Various States of Undress: Virginia (9 page)

“More,” she gasped out loud, clinging to his shoulders.

He kissed her throat again, his tongue branding a circle under her jaw. Then slowly, he pulled away. “We have to stop,” he said, looking into her eyes. “If we don't . . .” He swallowed and she watched his throat work. She hadn't gotten to kiss him there, yet. Dipping her chin, she leaned forward, but he pulled away. He gave her a sheepish smile. “I think we sealed the deal, don't you?”

She half sat, half lay there, panting. After a moment, she nodded. “Of course.” He let her go slowly and then walked back to face the windows, his fingers laced behind his head. Her skin tingled, her lips buzzed, and as reality began to seep back in, so did an unwelcome but familiar feeling of mortification—that feeling that she'd just fucked up. She'd let her senses run away with her. What kind of way was that to start a business relationship?

But it hadn't been fair of him to tease her into kissing him. Frowning at his back, she straightened her shirt and smoothed her hair. He didn't have to
seduce
her into fixing Lilah's, dammit. Why would he think that he had to do that? She'd told him . . . what exactly had she said? She'd said that it wouldn't work. That he needed an army. And then when he'd finally coaxed her into saying yes, she hadn't been overly enthusiastic, had she? Oh, God. He'd come on to her to make sure she'd stay, hadn't he? He'd sealed the deal. Talk about insulting.

She hopped off the desk, crossed the room, and picked up her bag, giving him a cold smile when he turned, the lust in his eyes quickly changing to worry as he stared at her. “Virginia, I—”

She held up a hand. “Don't worry, Dex. I already said yes to the consulting job, and I keep my promises. So I'll have some plans for you to approve in the near future.”

He nodded but wisely didn't say anything else.

“The office is lovely, thanks. I'll be in touch.” Tossing the bag over her shoulder, she walked out and went down the hall. Pausing before going out the main hallway, she squeezed her eyes shut as the realization hit her. She'd just put all of her eggs into one heavily flawed basket. Lilah's. She wasn't sure she could fix it, but at this point, she damn sure had to try. She needed as much support as she could get without broadcasting the fact, which meant going to Stacey for help. Virginia opened her eyes and let out a disbelieving chuckle. She
needed
Stacey? It was hard to believe, but yeah. She needed her air-headed friend, because airhead had a ton of connections in the fashion industry.

Virginia had to go buy that girl a mani-pedi.

Chapter Five

O
N
T
HURSDAY AFTERNOON
, Dex's feet were propped on his desk when he heard the outer office door rattle open, and, just like he'd been doing all week, he scrambled to his feet and peeked out of his doorway to look. And, just like all those other times, the person walking down the hall wasn't Virginia. Most of the time it was Ruston, who'd been snippier than ever. Dex wasn't disappointed this time, either—Ruston practically seethed as he tramped down the hall, a folder clutched in his small hands.

Biting back a groan, Dex casually propped himself in the doorway and folded his arms. “How can I help?”

Ruston stopped in front of him and tapped the folder. “The fall boots. I'm wondering when I'll be at liberty to place the order, Mr. Cameron.”

“Could I let you know by the end of the week?”

“Is it safe to assume that by the end of the week, you mean tomorrow?” Ruston asked, peering over the edge of his owl-like glasses.

Dex rubbed his forehead. “Uh, yeah. But didn't you tell me yesterday that you weren't ordering shoes for another week?”

“I'm just getting organized,” Ruston said, “for when the illustrious consultant decides to make an appearance.”

“By illustrious consultant, do you mean Virginia? And by organized, do you mean that you're ordering stock early so that she won't have wiggle room to order what she wants?”

Ruston's lips tightened into a line, but he finally pried them open to answer. “Yes to both questions. Where is she?”

