Various States of Undress: Virginia (6 page)

Dex nodded. “Makes sense. But I want to make good on my offer. I'll do everything I can to help you succeed if you choose to become my consultant.” The teasing tone had left his voice, and she looked up, surprised to see that vulnerability in his expression again. It was the same look from earlier today when he'd asked her out. He wanted her to say yes—and he wanted it pretty badly.

“I understand,” she said.

“Great.” He nodded again and glanced around the room. “We need to move again before half the people in here come this way.”

Virginia looked over her shoulder at several society matrons who crept forward like zombies wearing couture. Ugh. She glanced back, her eyes resting on an area where a string ensemble was playing softly. “Want to dance?”

“Really?” His gaze followed hers. “Nobody else is yet.”

“So? They will if we will. But if you really don't want to—”

“It's not that.” He stared down at her. “I'd love to dance with you.”

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to see what it was like to be in Dex's arms. Her breath caught at the unexpected thought. Yes, he was attractive—but so were a lot of men, and she'd danced with plenty of them without getting all giggly about it. He wouldn't be any different, right? Taking his arm, she winked up at him. “We're going to put on a show.”

“No, we're not.”

“We already are,” she pointed out and raised her chin toward the crowd who was pretending to be too worldly to watch them, but were anyway.

“Right.” Dex let out a breath. “Virginia, maybe I spoke too soon. I'm a bad dancer, just so you know. Maybe this is a terrible idea.”

Virginia grabbed his hand and led him forward. “How bad can you be?”

“Spasmodically bad.”

Her eyes widened even as she pulled him onto the dance floor. “Well, it's too late now.” She placed one hand on Dex's shoulder and felt a rush of heat as his fingers slid across the bare skin of her back. Swallowing, she raised her other hand and placed it in his. “Box step?”

“Box what?” He began to haul her in a diagonal motion.

Oh hell. Giggles threatened to spill out of her mouth, and she gently tugged on his shoulder. “Slow down and just move around in a circle.”

He tried. He really did, but the look of concentration on his face—teeth gritted in a fixed grin, eyebrows knit tight—made her lose it, and she laughed.

“Thanks,” Dex muttered. “Thanks a lot.”

“I'm sorry for laughing,” she said. “You did warn me about your dancing ability.”

“I did.” He glanced around. “Oh, thank God.” Several couples had joined them, and after a moment he relaxed into a smoother rhythm. “At least they're only staring at you.”

Virginia wanted to tell him that a lot of the people were staring at him too—with quite a bit of curiosity—but she held her tongue because if he got super nervous, he might rip her arm out of her socket. She needed to concentrate since she was acutely aware of his hand on her back, which had begun rubbing gently against her skin in time to the music. She doubted he realized he was doing it or that his chest brushed against her breasts every time he attempted to turn her—but she knew, and the longer they danced, the shorter her breath became. When he finally relaxed enough to look into her eyes, she couldn't stop her lips from parting. He looked at those too.

The music ended and she belatedly realized that people were applauding, so she did as well, loudly, and right into the following silence. Her sharp claps echoed in the large space, and she dropped her hands self-consciously. With a quick smile, she nodded up at Dex and turned to leave the dance floor, forcing herself to walk slowly but not stopping until she reached a fairly deserted area near the windows.

This situation wasn't good. Like, at all. She needed to be able to think straight, and how could she even entertain the idea of
working
with him if she couldn't quit looking at him and fantasizing that . . . no.
No
. Why would she turn down a job in fashion just because she'd danced with the man and liked it a little bit too much? Why would she throw away an opportunity just because she might be uncomfortable? Out of her element? That was it—out of her element, her comfort zone. And into her coward zone.

“Come
on
, Virginia,” she muttered.

“You okay?” Dex caught her arm gently. “Did I step on your feet?”

“No, of course not. You—” She looked up at him, her gaze skimming over his firm lips.
You set my body on fire
. “Really, you did just fine.”

He smiled down at her. “Thanks for saving my ass back there. I'd like to say my ass was underrated . . .” He paused. “You know, like I joked that yours was overrated . . . Never mind.”

