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“Living up here, there aren’t many great jobs,” she pointed out. Jonas had to know that, even if he’d been living in New York for so long. “I couldn’t make a go of a shop like this just selling to local people. As for tourists—well, they’re seasonal. The design-your-own-quilt concept really took off online, and I feature our handknits on the website too. Okay, nobody’s getting rich but everybody’s doing all right.”
He looked at her as if she was somebody new to him. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“Oh, shut up.” Bridget smiled at him all the same as she shut down her computer. Somehow here in the store she felt a lot more confident than she had in her house. And talking about her business meant the conversation never got too personal. But she was glad to hear the back door bang repeatedly as the crew returned from lunch and began to fill the store again.
Mara sauntered in last, casting an interested look at Jonas, who hardly seemed to notice her. All the same, Bridget was annoyed. Gil was finishing up a small takeout container of plain rice from the Chinese restaurant, scooping it up with a plastic spoon. He waved the spoon in Bridget’s direction, his mouth too full to say hello, while he looked over the decorations that had been put up in his absence, nodding approvingly.
“You’ve been busy,” he said after the last bite went down and he tossed the container and spoon into a wastebasket. “Looks good. I can work with that. Mara, go put on that wonderful nubby sweater. I want to get going.”
“All the sweaters are nubby,” the model complained, swaying what she had in the way of hips as she went by Jonas. “The whole damn state is nubby. I’m tired of nubby.”
Bridget frowned. Whether it was because of Mara’s remark or her attempt to catch Jonas’s eye, she couldn’t say.
“Oh, hush,” Gil said a trifle impatiently. He looked at Jonas carefully. “Hm. We could use you. Is this a friend of yours, Bridget?”
Nonplussed, she didn’t answer for a few seconds. “He’s my new neighbor,” she replied at last.
“I’m Jonas Concannon,” Jonas said. “And you are—?”
Gil stuck out his hand. “Gil Blanding, the art director for Good Living. Have you ever modeled before?”
It was Jonas’s turn to look nonplussed. “Uh, no.”
Gil didn’t seem the least bit interested in finding out what Jonas actually did. He took a man-size ribbed sweater from one of the shelves and held it up against Jonas. “Wow. You have a great look. Rugged but intellectual. Harry, come here. Put on that sweater, would you, Jonas?”
Smirking at Bridget, Jonas pulled on the sweater, running a hand through his messed-up hair in a vain attempt to straighten it afterwards.
“Hey, Harry, we could put him and Mara under the kissing ball …”
The rest of the art director’s big idea didn’t register with Bridget. She was steamed, really steamed, but there wasn’t much she could do. Mara had come back out from the screened-off area that was serving as a dressing room, and the nubby sweater actually made her look curvy. But it didn’t seem to meet her high standards, because Mara was still sulking.
Her expression brightened considerably when she saw Jonas standing there in the ribbed sweater, playing the role of male model for all he was worth.
Gil reached out a hand to Mara to bring her closer—and positioned her next to Jonas. “What do you think, Harry?”
Harry, it seemed, viewed the world mostly through a viewfinder. He peered into his and waited a minute before answering. “Works for me, Gil. The guy doesn’t even need makeup. Great skin.”
Jonas faced the camera with a great big smile that made Bridget want to kick him.
“Pearly whites to die for,” Gil murmured. “Mara, cuddle up.”
The pouty model was happy to oblige. Bridget could only seethe while she reminded herself that the publicity would be great for the store and bring in extra income for her knitters.
Mara pressed her nubby side against Jonas’s rugged ribs, and Harry began to take quick shots of them. “Huh. These two might have chemistry,” Bridget heard him say under his breath.
Still and all, when she looked at Jonas, she noticed he was looking at her, not at the blond model hanging all over him. Mara might as well have been an inanimate object.
“Okay, action!” Gil said loudly. “Take two steps back so you’re right under the mistletoe. Mara, I want you to get your fingers in his hair and try to plant a big smooch on his cheek. But don’t make contact and don’t mess up your lipstick. We’re running late.”
Bridget was thankful for that. Mara puckered up. With an inward sigh of satisfaction, Bridget noticed that Jonas looked uncomfortable when Mara’s squishy, sticky, much-too-pink lips got close to his face.
Harry, staring into his viewfinder, shook his head. “Oops. We lost the magic. Jonas, try not to look like you’re facing a firing squad, okay?”
Jonas straightened and Mara’s expression got a little sour.
Harry shook his head again. “Mara, you can do better than that.”
“My lips are tired,” she whined, no longer interested in wowing Jonas.