Dex had no idea. She'd said she would be in touch, but three days had gone by and he hadn't heard a thing from her. He'd called. He'd texted. He would have gone to her apartment, but he didn't even know where she lived, and it wasn't as if he could call up the local Secret Service branch office and casually ask without drawing attention to himself. If they ever caught sight of his Internet history, they'd be on alert anyway—because he'd been ogling the plethora of online images of her like a stalker, as if those photos could tell him why she'd chosen to drop off the face of Manhattan. He'd even saved the image of the two of them at the gala, and every now and then he'd click it open, stare at it, catch himself smiling at it, and then get even more anxious. He knew he'd pissed her off somehow, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

Was it because of the kiss in her office? He'd started it, yeah, but flirting with her was irresistible.
She
was irresistible, and they were both adults—well, at least one of them was
acting
like an adult—and it wasn't her. She'd gone off in a snit with no explanation, as if he could read her mind. And because of that, now he was pissed at
her
.

“Well?” Ruston asked.

Dex turned to him, startled. “Well, what?”

“Is Miss Fulton going to grace us with her presence or not?”

“Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes. I'd like for you to approve the new floor arrangement I've created in anticipation of the swimwear arrival next week.” Ruston whirled around and began walking.

Dex rolled his eyes. “I'll take a look, but I'm not going to approve anything just yet.” He followed Ruston to the elevator and, once inside, was grateful for the distraction of Eddie's chatter—or he was until Eddie brought up the subject of Virginia, which he did pretty much every time Dex saw him. Then, of course, Ruston started complaining about her again, and Dex's patience ended.

Just before the elevator arrived at the sales floor, he looked down at the store manager. “Look. You need to calm down, Ruston. Everything will be fine, and you will have a huge hand in the transformation of Lilah's. I couldn't do it without you, which you well know.”

Ruston sighed. “Everything will be fine? Miss Fulton is going to turn this place upside down, and your grandfather's head will simply explode.”

“How do you know? Have you talked to him lately?” Dex grinned down at Ruston, knowing quite well how the other man would react.

“Talk to your grandfather?” A look of pure terror crossed Ruston's face. “Are you kidding? Nobody around
has
to since you took charge, and . . .” He trailed off and glared at Dex. “So you're telling me that since I avoid him like the plague anyway, more than likely I will keep my mouth shut about Ms. Fulton and let her run Lilah's like a train—right off the tracks.”

Dex patted his shoulder. “I'm asking for your discretion. Don't mention the fact that Virginia is working here, should you run into Granddad.” He paused. “Or other members of my family. And please keep an open mind.”

“I can be discreet. But you can't make me like
her
.”

“Well, at least you like her shoes.”

“I like her,” Eddie piped up. “Who wouldn't? What's wrong with you, Rusty?”

“Don't call me that. You only like her because she's famous,” Ruston shot back.

“Bullshit. Right, Dex? You like her a lot, don't you?”

“Mmm,” Dex responded and practically shot out of the elevator when it arrived on the first floor. He didn't get very far, though, because Ariel was waiting for him, tapping her foot on the floor.

“Hey, big brother.”

Just what he needed to plunge the rest of his day into the pit of hell—a visit from his sister. But he had to be civil. He couldn't let her get the upper hand by showing his annoyance. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Just passing by.” Her catlike smile said otherwise. “Ruston, would you give us a moment?”

“Of course.” Ruston gave her a warm smile. “Could I get you anything, dear? Water, tea?”

“Aww, you're sweet. Water, please,” she said. As he walked away, Ruston made a huge show of ignoring Dex, and Ariel burst out laughing. “Looks like you're really making progress here.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked around the store. “But I'm worried. There's no way you can fix this heap enough to get yourself to London, Dex.”

“You ought to worry about yourself, Ariel. I don't see that you're making any progress where Granddad's concerned.”

She shrugged. “I do things my own way.”

That was for damn sure. “What do you want, Ariel?”

“Nothing much. Just thought you'd like to know that I ran into your consultant at Saks about thirty minutes ago.”

Dex's stomach plummeted. “My consultant?”

“Oh, please. Don't try to pretend that Virginia Fulton isn't working for you.” Ariel grinned again.