“Dex?”

“Yes?”

“There isn't
any
type of rating that could be assigned to your ass
or
your dancing.”

“I don't think I have any choice but to take that as a compliment,” he said.

“Agreed.” She paused. “So . . .”

“Hmm?” He leaned down.

“I accept your offer, contingent upon taking a look at Lilah's. If I feel like I can do the job, I'll be your consultant.” She paused again. “I feel positive about the opportunity, though.”

He went very still for a moment, his eyes riveted on her, and then everything about him relaxed. “I choose to take that as a compliment as well. A very high one. Thank you.”

Pleasure rushed through her, and she relaxed too. “You're welcome.” It was the right decision. As far as Owlton was concerned, she needed to take some time and form a plan anyway. She couldn't rush in, and if she really was turning over a new leaf, she needed to wait until the paparazzi quit trailing her constantly. With any luck, once she quit going to the clubs, they would lose some interest. It was the wise thing to do. She wasn't avoiding dealing with Owlton. She was being
wise
. “I'll stop by Lilah's on Monday morning, if you don't mind.”

“Not a bit.”

She grinned. “Hey. You want to go tell your sister that I'm probably going to work for you and see what she does?”

“God, no.” Dex's eyes widened. “That is, she's already on edge.”

“Aww, come on.” She put her hands on his arms.

Dex shook his head quickly and leaned close to whisper. “Let's leave Ariel out of this, okay? Right now we're being stared at like we both have two heads. Let's just go before anyone—”

A couple of feet away, flashes of light bounced off the windows and Dex turned to look. Three or four people with cameras stood on the sidewalk outside, and when Virginia smiled automatically, the flashes increased.

“Too late, Dex. We'll be in the
New York Post
tomorrow morning.”

Dex paused for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I'll wrap my head around that later, but for now, why don't we get out of the line of fire.”

“Oh, I wouldn't phrase it quite that way around my agents,” Virginia teased and was rewarded with Dex's deep chuckle before he guided her away from the windows. She glanced around, spotted Silent, and signaled to him that it was time to go.

A few minutes later Virginia settled next to Dex in the SUV, which pulled away from the curb and headed toward the Upper West Side. It was fully dark outside now, and though Dex's face and the front of his shirt were intermittently lit by the street lights, the rest of his large frame was shrouded in shadows. She wasn't any less aware of him, though. In fact, the warmth of his body was magnetic. Before her brain registered that it probably wasn't a great idea, she turned until her knees nestled against his leg.

“Did you have a good—”

“Was it a fun evening?” he asked at the same time.

When she laughed, his lips curved up into a smile. “Yes,” she answered. It was the truth too—despite her nerves, she'd had a great time. Dex was fun. And so sexy.

“I enjoyed it too,” he said quietly, his gaze searching her face. “So, back to my place?” The minute the words left his mouth, he cringed. “I mean—not that. You know . . .”

“Yes, I know what you meant. We'll drop you off,” she said, laughing again. She patted his leg, but before she could remove her hand, his fingers brushed the top of it and he lifted it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, sending tingles down her arm.

“Thanks for coming with me, Virginia,” he murmured, looking at her.

Her breath hitched. “You're welcome. I want . . .” She trailed off, knowing that she couldn't say what she was thinking—that she didn't want the evening to end but that it had to. First dates with Secret Service agents along for the ride could get awkward, fast. She didn't want this to end awkwardly.

“You want . . . ?” Dex prompted.

“I want to thank you too.” She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned up to kiss his cheek, her heart beating fast. And then, impulsively, she gave him a peck on the lips. She shouldn't have, but she had to know what they felt like—wondering about those lips had been driving her crazy. They were firm and supple, and the peck lasted a bit too long. As she settled back into her seat and stared straight ahead, her heart sped up. It had just been a friendly thank-you kiss, right? Surely he wouldn't think it was a big deal.

