Bared to You(57)

Gideon shut the door of the Bentley and shook his head. "It's mine. You're not taking it back."

He linked our fingers together and gestured toward the revolving door with the hand holding the frame. I warmed when I realized he intended to take my picture into work with him.

One of the fun things about the ad business was that no day was ever the same as the one before it. I was hopping all morning and was just beginning to contemplate what to do about lunch when my phone rang. "Mark Garrity's office, Eva Tramell speaking."

"I've got news," Cary said by way of greeting.

"What?" I could tell by his voice that it was good news, whatever it was.

"I landed a Grey Isles campaign."

"Oh my God! Cary, that's awesome! I love their jeans."

"What are you doing for lunch?"

I grinned. "Celebrating with you. Can you be here at noon?"

"I'm already on my way."

I hung up and rocked back in my chair, so thrilled for Cary I felt like dancing. Needing something to do to kill the fifteen minutes remaining before my lunch break, I checked my inbox again and found a Google alert digest for Gideon's name. Over thirty mentions, in just one day.

I opened the e-mail and freaked out a little at the numerous "mystery woman" headlines. I clicked on the first link and found myself landing on a gossip blog.

There, in living color, was a photo of Gideon kissing me senseless on the sidewalk outside of his gym. The accompanying article was short and to the point:

"Gideon Cross, New York's most eligible bachelor since John F. Kennedy Jr., was spotted yesterday in a passionate public embrace. A source at Cross Industries identified the lucky mystery woman as socialite Eva Tramell, daughter of multimillionaire Richard Stanton and his wife, Monica. When queried about the nature of the relationship between Cross and Tramell, the source confirmed that Miss Tramell is 'the significant woman' in the mogul's life at present. We imagine hearts are breaking across the country this morning."

"Oh, crap," I breathed.

I quickly clicked through other links in the digest to find the same picture with similar captions and articles. Alarmed, I sat back and thought about what this meant. If one kiss was headline news, what chance would Gideon and I have to make a relationship work?

My hands weren't quite steady as I closed the browser tabs. I hadn't considered the press coverage, but I should have. "Damn it."

Anonymity was my friend. It protected me from my past. It protected my family from embarrassment, and Gideon, too. I didn't even have any social networking accounts so people who weren't actively in my life couldn't find me.

A thin, invisible wall between me and exposure was gone.

"Hell," I breathed, finding myself in a painful situation I could have avoided if I'd dedicated any of my brain cells to something other than Gideon.

There was also his reaction to this mess to consider...I cringed inwardly just thinking about it. And my mother. It wouldn't be long before she was calling and blowing everything out of -

"Shit." Remembering that she didn't have my new cell number, I picked up my desk phone and called my other voice mail to see if she'd already tried to reach me. I winced when I heard that my mailbox was full.

I hung up and grabbed my purse; then headed off to lunch, knowing Cary would help me put it all in perspective. I was so flustered when I reached the lobby level that I rushed out of the elevator with my only thought being to find my roommate. When I spotted him, I didn't take note of anyone else until Gideon sidestepped smoothly in front of me and blocked my path.

"Eva." He frowned down at me. Cupping my elbow, he turned me slightly around. That's when I saw the two women and a man who'd hidden him from my view.

I managed to find a smile for them. "Hello."

Gideon introduced me to his lunch dates. Then he excused us and tugged me off to the side. "What's wrong? You're upset."

"It's all over the place," I whispered. "A picture of us together."

He nodded. "I've seen it."

I blinked up at him, confused at his nonchalance. "You're okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be? For once, they're reporting the truth."

A sneaking suspicion niggled at me. "You planned it. You planted the story."

"Not entirely true," he said smoothly. "The photographer happened to be there. I just gave him a picture worth printing, and told PR to make it clear who you are and what you are to me."