Page 21 of Tempting the Player
Her friend snorted as she shrugged on a black peacoat. “You don’t have extra layers of protection, Bridget.”
Confusion crossed Chase’s features, and Bridget bit back a giggle. “I have no idea what you two are talking about,” he said.
“Trust me,” Bridget replied, grinning at Madison. “Keep it that way.”
Heading down the main cluster of cubicles, she vainly ignored how her friend slowed down to an ant’s crawl when they passed Robert McDowell’s desk. It was common knowledge that the numbers guy had a thing for Bridget. He was nice and good-looking, but Bridget was more turned on by her polka-dotted vibrator than Robert.
And Chad—she had been really turned on by him, which proved she had no common sense, but at least her vagina was still fully functioning.
Robert was missing a certain element. An element that even Bridget had a hard time naming, but knew it would speak to her when she saw it. Sad thing was when she met Chad at that damn club a month ago, it really had spoken to her with a bullhorn.
She’d taken two steps and Robert’s head popped out from behind drab gray walls. His blond hair was a bit shaggy, framing a boyish face. “Hey there, Miss Rodgers…” His gaze dropped. “New shoes?”
If only she was attracted to him, Robert would be perfect. He noticed things like shoes. “Why, yes, I got them a week ago.”
“Very nice,” he said, sitting back. “On the way to lunch?”
She realized he might’ve been hamming for an invite and so did Madison, who was already opening her big mouth. “Thank you,” she cut in quickly. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
She hurried past, feeling like one giant bitch for doing so, but she’d rather feel that way than lead the guy on or end up in an awkward moment where he inevitably asked her out and she gave some lame excuse like she was washing her cat’s hair that night.
In the elevator, Madison turned narrowed eyes on Bridget. “You could’ve invited him, you know.”
“I know.” She folded her arms.
Chase leaned against the wall, tipping his head back. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because—”
“Because Robert likes Bridget,” Madison explained, finishing up the buttons on her jacket. “And Bridget likes pens.”
“Pens?” Chase echoed.
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Pens are by far more stimulating than most people.”
“I’m kind of wondering what you’re doing with those pens,” Chase said.
Madison scrunched up her nose. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“My mind is always in the gutter around you.”
And there they went again, inching closer and closer, arms going around each other, kissy sounds and all. Bridget closed her eyes and let out a low breath. Being around them was like standing next to two horny teenagers.
Damn, she was jealous.
The elevator couldn’t move fast enough, and she was surprised Chase and Madison didn’t end up having sex in the thing. A bit of the glass walls were fogged up, though.
Brisk November wind cooled Bridget’s cheeks as they dodged businessmen carrying briefcases and tourists with fanny packs. Off in the distance, the Washington Monument rose like one giant…phallic symbol.
Men and their architectural toys…
Weird looks were sent their way, ones that either Madison or Chase ignored or didn’t see, but Bridget saw every one of them. A red cardigan typically didn’t go well with a pink-and-white-striped skirt and colorful heels and white tights, but Bridget’s oddball fashion sense wasn’t anything new. More like a reject from the eighties to be exact, but she’d always been this way, throwing clothes together, mix-matching designs like a trendy Euro-trash designer.
Her mother believed it was some kind of psychological misdirection enabling Bridget to protect herself from getting hurt. Eye. Roll. She just liked colors and really wished her mother were in any career, even stripping, instead of psychology.
Nothing beats getting diagnosed over Thanksgiving dinner.
Halfway there, Chase dug out his cell and chuckled, drawing both their attentions. He texted something back and then bent down, brushing his lips across Maddie’s forehead.