Next to her, Dex shifted and cleared his throat, so she glanced over just as light from a neon sign washed through the windows, bathing him in a warm glow. He stared at her, his eyes full of intensity, and those lips—those amazing lips—dropped open slightly. She jerked her gaze away and looked out the window. Okay, it had been more than a friendly thank-you kiss, hadn't it? Oh, God.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, and when the SUV pulled over in front of Dex's building, she turned to him with a smile. “So . . .”

He smiled back. “I'll be counting the hours until Monday morning,” he said in a low tone. “Good night, Virginia.”

“Good night, Dex.”

He got out and walked away, a bemused smile on his handsome face.

Chapter Four

W
HEN
V
IRGINIA WOKE
up on Sunday morning, it was to the terrifying greenish-yellow eyes of a cat—a cat planted firmly on her chest, its huge paws splayed on either side of her neck. “Don't hurt me,” she whispered, slowly moving her hands to brace herself on the mattress. “Good kitty. Good boy, Junior Mint. Now go ahead and jump off, okay?”

Junior Mint yawned and his awful breath made her head snap back. “That's it,” she muttered, turning her face. “Off.” She sat up and whooshed out a breath as the mighty weight lifted from her chest and the cat tumbled to the side. He half rolled, half jumped onto the hardwood floor, letting out a grunt before sauntering toward the doorway.

“Why won't you sleep in your own bed? I bought you a nice bed,” she said. Junior Mint completely ignored her and left the room. After a moment, Virginia heard the tell-tale crunching noise of the behemoth animal eating from his dry food bowl in the kitchen. “Asshole cat.” He wasn't, though, not really. He just missed Sam. Virginia sighed, got out of bed, and pushed open her bedroom curtains to wake herself up. Bright sunlight streamed in, and for the first time in a long time on a Sunday morning, she didn't whimper because of a hangover. Instead, she took a moment to enjoy the view of the Chrysler Building and think about last night and what it meant—or didn't mean, as the case might turn out to be. But the more she thought about Dex Cameron, the more intrigued she became.

After her agents had dropped him off, she'd felt the lack of his presence a lot more than she wanted to admit. The lingering memory of his lips underneath hers had filled her with longing, and by the time they'd made it back to her building at Tudor City in East Midtown, she'd been unsettled, not wanting to be alone. But then, she rarely wanted to be alone, even if she
lived
alone. So she'd called Stacey, who'd left whatever bar she'd been hanging out in and bounced over to drink most of a bottle of wine by herself and then pass out in the extra bedroom. Virginia half wished that her friend wasn't here because she still felt unsettled.

Everything that was bothering her came back to Dex. There was no doubt that he would introduce her to potential clients, but she knew deep down that the moment he did, she would be miserable. She didn't know enough about real estate. Her gut, which ached, told her the painful truth: she probably wasn't going to be able to make Owlton a success—and she didn't want to. She wasn't interested. And it hadn't been fair of Sam to leave her the company, especially since it was mostly dead. Was she really obligated? Or did she think she had to try just because people expected that she wouldn't?

Turning away from the window, Virginia flopped back down on the bed and stared across the room at the only other pieces of furniture in the cramped area—her desk and chair. Her virtual shopping command center. She loved the comfy old leather chair, which had been her dad's when he'd been governor of Wyoming. The second-hand desk was too big for the room, but she'd never get rid of it—it was vintage, solid wood, and full of nooks and crannies. Most of them were stuffed with catalogs, but one day she planned to organize it. Maybe today. Or . . . maybe she would just go online and check the headlines first. And then do some virtual shoe shopping. She nodded, already feeling better.

After running into the bathroom, she sank cross-legged into the chair and opened her laptop, deciding to Google herself. She fully expected there to be some new hits today, and she wasn't disappointed. Sure enough, the
Post
had thrown up a photo of her and Dex in the park, sitting next to each other. Another photo showed them at last night's benefit, leaning in to each other. They were backlit by the party and their faces were only in profile, but it looked as if they were about to kiss. She stared at it in fascination; then her gaze flicked to the caption: “Virginia Fulton steps out at the Children's Art Initiative Gala with Dexter Cameron III. First Daughter's new beau?”