Various States of Undress: Virginia (24 page)

“No.” He took the jacket from her hands and hung it on the top corner of the stall door. Then he advanced on her and leaned into the stall, his gaze sweeping over her. “But I will do this,” he added and hauled her into his arms to kiss her. She blocked him by shoving her palms against the front of his tux shirt. “I don't think so,” she said sternly, even as her heart sped up.

“Mmm,” he responded, his sexy mouth headed for the crook of her neck. She couldn't let him kiss her there—she'd be a melted puddle on the dressing room floor within seconds. “Back off.” She pushed at him and heard a ripping noise. “Oh shit,” she muttered, sweeping her hair out of the way to look in the three-way mirror. “Shit!” The delicate chiffon overlay on the bodice of her dress was torn across her back and down her side, separated from the zipper, and caught in his cufflink. She met Dex's eyes in the mirror.

“You seem to have a problem with snagging yourself on ladies clothing, Dex. First that giant bra and now my dress. Can you explain it?”

“No. You sound unnaturally calm. Is this the part right before you go ballistic?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, “This is the part where I tell you that I have nothing else to wear.”

Carefully, he detached his cufflink from her dress and took a step back, peering down at her side. “We . . . can't fix it?”

“Do you have a magic wand down those tight pants?” She narrowed her eyes. “Don't answer that.”

Wisely, he shook his head. “I won't. But I do have a solution. You could wear something from the sales floor.”

Virginia could tell from the smile creeping around the corners of his lips that he was trying to lighten the mood by making her indignant. And then he would probably suggest that they run by Saks on their way to the party at Flash—but she wasn't going to let him get her worked up, and she wasn't about to miss an opportunity to surprise him. “Sure,” she said. “Go grab me something sparkly, and if I wear it? You wear that dinner jacket.”

Dex raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? You know I'm going to pick something hideous.”

“Hurry up. We don't have much time.”

When he left, she darted out of the dressing room and grabbed Ruston, whom she knew would be hovering nearby like a little brown bat. “I need a favor.”

Ruston's hands flew to his chest as he spied the gap at her side. “What did you do to your
dress
?”

“Never mind that. Look, I know I'm not your favorite person, but I need you. Would you go get me some scissors and safety pins, please?”

He lifted his chin. “Of course. A fashion emergency is a fashion emergency. I don't discriminate.” He turned around and practically ran toward the stockroom.

He and Dex returned to the dressing rooms almost at the same time—Ruston with a handful of safety pins and a wickedly long pair of scissors, and Dex with a bright green-and-orange tropical print muumuu. It was covered in sequins and sported a large faux gem collar sewn to the neckline. She sucked in a breath but held out her hands. “Give them to me, guys.” They did, and she turned to Ruston. “You—come in the stall with me.” She turned to Dex. “You—quit dawdling and put on that jacket. I've been behind all week on everything else, and I'll be damned if I'm late to this party.”

“You're not the one who was behind, Virginia. The contractors were behind on estimates, which forced you to wait to order supplies.” Dex grabbed the jacket and stepped into the stall opposite hers. As he shrugged it on, he kept talking in what he probably thought was a soothing tone. “The painters were scheduled, though, and the show rooms are sending over the stock in less than a week. It's all good, so don't worry.”

“I'm not worried. I just want to make sure that I get my ducks in a row because my sister will be here in a couple of days, which means that I won't be at work much next week.”

Dex frowned. “I . . . we . . . don't get to see you for a week?”

“I didn't say that. I'll be here bright and early on Thursday for the photo shoot. You knew my sister was coming to visit, Dex.”

“Yeah, but I forgot. You distracted me.” He looked a little forlorn. “Are you seriously going to wear that dress?”

“Yes.” She gave him a sunny smile, shut the dressing room door, and glanced at Ruston. “It's not going to bother you if I take off—”

“Miss Fulton. I'm a professional,” Ruston said in a clipped tone. “I've seen more women in lingerie than most men could even dream about. But believe me, I don't dream about it at all, if you understand my meaning.”

She grinned. “I do. Who's the lucky fella?”

