Various States of Undress: Virginia (32 page)

“Virginia?”

There was a collective gasp on the sales floor.

She clapped a hand over her mouth and swayed slightly. “Oh, Dex.”

He reached up and took her hand. “Don't fall off.”

“Okay.” She gazed at him.

“Virginia,” he repeated. “You are . . . you are . . .” He closed his eyes. “Oh, God. I had this memorized.”

Her pulse racing, she scooted off the table and knelt in front of him. “I'm patient.”

“You are the love of my life.” Dex opened his eyes. “You are my one and only. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. I can't imagine a world without you. I love you with all my heart, Dex.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly, and then more urgently, her hands curling around the lapels of his coat. She pulled away and gazed at him. “I'm perfectly happy.”

He grinned and slid the ring onto her finger. “Me too. Well, almost,” he said.

“Really? What would make you perfectly happy?”

“I need a nickname.”

Virginia laughed. “Hmm.” She thought fast because, really, she'd never intended to give him a nickname. He was Dex. He was her love. He was sexy and strong. Steady and sweet. He got tongue-tied and he couldn't dance. She glanced at him, at the teasing smile on his face, and then it came to her in a rush.

“Disco,” she announced. “Disco Dex.”

There was murmuring from around them, and Virginia lifted her head. “I said, Disco Dex!” she called out. Everyone laughed.

“No.” He started to shake his head.

“Oh yes. And what's more? I think it needs to be your Secret Service code name too. After we're married, you're going to need one.” He looked at her in horror, and she burst out laughing. “Are you sure you want to marry me, Dex?”

He gathered her in his arms. “Absolutely, my love.”

And then he kissed her.

Can't get enough of Laura Simcox's smart, sexy

Various States of Undress series?

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Book Three:

VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: GEORGIA

Coming from Avon Impulse in January 2015!

And don't miss Book One:

VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: CAROLINA

Available now wherever ebooks are sold.

An Excerpt from

VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: GEORGIA

G
EORGIA FULTON WAS
in a hot mess—literally.

As she stood in the empty press box of Autozone Park, home of the Memphis Redbirds, her blouse stuck to her back from the humidity. Her brand-new briefcase hung heavily from the strap over her shoulder. And her heart sank because the very first day of her college internship in TV news was
so
not what she had expected. Since her dad had been elected president of the United States, she'd gotten used to encountering the unexpected, but this? Her future career in investigative journalism hinging on whether or not she could interview
baseball players
?

Georgia sighed and glanced around the room, which was made up of tiered platforms with table space for reporters. She stared out the wall of windows for a moment, which offered an eagle-eye view of the playing field, and then she walked around a large post in the middle of the room and put her briefcase on a table.

After pulling a bottle of water from her bag, she leaned against the post and took a healthy swig. Too healthy, because some of it escaped her lips and splashed down the front of her blouse. “Great,” she muttered and lifted her blouse out of her skirt to flap it against her body. “Now all I need is some peanuts and Crackerjack, and I'll be all set for a fun time.”

There was a low laugh behind her, and she snickered in response. Ernie and Stan—as far as Secret Service agents went—were pretty funny people. They always got her wry humor. “Go ahead, guys—laugh it up.”

Nobody answered, so she peeked around the post, blowing hair from her eyes.

“Guys?”

“Uh. Hi.”

Georgia splayed her hand over the front of her wet blouse and stared. The impossibly tanned guy standing just inside the doorway, wearing a tight T-shirt, jeans, and a smile, was as still as a statue. A statue with fathomless, unblinking chocolate-brown eyes. She let her gaze drop from his face to his broad chest. “Oh. Hello. I was expecting someone else.”

He didn't comment, and when she lifted her gaze again, past his wide shoulders and carved chin, she watched his smile turn into a grin, revealing way-too-sexy brackets at the corners of his mouth. He walked forward, down the steps, and onto the platform where she stood. He had to be at least 6'3”, and testosterone poured off him like the heatwaves on the field below. Her gaze flicked from him toward the glass wall and back again.

