Various States of Undress: Virginia (13 page)

“Okay.” Dex began to pace but then stopped to strike a pose—arms raised awkwardly, hands stiff—as if he were giving a boardroom presentation. “It involves the focus of my advertising campaign. I need a person to be the face of the new Lilah's.” He paused, rubbing his jaw, and her lips curved up in a smile. God, he was cute. “I need someone young and famous,” he continued, “A unique, fascinating woman with remarkable fashion sense. Someone who would be willing to have her image appear in print ads, on buses, cabs, the website . . . things like that.”

“Okay,” Virginia echoed. “I know some people, but I think the right movie star would need a lot of coaxing. Lilah's isn't exactly—”

“I meant you,” Dex interrupted. He turned to look at her. “I want you to do it.” His voice was steady, but there was a tentativeness in his eyes, and Virginia wondered why. Was he still worried that she would bail on him, so he'd cooked up this idea to appeal to her vanity? And was it the reason he'd had the office decorated so fabulously too? She didn't want to think that, but most of the time she was her own worst enemy. He was probably just trying to boost her confidence. She chewed her lower lip. Or he was trying to leverage her fame even more. But wasn't she doing that too? Using what people thought they knew about her and then proving them wrong by turning Lilah's around? She looked up at him.

“Virginia, don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“As if I'm presenting some type of evil mastermind plan.” He crossed the room and sat in front of her on the coffee table. “I don't know what you're thinking, but I can probably guess that you want me to explain why I came up with this proposal. It's because . . .” He paused and then let his head fall back so he could gaze at the ceiling. She stared at his throat. “It's to help both of us succeed,” he said. “By doing the ads for Lilah's, you'll be promoting your behind-the-scenes work on the new store launch.” He snapped his fingers and looked at her. “A win-win. That's what I meant to say to begin with. Damn. Someday I'll stop losing my train of thought around you.”

She couldn't help it—she grinned at him. “I hope not. I am flattered, by the way.” She needed to stop doubting his intentions, but it was tough because—she realized—he was fast becoming one of those rare people whom she wanted to trust completely. She knew he was right—appearing in the ads to promote her own work? Kind of genius. Plus, it would be a kick to see her smiling face plastered on the side of a bus instead of her plastered face in the pages of the
Post
.

“Is that a yes?”

“As long as you don't expect me to wear something from our Lilah's sales floor as is, then yes.”

He grinned back, his relief evident. “No support hose for you?”

“What do you think?”

“Hmm.” He touched her bare knee lightly, and her skin started tingling all over again. “No. We can skip the hose.” He ran a hand down her calf and traced a pattern on her ankle with a fingertip. “Oh, goose bumps. Maybe you need some warm, fluffy house slippers.”

“That would be a no.” She shifted on the cushion.

“How about a house coat? We've got some lovely floral samples downstairs. They have snaps.” He tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of his lips began to twitch, emphasizing the dimples in his lean cheeks.

Oh, God, she loved those dimples. She wanted to give them little licks. “Maybe you need to stop with the fashion suggestions and . . . uh . . .” She looked away from his sexy mouth and traced the dry edge of her bottom lip with her tongue.

“And?” he prompted, his fingers tracing over her toes.

She crossed her legs in the other direction and tried to keep her breathing normal. “Dex, you're distracting me.”

“I hope so.” He chuckled. “What were you going to say? Was it about clothes?”

She had no clue. But she did have an idea—it came to her suddenly. “Yes. About clothes. You're interested in knowing what excites me, right?”

“More than anything,” he said with a wink.

Her hand flew to her forehead and she felt herself blushing. “Okay, I walked right into that one.”

“Mm,” Dex said. “So?”

“Spend a day shopping with me.” She peered at him, waiting for his reaction, and she wasn't disappointed. His eyes widened for a second; then a deep groan came out of his mouth. She giggled. “You're in
retail
, Dex. You're supposed to be fascinated with shopping.”

“I'm a CEO in training, not a personal shopper. You'll load me down like a pack mule.”