“His name is Gordon. Raise your arms, please,” Ruston instructed, and then he whisked the dress up and off, detached the muumuu from the hanger, and, when she bent her head, he put it on her. It fell in voluminous folds all around her, and Virginia let herself have one moment for an internal shriek of horror. Then she squinted at the mirror and put her hands on her waist. “You ready?”

Ruston grabbed the scissors. “Where first?”

“Hemline,” she whispered. “High in front, low in back. Then the puffy sleeves. Cut them off; leave two inch straps. Last, the neckline. Hack off the collar. I'll use it for a belt.” She stood completely still as Ruston went to work; after he'd finished the surgery and expertly cinched the collar around her waist so the safety pins didn't show, she turned slowly in front of the mirror, nodding at the newly created maxi-dress. The colors in it matched her gold sandals, and her teardrop necklace looked even better with this than it had with her cocktail dress. “You're amazing, Ruston. Although I obviously didn't expect anything less, or I wouldn't have let you come after me with a pair of scissors.”

Ruston puffed up with pride but waggled an index finger at the dress. “I'll bet you stop complaining about polyester now. The raw edges won't ravel.”

Virginia shook her head at him. “Learn to take a compliment, Ruston.” Then she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I'll never stop complaining about polyester, though, so get used to it.” Before he could answer, she opened the dressing room door and strode out, the full skirt of her dress sailing behind her.

“Holy shit.” Dex stared at her as she twirled again. “How did you do that?”

“Ruston and I did it together. Now quit gawking and take me to the party.” She took his arm and winked up at him. “You're a very hot hipster, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Dex said dryly. He led her to Muscles, who was on duty with Dave tonight, and they all piled into the SUV and drove south to Tribeca. When they arrived at Flash, the party was in full swing inside the narrow, elegantly decorated two-story venue. The music was loud, the place was crowded, but it didn't take long at all for Dex and Virginia to be spotted by a clump of people near the door, whose mouths dropped open. The people exchanged glances and began to advance like zombies.

“Here we go,” Virginia murmured. “Get ready.”

“For what?” Dex asked. He held her arm a bit too tightly—a good sign that the party had already made him anxious—so she winked up at him. “It's going to be fine. I'll stick with you.” But then, as usual, shit happened. Within a minute, she was crowded by people wanting to ogle a celebrity. Then several of the designers whose clothes she'd chosen to feature at Lilah's came over to gush about her dress—causing her to think quickly and change the subject to shop talk. By the time she heard her name being screamed from a balcony and she looked up to see Stacey waving down, she'd lost Dex in the crowd. Sighing, she gathered her skirt and walked up the spiral staircase to give Stacey a hug.

“Ginny! You're here!” Stacey loved to state the obvious, and Virginia loved to give her crap about it, but now was not the time. “Oh my God! What the hell are you wearing?” Stacey blurted out.

“Shh.” Virginia turned to the man who silently appeared next to Stacey and threw his arm over her shoulder. He was tall and had a gray ponytail, piercing black eyes, and an asshole smile. She detested him on sight. “Hi. You must be Dorian. Nice to meet you.”

His smirk got bigger. “Yes, and you're the lovely Virginia. Even lovelier in person, I might add. You have spectacular eyes.”

Eww. Virginia nodded. “I am Virginia. Thanks for agreeing to host our prelaunch party.”

“My pleasure.” Dorian waved an imperious hand down at the mass of bodies. “It's . . . lively. I'll give you that much.”

Virginia had to smile at the eclectic crowd because Flash didn't usually cater to flamboyant designers or trying-to-make-a-living-as-an-artist types, and especially not to college kids. The usual crowd at a place like this was very rich, very wry, and one step away from becoming versions of their uptight parents—even though they were still in denial about that, still pretending to be relevant and on the cutting edge of anything fashionable. Those people were here too, of course, but they stood in clusters, holding martinis and raising their eyebrows a lot. And those were the people to whom she had originally planned to market Lilah's. Yikes. Virginia burst out laughing.

