Various States of Undress: Virginia (8 page)

“What do you think?” Dex asked in a neutral tone.

“Wow,” she blurted out. “Wow.”

He chuckled. “I can respect that answer.” Glancing at the agents, he raised his hands. “Is it okay if I show her around?”

“Sure,” Silent muttered, and he went to browse very close to the main entrance. Muscles stepped a few feet away, pretending to look at a circular rack of double-knit polyester slacks. Most of them were white and all of them had elastic waists. Virginia nearly fainted from the horror of it—Stacey had been right. This store might be hopeless.

“Virginia?” Dex smiled at her.

“Yes?”

“Don't freak out on me.” He motioned to the left where Muscles was dutifully fingering the pants. “This is our ladies casual wear department. Obviously it needs attention.” His hand swept forward. “In the cases behind are accessories—belts, scarves, and things like that. Handbags are on the shelves.”

Virginia peered at the rows of purses, arranged by color. The entire wall looked like a frumpy rainbow. “I see.”

Dex pointed across the lobby to the left. “Ladies dresses and lingerie are over there.” He leaned down and lowered his voice. “I'm no expert, but it's even worse. You can explore that another time.”

“Good idea,” she said weakly. “Um, how many floors are there to this store?”

“Two. Menswear is upstairs. Back in the day, we had four floors and carried home goods and furniture, but we don't anymore.”

“Good idea,” she said again, then winced. “Sorry, I . . . well. Lilah's needs some TLC.”

“That's putting it mildly,” he agreed. “Don't worry, Virginia. I'm on your side, and I'm well aware the store needs a lot of help. It's barely been changed since it opened in 1948.”

There was a loud sniffing sound from behind a rack of blouses, and Dex grit his teeth—kind of like he had last night while he'd been dancing. “Shit,” he muttered. And then—“Brace yourself.” She'd already been
doing
that. What now?

“Ruston,” Dex said in a hearty voice, “come meet my associate.”

The blouses rustled and a short, thin man in a three-piece suit slid silently into place next to Dex. He wore round, black-rimmed glasses and a sneer. When he raised a hand to adjust his pocket square, Virginia spotted a pinky ring. He hadn't looked at her yet, and she waited. It usually took people a few minutes to adjust once they recognized her. She didn't mind being stared at, but right now, the only person doing the staring was Dex. She shifted under his gaze.

To her surprise, when Ruston finally deigned to look over, he didn't wear the usual expression of shock—quickly followed by an attempt to hide it. He merely turned his head slowly and trained his gaze on her hair. When he'd stared at that for a moment, his gaze drifted over her face, then her Givenchy tee, then her pink jeans, and finally at her espadrilles. He pointed at them, his finger making a sharp circling motion. “Lanvin?”

“Fendi,” she corrected, hiding a smile. “Hi there. I'm Virginia Fulton. Great to meet you . . . Ruston?” She glanced at Dex, whose gaze was fixed on her lips.

Dex coughed. “Sorry, how rude of me. Virginia, meet Ruston Rousseau. He's the manager of Lilah's. Ruston, Virginia is considering working as a consultant for us.”

Ruston's eyebrows went up a millimeter. “Lovely. Please
do
let me know how I can help. I've been here for—what is it, Mr. Cameron? Let me think . . . twenty years?”

“Thirty,” Dex said. “As you've reminded me often.”

“Ah, yes. Since before you were born. My, my.” Ruston gave them both a brittle smile, his eyes darting between them. “If you'll excuse me, I must see about some stock. Our summer skirts have just come in.”

“Of course,” Virginia murmured. Oh boy. This was looking worse and worse. Why the hell had she already called that lawyer to begin dissolving Owlton? Lilah's needed a lot more than her fashion sense. It needed a team of people to completely take over and transform it. She wanted to do it, but major uphill battles weren't her cup of tea. She
couldn't
do it, and she had to tell Dex. The thought of doing that, though, brought an instant sense of disappointment, and her stomach clenched.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ruston said quickly and weaved his way back through the blouses before heading toward the back of the store.