“Yes I will, but that's not the point. In order to understand your own business, you need to learn how and why women shop. You know I'm right.”

He groaned again. “Fine. When?”

“Tomorrow. Saturdays are meant for shopping sprees. Pick me up at ten in the morning.”

“And we'll go until . . . ?” A fearful look crossed his face.

She giggled again and reached out to pat his knee. “Until I'm satisfied.” Dex raised an eyebrow, and she snatched her hand back. “I mean . . . oh, get out of here. Go back to your office.”

“Can't I at least attempt a bad joke first?” He grinned but stood up.

“No.”

“Ah, well, I'll go then.” He stretched. “But I do want you to know that I'm only interested in your
complete
and
total
satisfaction,” he said in a low voice.

“Ha, ha.
Complete
and
total
mean the same thing, by the way.” She looked up at him, trying to keep the breathlessness out of her voice.

“Exactly, sweetheart. And I wasn't really joking because we both want the same thing.” With another grin, he straightened his tie and walked out.

Chapter Seven

A
T EXACTLY TEN
the next morning, Dex walked into the lobby of Virginia's building balancing two coffees in a cardboard tray. He set them down on the concierge desk and smiled at the woman sitting behind it. “Good morning. Could you let Virginia Fulton know I'm here?”

“No need,” Virginia said. “Oh, you brought shopping fuel. Awesome.”

Dex turned his head and saw her—smiling and relaxed—sitting on a settee in front of a window. The light washed over her, emphasizing the golden tint to her sleek dark hair and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She wore some kind of flowing, peacock-colored bohemian top and another of those snug skirts. This one revealed a lot more leg than the one she'd had on yesterday. As always, she had on funky, sexy sky-high heels. Gorgeous.

“Morning.” He splayed a hand over the chest of his polo shirt and glanced down at his jeans. “I think I'm underdressed.”

“You look hot,” she said and stood up, grabbing her bag. “Ready to go?” Her top slid off one shoulder, revealing her soft skin. She fussed with the fabric for a moment and then shrugged. It slipped farther and she glanced up. “Maybe I better go change.”

“No,” he said abruptly, and when she grinned, he let out a chuckle. “I can put up with it if you can.” He grabbed the tray and stood there holding it like a kid in a cafeteria.

“Okay, then. Let's go shop!” Larry and Charlie stood up from nearby armchairs, sighing, and Virginia laughed. “Guys, don't worry. Dex will hold everything.”

He smiled. “That's my job today.”

“Yeah, but your job is also to learn.” She shook a finger near his face, and he fought the urge to kiss it. “Be a good student. No eye-rolling or long-suffering sighs. Especially not in a shoe department—that's hallowed ground.”

“I'll do my best to pay attention.” He would, too, because he wasn't lazy. Part of making Lilah's a success involved stepping out of his comfort zone of spreadsheets and faceless conference calls and into the nutty world of fashion. He followed her outside, sandwiched by the agents, and soon they were rolling west in the Secret Service SUV, across town. “Where are we going, exactly?”

Virginia reached across and wiggled out a coffee from the holder balanced on his thighs. “Herald Square.” She took a sip. “Mmm. Latte,” she sighed in a throaty voice, and then her tongue snaked out to lick her upper lip.

Dex couldn't look away, even though his crotch began to swell, and he was suddenly very glad to have that tray in his lap. “What are we going to do there?”

“Macy's. Then Desigual. It's jam-packed with interesting patterns—it's like the anti-Lilah's.” She gave him a weary look.

“I don't need to be reminded how much Lilah's is lacking,” he said. “Lilah's—”

“Looks like a nursing home threw up,” she interrupted. “What's with the white smocks on the clerks, Dex? Those poor women look like orderlies.”

He raised his eyebrows, and almost as soon as the words had come out of her mouth, she smacked a palm to her forehead. “I can't believe I just said that. That was so rude. I know that and I'm sorry, but I feel better getting it out in the open.”