After a moment, Stacey laughed too, a forced, high-pitched giggle. “Oh, Ginny. I think you need a drink. Be right back.” She trailed her fingers over Dorian's chest and then leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek before swishing off to the bar in the corner of the balcony, her fringed minidress swinging around her svelte figure. Virginia stared after her for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable. She had a bad vibe about Dorian, and it was going to take every ounce of willpower to pretend to be grateful to him. If the truth were laid out, he was probably benefiting from this event as much as she was, just because she was here. But she wasn't going to say that.

“So,” Dorian said in a teasing tone, “What does a First Daughter do for fun in New York? Something scandalous, I hope.”

Eww again. Virginia gripped the rail of the balcony and glanced at him. “It's the best city in the world,” she responded, evading his question. This time it was Dorian's turn to burst out laughing, and, as he did, he placed his hand on the small of her back and stared down at her intently. She stiffened. The small of her back was Dex's spot, and this asshole had no right to touch her there. Did he honestly think that because of her reputation, she was going to engage in eyeball sex with him? Giving him a tight-lipped smile, she took a step away, a step closer to Muscles, who was watching her sharply. She shook her head slightly and gave her agent an everything-is-under-control look. He nodded.

Dorian, unfortunately, didn't take the hint. Not only did he not drop his hand, he leaned in close, so close that she could see the chest hair curling around the gold chain draped across his throat. What the hell did Stacey see in this guy? He was creepy. And old. And he wasn't saying anything. Oh my God. Was he
smelling
her? Virginia took another step back and leveled a look at him. “You were going to say?”

“I wasn't planning to say anything. Although, since you prompted me, I would like to know what it would take to spend some time with you.”

Virginia frowned at him. “Aren't you with Stacey?”

Incredibly, Dorian moved his hand up her back again and began to finger her hair. He didn't get a chance to respond because two seconds later, Muscles was pulling him backward.

“Sir, I need to ask you to give the lady some space.”

“Doesn't the lady get a say in the matter?” Dorian asked.

“The lady says step the fuck back,” answered Dex. He stood at the top of the stairway, his eyes trained on Dorian.

Virginia turned to him and grabbed his arm, murmuring the first thing that came to mind, which, as it turned out, wasn't the right thing. “It's fine. Don't make a scene, Dex. We're his guests.”

Dex stared at her. “Guests? Last time I checked, we were paying to rent the place.” He looked away but not before she saw the wounded pride in his eyes. He managed a smile for Stacey, however, who appeared at his elbow with two tall girly drinks. “Hey, sexy Dexie,” she said brightly.

“Hi, Stacey,” he returned. “Is one of those drinks for me?”

Stacey let out a stream of giggles. “It's a Pink Panty Dropper. Better tighten your belt before you take a sip, Dex.” She looked around the group, including Muscles and Dorian in her awkward joke. Muscles cracked an obligatory grin, but Dorian rolled his eyes, and Stacey's smile faltered. Virginia despised him even more. “Um, Stace. Could I talk to you?”

Stacey held up her drink and caught the straw in her mouth. She took a long sip and, after a moment, looked at Virginia. “That depends. Are we going to have a chick chat?” When Virginia nodded, Stacey shook her head. “Then no thanks. It's time to party, girl!”

“Holy shit,” Dex muttered, looking away.

“What? That's why we're here, isn't it?” Stacey elbowed him, but Virginia barely noticed the fact that her drink was dangerously close to sloshing all over him. She was looking at Dex's grim face, and then she followed his gaze, her heart dropping as she saw who was coming up the stairs. Ariel—looking like a black widow of doom.

Before Virginia could steer him away, Ariel mounted the last step and, completely ignoring her brother, sailed straight to Dorian and embraced him. “I'm here,” she announced.

“Excellent.” Dorian gave her a quick peck on the lips but cast a worried glance over her bony shoulder at Stacey, who stared at him open-mouthed. Virginia's heart sank further. She slipped her arm inside Dex's, silently willing him to keep his mouth shut. He didn't.

“What are you doing here, Ariel?” Dex asked.

Ariel turned around. “Oh, hello.”

“Who the hell is she? How do you know her, Dex?” Stacey demanded. “And why the hell is she kissing my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend?” Dorian muttered. “I'm not sure that—”