’
With that, her friend ducked into the club, leaving Bridget to follow, coming to an abrupt halt for a moment as a heavy wall of heat and sound hit her with such a wallop that for a moment she forgot how to breathe.
She watched Mattie accept the two proffered welcome jelly shots from the girl at the door, then let her friend place one in her hand.
‘Open your mouth, pinch the container, and swallow.’ Mattie demonstrated. ‘Wow. Now, they are strong!’
Closing her eyes and sending out a silent prayer, Bridget followed suit. It slid down her throat surprisingly smoothly, the taste sweet but with a kick nonetheless. Then Mattie grabbed her hand and plunged them both into the gyrating bodies.
Like Alice down the rabbit hole.
And whether it was the crowd, the music or the insanely strong shot, Bridget found her body heating up and her brain beginning to loosen its grip just a fraction. People bumped her—or perhaps she bumped them—and swept her along, as if her feet weren’t always quite touching the ground.
She was almost grateful when Mattie came to a stop in front of a small, friendly looking group who erupted into shouts and laughs, all of them jostling a little in their obvious eagerness to greet their friend. And before she realised it, they were turning to acknowledge her, too. Warmly, but not too over the top. Mattie had been right, her friends were a nice bunch, and this was actually...fun.
Right up until the moment when Mattie gave a low cry and hurled herself past Bridget.
‘Hayd. You’re here.’
Bridget turned, amused, but instead something jolted through her. Like a shock of electricity. Her body didn’t even feel like her own any longer or, if it did, she certainly didn’t have any control over it. Instead, all she could do was stand there, frozen in place like one of her teenage nightmares, her eyes struggling to refocus. To take it all in.
So, this was Mattie’s brother, the infamous Major Hayden Brigham. He wasn’t at all how she’d pictured him.
Then again, she wasn’t sure how she’d pictured him. Good looking, certainly, since Mattie had never made any bones about that fact, but Bridget had put it down to indulgence on the part of a loving sister. Hayden was apparently a very eligible bachelor—and what was more, he knew it—so he didn’t sound at all her type. If she actually had a type, that was. Still, she’d thought she’d been fully prepared for meeting him in person.
But she’d been wrong. In truth, surely nothing could have prepared any woman for the reality of meeting the guy in person.
He wasn’t just good looking—such a description was too pedestrian for a man like Major Hayden Brigham. He was...arresting—magnificent—and if there was a perfect specimen of male beauty, it was him.
Less of a man, more of a mountain, yet unequivocally male. Bridget was fairly certain she heard a collective sigh of appreciation from the female contingent of the entire club. Or maybe that was just her?
And she hated herself for it. It was so not her to lust over a man. Any man. But certainly not one who was also the brother of the closest thing Bridget had had to a best friend since she’d been a kid. Certainly not one with whom she was going to be working—out in the middle of nowhere on the African continent—for the next three months.
Well, not working with exactly. But close enough. Which was why, no matter how insane her body was going right now, she didn’t fancy him. She refused to.
Yet what was to be done when everything about him, from that crop of short yet deliciously tousled dirty-blond hair down to the jaw—so square that a carpenter could have used it to take perfect right angles—was stunning? Not to mention those Baltic-blue eyes that seemed to peer into her very soul, holding her own and making it feel as though her entire face was on fire.
She couldn’t move, could barely even breathe. She had no idea how she managed to wrest her gaze away, but suddenly it was dropping. Down over those broad, strong shoulders to which the fitted shirt clung so lovingly, and did absolutely nothing to disguise, and over the indisputably defined chest as it tapered to the sexiest set of male hips she imagined had ever existed.
She couldn’t look down any further. She didn’t dare. And so they lingered there—shamefully—somewhere around his belt buckle.
Fleetingly, Bridget considered making her escape. Rushing for the Ladies’ to douse herself with some much-needed cold water. Naturally, it was that exact moment that her friend chose to introduce the two of them.
‘Bridget, this is my brother, Hayden. Hayd, meet Bridget Gardiner, who I’ve been telling you about. Though she’s off limits, right?’
More heat—if it was even possible—rushed to Bridget’s face, even as her mouth became too parched to begin to respond. Not that it mattered, as Hayden was already speaking, his rich, deep, yet slightly wry tone doing...things to Bridget’s insides.
She needed to get a grip. Draw on some of that strength she always had in one of those refugee camps in the middle of some foreign country.
‘Thank you, Mattie...’ the low, rich voice rolled through her, despite the deep pulse of the nightclub bass line, leaving her altogether too...aware of her own body ‘...for making it sound as though I pounce on every friend you introduce me to. And, Bridget, I’ve heard a fair bit about you. It’s a pleasure.’