“Scared of heights?” he asked. His voice was a slow Southern drawl, and deep. Sexy deep. “Maybe you oughta sit down.”

“No, thanks. I was just . . . looking for something.”

Looking for something?
Like what—a tryst with a stranger in the press box? Her face heated, and she clutched the water bottle, the plastic making a snapping sound under her fingers. “So . . . how did you get in here?”

He smiled again. “The agents know who I am.”

“And you are?”

“Brett Knox.”

His name sounded familiar. “Okay. I'm Georgia Fulton. It's nice to meet you,” she said, putting down her water.

He shook her hand briefly. “You too. But I just came up here to let you know that I'm declining the interview. Too busy.”

Georgia felt herself nodding in agreement, even as she realized
exactly
who Brett Knox was. He was the star catcher—and the whole interview series revolved around him and his major league aspirations. Crap. “I won't take much of your time. Just think of me as another reporter.” She ventured a warm, inviting smile, and Brett's dark eyes widened.

“Look—I may be famous in Memphis, but I don't have paparazzi following me around, and I like it that way. You interviewing me would turn into a big hassle.”

“The paparazzi don't follow me like they do my sisters. I'm the boring one.”

“Really?” He folded his arms across his lean middle, and his gaze traveled slowly over her face.

She felt her heart speed up. “Yes, really.”

“I beg to differ.”

Before she could respond, he gave her another devastating smile and jogged up the steps. It was the best view she'd had all day. When he disappeared, she collapsed back against the post. He was right, of course. She wasn't just another reporter: she was the president's brainy daughter—who secretly lusted after athletes. And she'd just met a hell of an athlete.

Talk about a hot mess.

About the Author

After spending years in professional theater as a costume designer,
LAURA SIMCOX
eased out of the hectic whirlwind of opening nights and settled in a comfy desk chair to write romance. She believes that life is too short not to appreciate heartwarming, quirky humor, and her novels are lighthearted journeys into the happily-ever-after. She lives in North Carolina with her true love and adorable little son. Visit Laura online at www.laurasimcox.com.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.

By
Laura Simcox

Various States of Undress: Virginia

Various States of Undress: Carolina

Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at six brand-new

e-book original tales of romance from Avon Impulse.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

BEAUTY AND THE BRIT

By Lizbeth Selvig

THE GOVERNESS CLUB: SARA

By Ellie Macdonald

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

B
OOK
T
WO:
I
NDEPENDENCE
F
ALLS

By Sara Jane Stone

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A B
ILLIONAIRES AND
B
IKERS
N
OVELLA

By Cynthia Sax

WHEN THE RANCHER CAME TO TOWN

A V
ALENTINE
V
ALLEY
N
OVELLA

By Emma Cane

LEARNING THE ROPES

By T. J. Kline

An Excerpt from

BEAUTY AND THE BRIT

by Lizbeth Selvig

Tough and self-reliant Rio Montoya has looked after her two siblings for most of their lives. But when a gang leader makes threats against her sister Bonnie, even Rio isn't prepared for the storm that could destroy her family. Rio seeks refuge for them all at a peaceful horse farm in the small town of Kennison Falls, Minnesota, but her budding romance with the stable's owner, handsome British ex-pat David Pitts-Matherson, feels as dangerous as her past.

 

“D
id I ever tell you how much I hate British arrogance?” Chase grinned and captured the ball, dribbled it to the free-throw line, turned, and sank the shot. “Nothin' but net.”

“Did I ever tell you how much I hate Americans showing off?”

“Yup. You have.”

David laughed again and clapped Chase on the arm. Not quite a year before, Chase had married David's good friend and colleague Jill Carpenter, and this was the second time David had overnighted with Chase at Crossroads Youth and Community Center in Minneapolis. He was grateful for the camaraderie, and for the free lodging on his supply runs to the city, but mostly for the distraction from life at the stable back home in Kennison Falls. Here there were no bills staring up at him from his desk, no finances to finagle, no colicky horses. Here he could forget he was one disaster away from . . . well, disaster.