“Come with me,” Dex murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear. She glanced up at him, ready to shake her head, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and intense—so she just nodded. She'd rather let him down in private. “Where are we going?”

“To see what could be your office,” he answered and led her toward the middle of the store, where an antique elevator stood between two large pillars. A chubby old man wearing a New York Mets baseball cap and a blazer with “Lilah's” embroidered on the front stood up from the folding chair where he'd been sitting. “Going up, buddy?” He glanced at Virginia and his eyes became saucerlike.

“Yes, thanks. I see that you recognize Virginia,” Dex said.

“Jeez Louise,” the man muttered. “You could have warned me.”

“It's more fun this way. Eddie, this is Virginia Fulton. Virginia, this is Eddie Trotter. He's been our elevator man for about fifty years.”

“Fifty-two,” Eddie said as he hitched up his pants before pushing open the accordion gate. “And I've been here long enough to decide what privileges I have. One of them is that I don't stand on ceremony. I believe in being friendly to every damn body, no matter who they are. So nice to meet ya, Virginia. Hop in.”

She grinned at him and stepped into the small car, which featured 1970s wood paneling. “Likewise. I think I like you.”

“Most people do.” He winked at her; slammed the gate behind Dex and Silent, who was obligated to come with; and punched a button. The elevator lifted off with a shudder and didn't stop—shuddering, that is—until it reached the tenth floor. While it went up, Eddie talked nonstop about the Mets, the Knicks, the weather, and then the Mets again. Dex didn't say anything. He stood behind Virginia so close that his chest brushed against her back as the elevator rattled upward. There was just enough space for her to take a small step forward, but she didn't, and when the door clattered open, she felt his hand brush hers and then clasp it. She glanced up at him in surprise, knowing her face was hot, but he squeezed her fingers and gently pushed her forward.

“Thanks, Eddie.” Virginia smiled over her shoulder and followed Dex into a narrow hallway lined with mostly empty bulletin boards. She untangled her fingers from his and cleared her throat.

He smiled at her and then pointed Silent toward a door at the end of the hallway. “If it's okay, could you check out the offices so that Virginia and I can have a private meeting?” Silent nodded and marched down the hall. “Thanks, man,” Dex called after him, and then he turned to Virginia. “There are apartments sandwiched between Lilah's and our offices. They have a separate entrance and elevator, so this elevator shoots straight from the first or second floor to the tenth. Hope the ride wasn't too . . . unsettling.” His voice was pleasant, but there was a thread of tension there too. Sexual tension?

“Unsettling?” If he only knew. No doubt she had lust written all over her face—and very soon, she'd be truly alone with him for the very first time. And probably the last time, since she intended to turn down the job. He'd know what she was thinking if she continued to stare at him, so she looked out the small window next to the elevator instead. He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and as the silence stretched, she got more and more self-conscious. Finally she cleared her throat. “Great view.”

Dex stood close behind her. “Yes, it is. But I'm about to show you a better one.”

Before she had a chance to respond to
that
cryptic comment, the door flew open and Silent strode quickly toward them. “All clear. I'll wait by the elevator.”

“Thanks,” she said, just a bit breathless, as she trailed after Dex. She followed him into another, narrower hallway, which was lined on one side by a row of old-fashioned doors inset with patterned glass. There was none of the noise expected in offices and she glanced up at him.

“Where is everyone?”

Dex smiled. “It's Sunday.”

“Oh yeah.” She let out an awkward laugh.

“But that wouldn't matter because these offices are empty. Lilah's is . . . it's not what it used to be. There are only three offices in use: mine, which I moved into this morning; my grandfather's, which actually hasn't been used in ten years”—he stopped at the door at the far end and gestured—“and yours, if you'll have it. I can have someone come and put your name on the door tomorrow.”

She stared at the frosted glass door in dismay. Her name there would look great—very official—something to be proud of for once, and just thinking about it made it that much harder to tell him she'd changed her mind. The job of fixing Lilah's was way too big for her.