He chuckled. “I'm not offended—do I look like I shop at Lilah's?” As he watched, she swept her hair to the side and slowly looked him up and down, which didn't help the tightness at the front of his jeans at all. “Not a bit,” she said.

He shifted. “Anyway, according to your brilliant plans, Lilah's will be exclusive and elegant. Like a mini-Barney's.”

“Yeaaah, about that.”

“What?” He pulled out the other cup of coffee and took a sip, running his tongue across the lid to catch the foam. He felt her eyes on him and when he turned, she was staring at his mouth, so he tried a lopsided grin, which got bigger when she blinked. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes. I mean—I hope not. But before we start shopping . . . I need to tell you that I've adjusted the focus of my plans for Lilah's, and you may not like it.”

“How so? You're not going to start stocking whips and chains, are you?”

“Oh yeah. I'll put Ruston right on that.” She laughed and turned to face him. “Did you notice my outfit today?”

How could he not? It was carefree, bold, and feminine. So sexy. “Yeah. It's pretty.”

“Thanks, I love it.” She adjusted the neckline of the top. “But I didn't ask to fish for a compliment. I asked because this is an example of what I want to sell at Lilah's.”

He stared at the top, trying to gauge it as a fashion item, but all he could see was the way the filmy fabric cascaded over her breasts. “Yeah, that would be a good item. Like in a section of casual wear or something?”

“Kind of. Dex, here's the thing. I don't think we ought to sell luxury stuff at all—even though I love it. Couture won't work at Lilah's—a store that never carried it to begin with.”

His gaze travelled up to her face. “Really. So what do you have in mind?”

“I want our stock to be eclectic—a little bit wild and crazy, even. Maybe things that would appeal to college girls, things that would be more affordable. NYU is near Lilah's.”

“I know. I did my MBA there—but observing student fashion wasn't high on my list of priorities while studying.”

“What was high on your list?”

“Quantitative business analysis.” He paused. “I like making predictions.”

“And what's your prediction about my idea?” She looked down at her coffee cup and then back at him, her lips parted expectantly.

He thought for a moment. He didn't want to offend her, but how well had she actually thought this change of plans through? Obviously, he realized now that she wasn't going to bail on him—but what if she made a habit of jumping from idea to idea and they made no progress?

“Dex?”

He nodded. “It's a fun concept, Virginia, but we can't turn Lilah's into a giant boho boutique. What about the rest of our customers? The senior set? And, uh, men? What about them?”

“They're in the back of my mind, and I'm working on how to make the store appeal to everyone. But Dex, it has to be unique. Lilah's is never going to be competition for a store like Barney's, although I'm pretty sure Ruston thinks that's what I'm intending.” She toyed with her coffee. “And with good reason, considering I've walked through the doors wearing designer labels like a badge.”

“He'll come around because he has to.” Dex rested his fingers on the back of her hand, intending only to touch her briefly, but he found himself circling his thumb around to her palm, massaging it. “You want me to run interference with Ruston?”

“That would make it worse, but thanks for the offer.” She looked down at their joined hands and then out the window. “Macy's. Here we are.”

Reluctantly, Dex let her go and set the coffee in a cupholder. “We could go there—or we could drive right past it and go get some brunch,” he said.

Up front, Larry snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Muscles is right—you're not getting out of this, but don't worry; you'll be wowed by what you see today.” Virginia laughed.

Dex leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “I have no doubt about that.” She turned her head slightly, and he could feel her breath brush across his cheek.

“Behave,” she whispered back and then slid sunglasses on.

With a low chuckle, he eased back over to his side and waited for the agents to park and maneuver her out of the vehicle. Fifteen minutes later he was knee-deep in shoe boxes and draped with accessories—kind of like a scarecrow. Two shiny gold pairs of sandals dangled from his right hand; peach-colored belts were looped around his neck; and, over his left arm, Virginia had draped several orange purses. He sighed at the mirror in front of him, causing the tiny, pink plaid fedora on top of his head to quiver.

“No complaining,” she reminded him. “You'll mess up the shoe karma.”

“There's such a thing as shoe karma?”