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He was nearly naked, and Bridget could only assume that she had interrupted him while he was getting ready. There was a trace of toothpaste foam around his lips, but what really drew her attention was his chest. He wore only an unbuttoned white shirt, left to hang open around his wide shoulders. He was broad and thick, but by no means chiseled or ripped in that ungainly super body builder way. His legs were just as marvelous, going on for miles and never seeming to end. The muscles there were just as impressive, prominent and standing out against the evenly tanned tone of his skin.
After a few moments, Bridget registered the sound of clicking fingers in her ears. She looked up at Jack, and began flushing immediately from the collar of her dress to the roots of her hair. She was certain that, even through her makeup, the deep rosy blush staining her face was visible.
Jack was looking at her like a cat that had the door to the canary cage open. He looked ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. It hadn’t slipped past him the way that Bridget had been ogling him from head to toe.
“Might I remind you that it’s not polite to stare?” Jack mused, as he looked Bridget up and down.
Bridget nodded, and ran her fingers through her hair. It was a nervous habit of hers, always wanting to push it back and keep it out of her face. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to show up so early and interrupt you or anything like that.”
“You didn’t interrupt me,” Jack said. He finally wiped the toothpaste foam from around his mouth. “You just showed up earlier than you were supposed to. Next time, don’t do that.”
“Next time?” Bridget parroted, looking up at Jack with wide eyes. She couldn’t imagine that there was going to be a next time, she was already thinking that all of it was going so incredibly badly. “We haven’t even finished the interview yet,” she pointed out, as though Jack wouldn’t have noticed.
“Oh, I know,” Jack said with a dismissive flap of his hand. “The interview was all formal shit. Angel likes you, and that’s all that I need to know. You’ve got the job, girly. You start tomorrow at four o’clock. Don’t be early, don’t be late.”
He had begun to button up his shirt, completely disregarding the blank stare that he was receiving from Bridget. She could hardly process what she was being told, the words slamming into her so fast and leaving her breathless.
“But—I don’t…” she trailed off, unable to form a complete sentence.
In front of her, Jack finished buttoning up his shirt and laughed loudly. “Listen to you,” he teased, grin wide and wolfish. “Barely able to get a word out of that pretty mouth. Tell you what, Bridget. You head home now—you stay with my daughter, right? And you tell her that it all went swimmingly. You’re hired, I’m a great guy, and Angel’s doing fantastic.”
“Why would I need to tell her all of that?” Bridget asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Jack. It all seemed so sudden, pushing so many demands onto her. Didn’t Maggie know that Angel was happy? Why did Bridget need to reiterate.
Bridget hardly needed an answer to her question. All of the sudden, Jack’s expression hardened. He narrowed his eyes at Bridget and crossed his arms. In just a flash of a second, he had gone from calm and casual to looking as stoic and stolid as a boulder.
“Just do what I ask you, and your job will be easy,” Jack said, no room for question in his words. “If you don’t listen to what I say, you’ll be out of a job and out of that college before you know what has happened to you. I don’t tolerate people who can’t listen to orders. Are you one of those people?” Jack asked, scrutinizing Bridget with a hard stare.
Bridget stared back at Jack, although she looked more like a deer in the headlights. It was such a sudden change of heart that she never in a million years could have seen it coming. Despite how horrified she was, there was a different kind of racing in her heart. Was she… enjoying it? Bridget had never once enjoyed being bossed around or threatened, but when it was coming from Jack, it was so much different.
“No, sir,” Bridget said. “I am not one of those people.”
“Alright, alright,” Jack muttered, waving his hand at Bridget. Just like that, he was back to the playful man that Bridget had first met. “Cut that sir crap, I don’t like to hear it. Just Jack is fine. Angel is Angel, and you’re Bridget. We keep things simple in the Gordon household. You got it?” Jack asked, looking Bridget up and down.
Bridget was quick to nod. Before she could get another word in, Jack flashed her a smile and then shut the door. He nearly slammed it into her face, and she jumped back. What the heck had all of that been about? With a horrifying, dreadful feeling that she was being watched, Bridget turned around and hopped back into the elevator.
She had been expecting to be out for at least a few hours. Now, with more time in her evening than she had been expecting, Bridget only had one choice. She would head home and tell Maggie all of the good things about Jack and Angel, even if she hadn’t been allowed inside of the house.
It was strange, to say the least.
Chapter Four
That night, when Bridget knocked on her and Maggie’s door only half an hour after five, Maggie answered the door with furrowed eyebrows. Bridget understood her confusion. The interview was meant to start at five thirty, and yet there she was.
“What happened?” Maggie asked. She popped a bubble of gum and stepped aside to let Bridget into the small, cramped apartment. “Did you chicken out or something?”
“No,” Bridget said. She thought back to all that Jack had told her, and what it was that he was looking for from her. “I had the interview early, since I showed up early.”
Maggie’s eyebrows shot into her hairline as she stared wide-eyed at Bridget. “You mean that you showed up early and my dad was ready for you to be there early?” she asked, sounding rather like a broken record.
“Yes, he was ready,” Bridget replied. “Well, mostly,” she added. It seemed as though Maggie was expecting some negative characteristic from him. If Bridget made him seem too pure and pristine, the effect would be lost and her lie would be easily seen right through. “He had some toothpaste foam at the corners of his mouth,” she said.
That alone seemed to be enough to satisfy Maggie. After Bridget had entered, kicked off her shoes, and locked the door, she strolled over to the couch that she had previously been on and flopped herself down. She glanced over at Bridget, looking her up and down. She didn’t look any worse for wear. Maggie crossed her long legs, clad only in a pair of tiny booty shorts.
“How was Angel?” she asked, as though she were trying to be nonchalant about approaching the question.
What Bridget wanted to say was that her first opinion of Angel was that she was a brat. Even after finding out who Bridget was and why she was there, she had stirred Jack into a frenzy with just a few words. Over on the couch, Maggie patted the couch cushion, and Bridget knew that she was meant to join her.
Bridget walked over to her friend, feeling a little stiff in her interview outfit still. She had pulled out her best pencil skirt and her best fitted blouse. They looked nice on her, but it was nothing compared to the way that Maggie’s gorgeously, effortlessly tanned legs seemed to stretch on forever. Her hair was swooped back, reminiscent of the way that her father’s had been styled.