Dex reached for the brass doorknob and opened the door. “Take a look,” he murmured.

When she stepped inside, her jaw dropped almost immediately. There were windows on two sides, floor to ceiling, and the view was spectacular. The floor was covered in soft carpeting, and a huge desk sat diagonally, right in front of the view. “Holy crap. This is amazing.”

“I thought you might like it,” he said. “I came over this morning to see what kind of shape it was in. I didn't expect you until tomorrow, so there's nothing but the desk. So far.”

She shook her head and walked over to the windows, letting her bag slide to the floor. “Dex, I appreciate it, but I have to let you know that I've made my decision. Unfortunately, I don't see how I can do this—”

“I do,” he interrupted, perching on the edge of the desk. “You're smart. I've told you that before.” His gaze zeroed in on her lips again for a second, and then he folded his arms. “You can do it. The salary will be competitive. I'll take care of advertising and dealing with corporate—all I'm asking is for you to revamp the products and the look of the store.”

“Oh, that's all?” She raised her eyebrows. “Piece of cake. If the cake was the size of a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, that is.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Easy.”

All thoughts of letting him down gently flew away as she looked at his stubborn, arrogant expression. She threw her hands in the air and walked over to face him. “Come on, Dex! Be realistic. You need a
team
to fix this store. An army.”

“So hire one.” He leaned toward her. “I need you. And you need me.”

“I don't need you.” She narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was going to tell him about dumping Owlton. Not right now, anyway.

Dex slid off the desk and covered the few feet between them, frowning. “Yes, you do,” he said.

She stared at his mouth, her legs suddenly feeling wobbly. “No, I don't.” She raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself.

“You can choose to keep telling yourself that, or you can make a move.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Move forward.”

She took a deep breath. “I don't know if I can.” The words came out raspy, and the look of irritation in Dex's eyes changed into something much more focused. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned closer. “Make a leap of faith, trust your instincts, and take the job. You'll have my full support.”

As she gazed up into his steady eyes, she was all too aware of her fear. Because of cowardice, she never acted as if she expected anyone to take her seriously—and so they didn't. It pissed her off. She didn't like being pissed, especially not at herself. Dex took her seriously, didn't he? She closed her eyes. “Okay. I'll do it.”

When she opened them, he smiled. “Great. Now . . . about moving forward?”

“Yeah?”

“
Literally
moving forward would be fantastic. I never got to kiss you back, you know.”

“I . . . didn't expect you to,” she said.

“That might be, but the more I thought about your kiss last night, the more necessary kissing you back became to me. And now? I can't think about much else.”

She gripped his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “To be honest, neither can I.”

“Please tell me we can try again. Kiss me and see what happens.” His voice was low and thick.

Virginia's legs almost gave out from under her, and a shuddering breath left her body. She should be taking a step back, not contemplating kissing him again. Her body swayed forward, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders to steady herself. Just as she closed her eyes to think, his mouth descended, hot and sweet, angling over hers and stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips.

“Mmm,” he uttered, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and it was all she needed.

She pushed up onto her toes, her fingers laced behind his neck, and she kissed him. He tasted earthy—wild, almost—and that surprising discovery sent a shock wave through her brain. She kissed him again. “More,” she murmured, even though she knew she shouldn't. His tongue invaded her mouth; he turned and, in one motion, lifted her onto the desk. Electricity sang through her body, and, as she twined her tongue with his, the idea of
shouldn't
started to become hazy. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair and she leaned back—arching her breasts toward him—wanting Dex to press her down with his body.
Please
, she whispered in her mind,
Please, Dex
.

His hands ran over her hips, but he didn't move closer, so she deepened the kiss, letting her hands trail over his smooth jaw, the taut sides of his neck; then she slid her fingers around the lapels of his suit and tugged. With a groan, Dex pulled her against his chest again, his hands skimming up her back to gently tug on the blunt ends of her hair. She complied, letting her head fall back, and his hot, open mouth slid down her throat and nestled in the crook of her neck. He kissed her there, lingering.