It also boggled his mind that he and Chase had an entire converted middle school to themselves.

“All right, play to thirty,” Chase said, tossing him the ball. “Oughta take me no more'n three minutes to hang your limey ass out to dry.”

“Bring it on, Nancy-boy.”

A loud buzzer halted the game before it started.

“Isn't that the front door?” David asked.

“Yeah.” Deep lines formed between Chase's brows.

The center had officially closed an hour before at nine o'clock. Members with I.D. pass cards could enter until eleven—but only did so for emergencies. David followed Chase toward the gymnasium doors. Voices echoed down the hallway.

“Stop pulling, Rio, you're worse than Hector. He's not going to follow us in here.”

“It's Bonnie and Rio Montoya.” Surprise colored Chase's voice. “Rio's one of the really good ones. Sane. Hardworking. I can't imagine why she's here.”

Rio?
David searched his memory but could only recall ever hearing the name in the Duran Duran song.

“Don't be an idiot.” A second voice, filled with firm, angry notes, rang out clearly as David neared the source. “Of course they're following us. They may not come inside, but they'll be waiting, and you cannot handle either of them no matter how much you think you can. Dr. Preston's on duty tonight. He might be able to run interference.”

“They won't listen to him. To them he's just a pretty face. Let me talk to Heco. You never gave me the chance.”

“And I won't, even if I have to lock you in juvie for a year.”

“God, Rio, you just don't get it.”

“You're right, Bonnie Marie. I don't. What in God's name possessed you to meet Hector Black after curfew? Do you know what almost went down in that parking lot? Do you know who that other dude
was
?”

Chase hustled through the doorway. “Rio? Bonnie? Something happen?”

David followed five feet behind him. The hallway outside the gym glowed with harsh fluorescent lighting. Chase had the attention of both girls, but when David moved into view, one of them turned. A force field slammed him out of nowhere—a force field made up of amber-red hair and blazing blue eyes.

Frozen to the spot, he stared and she stared back. Her hair shone the color of new pennies on fire, and her complexion, more olive and exotic than a typical pale redhead's, captivated him. Her lips, parted and uncertain, were pinup-girl full. Her body, beneath a worn-to-softness plaid flannel shirt, was molded into the kind of feminine curves that got a shallow-thinking man in trouble. David normally prided himself on having left such loutishness behind in his university days, but he was rapidly reverting.

“Rio? You all right?” Chase called, and she broke the staring contest first.

David blinked.

“Fine,” she said. “I'm sorry to come in so late. I needed a safe place for this one.”

An Excerpt from

THE GOVERNESS CLUB: SARA

by Ellie Macdonald

Sweet Sara Collins is one of the founding members of the Governess Club. But she has a secret: She doesn't love teaching. She'd much prefer to be a vicar's wife and help the local community. Nathan Grant is the embodiment of everything that frightens her. When Sara decides it's time to take a chance and experience
all
that life has to offer, Nathan is the first person she thinks of. Will Sara's walk on the wild side ruin her chances at a simple, happy life? Or has she just opened the door to a once-in-a-lifetime chance at passion?

 

M
r. Pomeroy helped her down from the gig, and Sara took a long look at Windent Hall. Curtains covering the windows shielded the interior from a visitor's view, lending the building a cold and unwelcoming front. Rotted trees and dead grass lined the driveway, and cracks were visible along the red brickwork. Piles of crumbled mortar littered the edge of the manor house, and even the front portico was listing to the side, on the verge of toppling over.

The place reeked of neglect, which was to be expected after thirty years of vacancy. What Sara hadn't expected was the blanket of loneliness that shrouded the house, adding to the chilly ambiance. She couldn't help feeling that it had been calling out to be noticed, only to be ignored that much longer.