Page 40 of Tempting the Player
Bridget flushed as her lips tingled. Such inappropriate timing.
“You do understand your reputation is also at stake,” Miss Gore announced.
Forcing her gaze away from photographic evidence of her attraction to Chad, she took a deep breath. “I don’t see how my reputation is affected by this.”
Miss Gore picked up the paper and her brows lifted. “Funny thing about photos is how differently they can be perceived from one person to the next, and sometimes all it takes is a different side of the story to be pointed out.”
Bridget folded her arms. “What are you getting at?”
She looked up from the paper. “My job as a publicist requires me to spin things. That’s where the whole term spin doctors comes from. And I’m really, really good at spinning things. Take this photo, for example. It looks like two people sharing a kiss. Something both of them wanted.”
“It was a mistake, but—”
“What it really was doesn’t matter. It’s all how the public perceives it, and right now they think you’re Chad’s newest flavor of the week. But what if there was a different side to the story?”
“There isn’t a different side to the story. Chad kissed me. I kissed him back.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Something I regret for several reasons.”
“There’s always a different story,” Miss Gore said. “Look at this picture—closely. See how you’re gripping the front of his shirt, by his shoulders?”
Bridget really didn’t want to examine the picture that closely. Bad enough that all she had to do was close her eyes to remember what being kissed by Chad felt like.
“You’re also pressed against him,” Miss Gore continued. “And a woman of your size has to be fairly strong.”
Slowly, Bridget drew in a low, steady breath. Like she was the size of Jabba the Hut or something.
“To me, it looks like you’re grabbing Chad and forcing him to kiss you.”
“What?” she shrieked. “That’s—”
“Celebrities like Chad do have many women—sad, lonely, and slightly overweight women—who do approach him quite often. It’s no stretch of the imagination to assume that he has a stalker or two.” Miss Gore glanced at the photo. “To me it looks like you accosted him on the street and forced yourself on him.”
Red-hot fury slammed into Bridget. “I would never do something like that! How dare you insinuate—”
“I don’t dare, Bridget. I will do it. You’ll give me no other choice. It’s the only way I can cover up his latest mess-up, which is you. Perhaps you should’ve avoided his advances.” Miss Gore smoothed her hands over her skirt. “It’s unsavory and quite a bitch move. I agree. But that doesn’t change the fact that I will release a public statement accusing you of stalking Chad Gamble and forcing yourself on him.”
“I’m going to hit you—put all of my considerable weight behind it,” Bridget said, eyeing the heavy lamp beside the couch. How much prison time would she get if she whacked it over the bitch’s head?
Miss Gore didn’t look too concerned. “All you have to do is pretend to be dating Chad. That’s all. You’ll keep your job and your reputation. And let’s be honest here, dating Chad is surely going to increase your dating potential later on. Every man in the city is going to want to know what you have that hooked a playboy like Chad.”
If she wasn’t so pissed off, she’d be offended by those statements. What she wanted to do was kick her foot so far up this lady’s rear that she’d need a doctor to remove it.
Bridget turned away and stalked behind the chair she’d been sitting in, taking several deep breaths. Her apartment was shoebox sized, but now she really felt it—the walls closing in. She was trapped. There was no doubt in her mind that Miss Gore would do exactly what she threatened. Bridget would lose her job and end up looking like a psycho in the process. And just like her pride had refused to let her accept money for being Chad’s pretend girlfriend, pride refused to allow her to be labeled as some kind of fatal attraction wannabe with a weight problem. She could see the gossips now. The things they’d say about her…
She swallowed hard, but the sudden lump of messy, ugly emotions didn’t budge. Damn Chad for dragging her into this mess.
Facing Miss Gore, Bridget sent her a death glare. “I think this is disgusting, and I’m sure there’s a special place in hell for you, Miss Gore, but you’ve left me no other choice.”
A look of remorse flickered across Miss Gore’s otherwise impassive expression, but it was so quick that Bridget soon doubted she even saw it. Miss Gore placed a card on the coffee table as she stood. “I expect you to be at the address provided tomorrow evening at seven to go over the ground rules with Chad. Wear something…nice.” That tight, fake smile again. “You will have a late dinner with Chad at Jaws.”
Jaws was an upscale seafood joint that Bridget couldn’t even afford to walk past. Letting out a shaky breath, she watched the publicist/dictator stroll toward the front door.
Miss Gore stopped and looked over her shoulder. The woman’s spine was straight as a nail under the suit. “Don’t be late, Bridget.”
Bridget did the only thing she could do in this situation that wouldn’t end with her doing a life stint in prison. She flipped the woman off.
With both hands.
Chapter Eleven
