Page 78 of Extended Bridge

Before I can reply, she clicks off. Fine. After one final read-through, I email it to the list I’ve curated entitled “Press Release Contacts.” I can only hope a couple of reporters call me to ask for additional color. I’d love tocoloroutside the lines on Michelle’s face.

After checking in with Felipe about my other clinic, and my contractor about the third one under renovation, I sit in silence. Better get ready for tonight’s concert. I go to my suitcase and check out my clothes. Leggings, jeans, and the dress Court gave me won’t do. Especially tonight. I need something that says I’m not the Black Widow.

I strum my fingers on the table. What can I wear?

Nese.

The stylist might be able to help a girl out. I text her:

Concert clothes SOS

STOP BY MY OFFICE!

I should try to channel her lightness and sunshine. Lord knows, I could use some of that. In spades. More importantly than anything, though, I want to be this woman for Bennett. After the Lissa article and everything he’s had to deal with—on his own—he deserves this treat.

Clad in jeans and sneakers, I make my way to the conference room she took over as The Closet for the concerts in Kentucky. While not as spacious as the one in Madison Square Garden, it overflows with options. Five racks of male clothing are the centerpiece, one for each of the guys in the band. I gravitate to the one with a few pairs of black leather pants and run my palm over one of them. Bennett’s going to fill these out tonight, making every woman drool. Heck, I need to swallow my own saliva thinking about him in them.

“You’re here! Great.” Nese floats toward me, obviously in her element. “The band’s not expected for a while, so we have plenty of girl time. What look are you going for tonight?”

“Anything not related to spiders.”

Her head tilts as her eyebrow raises. “Alright. We’ll stay away from all my outfits with more than two arms.”

I emit a giggle. Her crazy humor gets me out of my own head for the first time in a while. I need to trust things will work out for the best—Court has the fort well in hand at home, Luke’s wrangling theband here. The least I can do is not look anything like a bug needing to be squashed.

“How about I go for rocker chick?”

Her nose scrunches up. “Nah. Not your vibe. I’m thinking sexy schoolgirl. A short plaid miniskirt, white button-down. Yes, I think that will make all the guys cream their pants.”

“Nese, I’ve never been a private school student in my life.”

“All the more reason to walk the walk now.” She physically turns my body toward some more racks near the back part of the room. I thank the gods for this trove of women’s clothing. She flips through several pieces, pulling a few into her hands, while I check out a different spot.

I hold up a black vest. “What do you think of this?”

She purses her lips, then nods. “It might work. I’ll have to see it on you.” Moving at light speed toward a shelving unit, she asks my bra size and throws a black bra and panty set at me. Next, she asks, “You’re a size seven shoe, right?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” She pulls out some shoes, from ballerina flats to stilettos and even another pair of sneakers. “Now, go try everything on.” She shoos me toward a curtained area.

I stand in front of it. “I’m surprised you even have this here. The guys strip out in the open.”

“Hey, a girl’s gotta get some eye candy somehow.” She motions for me to try on her treasures. She winks. “This is special reserve.”

I shuck my clothes and try on the panty set, which does enhance my average attributes. The skirt goes on next, then the button-down. I try it on tucked in but think it looks better untucked. The last thing I put on is the black vest. Do I look like some overaged wannabe?

“Let me see you!”

Nese spurs me to slide open the curtain. I blurt, “I don’t think this really is me. I’m like a grandma pretending to be in nursery school.”

Her face rises to the ceiling and she laughs. “It’s absolutely fabthat you’re hooking up with Bennett, Mr. Leather Pants himself. How can’t you see how positively gorgeous you are? Come here.”

I close the distance between us in bare feet. She walks around me, ties the bottom of the shirt. Tilting her head, she asks me to tuck it in.

“Better. Now take off the vest.” I do. “Nah, put it back on.” Her finger taps her lips. “Unbutton the top three buttons of your shirt.” When I comply, she nods. “Two more.”

“Two,” I yelp. “My bra will be hanging out.”

---