Dex didn't respond for a moment, and though it killed him to ask, he had to know how she'd found out. “How do you know, Ariel?”

“I'm very good at blending into the background while I'm shopping.” She shrugged. “I overheard her talking to some skinny girl with about three feet of blond hair.”

“Did Virginia see you?”

“Yes, eventually. She was very standoffish, I'll have you know, especially when I asked her why she was working for you. She didn't answer that—just told me that you'd hired her a few days ago. Then she turned right around and ignored me. So rude.”

“Well, you're rude to almost everyone, so I don't see why that's a shock,” Dex responded coolly, even though his heart had begun to hammer. Maybe if he jumped in a cab, he could still catch her there. “Did she say how long she was going to be shopping?”

“Not really. It was hard to make out what she was saying at all since she was so drunk.” Ariel pretended to be shocked. “But I assume she'll be there awhile since she was about to go to a trunk show.”

Dex nodded slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. “I see.” He smiled at his sister. “I'm going to ask a favor, Ariel.”

“I doubt I'll grant it, but what?”

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention Virginia's connection to Lilah's around Granddad. In return, I'll be happy to keep quiet about your faux pas with the estate sale.” He smiled.

Her mouth worked for a moment, and then she put her hand over her chest. “
Excuse
me? Are you blackmailing me?”

“Of course not. It's just a deal between siblings. There's no reason Granddad needs to know that you purchased a million dollars' worth of jewelry to put on the sales floor at Cameron's without having the pieces authenticated first.”

“I didn't know they were fake!” She stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. “And I replaced the loss with money from my own trust fund.”

“Admirable.” He looked at his watch. “Look, I need to go. Would you tell Ruston I'll get back to him about the swimwear arrangement? Thanks. Nice chatting with you.”

“As always,” she spat out. And then as he started to walk away, she raised her voice. “Have fun rescuing the president's daughter. Maybe she'll be sober by the time you show up at Saks.”

There was a gasp near her, and Dex jerked his head around to see Ruston standing there, his mouth open and a bottle of water dangling from his fingertips. Dex turned right back around, and it wasn't until he got to the sidewalk that he let out a disgusted growl.

What was he doing? The last time he'd strong-armed someone into keeping their mouth shut about a business deal—no, make that two someones in the space of ten minutes—was, well, never. He hadn't enjoyed it; instead of feeling a power rush, he'd felt a bit like a coward, his back against the wall, forced to play his hand. But he had to buy more time, time that Virginia was freely taking, apparently, even though there was a good chance she'd already written him—and Lilah's—off. Still, there was only one way to find out, and that was to hunt her down.

Sliding on his sunglasses, Dex jaywalked across Seventh Avenue, hailed a cab, and got in, fidgeting the entire way to Midtown. He paid the driver, flung himself out, and marched into Saks, stopping the first clerk he saw. “Where's today's trunk show?” he asked.

“On three,” the woman answered. A minute later, he was riding an elevator up to confront Virginia. He found her holding a glass of champagne, leaning against a table display of cashmere scarves. She threw her head back, laughing at something the blond girl—her friend from the other day—was saying. He stood there on the edge of the sales floor, willing himself to calm down before he made his way over, but watching her giggle as if she didn't have a care in the world only made him angrier.

“Oh my God, Stacey!” Virginia gasped, “You come up with the
best
names for colors.”

Stacey didn't respond, other than to look around and make sure people were witnessing the exchange. Sure enough, several hangers-on, who stood nearby staring at Virginia, dutifully joined in the laughter. Virginia grinned at all of them and took a healthy swallow of her champagne and then looked at the glass. “Oops. It's gone.”

“I'll get you another,” said a scrawny guy with a nasally voice. He held out a hand embellished with several rings and took her glass. “What's your pleasure, darling?”

Virginia waved her hand casually. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe the Clicquot? Thanks.”

“Maybe the Clicquot,” Stacey echoed. “That would be a great name for a color.”

Virginia laughed again, and so did everyone else, a beat later. “Perfect.”