Various States of Undress: Virginia Read online

  “Virginia, not here. We . . . dancing. Then—”

  “My place,” she interrupted and lowered her head to kiss him again, but he averted his head.

  “Dance,” he choked out, his hands running up her hips to her waist. He lifted her to her feet and then stood up, not-so-subtly adjusting the front of his pants. “Fuck, I’m hot.” He stripped off his sweater, threw it on the floor, and, with one hand, unbuttoned his shirt until it was open partway down his chest. “Better.”

  She giggled and allowed him to lead her out of the room, down the stairs, and onto the packed dance floor. Dave and Nick stayed close, their jaws tight. When they exchanged a glance, for a fleeting moment, Virginia thought they might dance with each other. She threw her head back and laughed at the mental image, just as Dex’s arms came around her waist and he stepped on her foot. Pain shot from her toes up to her shin.

  “Shit!” she yelled out. “Motherfucking—ow. Ow!”

  “Oh fuck. I’m so sorry!” Dex yelled above the throbbing music. “Are you okay?” He grabbed her again and half hauled, half bounced her toward the edge of the floor, the agents grabbing his arms like octopuses. “Fuck!” he repeated, shrugging them off. They pulled him away and surrounded her.

  “Miss Fulton, are you okay?” asked Dave.

  She nodded and flexed her foot. “I’m fine. Let go of me, okay?”

  Several people nearby looked sideways at their odd little group, and a couple of club floozies whispered behind their talonlike nails. They’d recognized her. Virginia would have groaned if she’d had the breath. “Where’s Dex? Let him through.” She peered over one of the agent’s shoulders, and he reluctantly took a step back. Dex rushed forward and took her hands.

  “Virginia, I can’t believe that I—”

  “I’m fine. You just surprised me is all.” Her foot really did hurt only a little bit now, though maybe that was due to adrenalin. Whatever it was, she was going to take advantage of it. “Let’s dance.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  She stood up and yanked him toward the floor, hoping to get away from the onlookers, who were growing in number. When she and Dex were near the middle of the floor, she pulled him down to yell near his ear. “Arms around my waist. Follow my rhythm.” And then, without giving him a chance to protest further, she linked her hands behind his neck and began to seductively move her hips against his. He stood there for a moment and then did as she said.

  Within the space of half a song, he’d gotten it, and her gaze was riveted to his. He looked confident. Covetous. A thrill ran through her, and, as the music segued into an intense, wild tempo, she felt his hands slide down to grip her hips, urging her closer. She couldn’t help it—she gave herself over, pressing her face into his damp, hot neck and grinding against him, letting her body speak for everything she wanted to express—her joy for him, her pride in him, her need for him.

  There was a loud whoop nearby, and she lifted her head to see several nearby girls, cell phones aloft, dancing while they snapped photos. Shit! Dex must have sensed something wrong too because, a second later, he’d dropped his hands from her body and stumbled awkwardly to the side, knocking into one of those girls right before he landed on his ass. It had been an accident—Virginia saw that from the split second of shock on his face—but the girl squealed as if he’d punched her. “Sorry!” he yelled.

  “Asshole!” the girl screamed down at him. The rest of the bitches grinned and took photos. Virginia had an almost uncontrollable urge to rake her nails across their faces. She caught Dex’s hand and pulled him to his feet, jerking her head toward the door. He nodded grimly, and she led him off the floor.

  Right as Virginia was about to say something witty to cheer him up, Stacey rushed toward Virginia out of nowhere, her bony arms flailing, her tiny purse dangling from a thin strap and bouncing against her hip. She held a full pint of beer in one hand. “Ginny!”

  Great. Stacey never drank beer unless she was already wasted. “Hey!” Virginia let go of Dex to give her a hug. “So glad to see you. But, um, we were just leaving.”

  “Like hell, you are!” Stacey shrieked. “I haven’t seen you in days. We need to party!” She touched her tongue to the side of her mouth. “Hey, sexy Dexie.”

  Dex frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets, which made Stacey burst out in peals of high-pitched laughter. When he shook his head, she laughed even louder, flinging her arms to the sides, and most of her beer sloshed out of her glass, splattering Dex’s face and the front of his shirt. He jumped back, his hands in the air, and he stood there blinking while rivulets of beer ran down his chest.

  Virginia gasped. “Dammit, Stace.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so drunk,” Stacey said. She set the glass on a table and lurched forward to grab the front of Dex’s shirt. “So, so sorry. Let me—”

  “I’m good,” Dex said. “It’s okay, Stacey.” He pushed her hands away. She put them back.

  “No, no, let me wipe it off,” she responded, annunciating every word, as if that would somehow make her less drunk.

  Virginia rolled her eyes and took Stacey by the shoulders. “He doesn’t need help wiping himself.”

  Stacey erupted in laughter again. “He doesn’t need help—” She snorted. “Wiping himself. You’re so funny.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I know,” Stacey interrupted. “But I couldn’t resist.” She grimaced at Dex. “Sorry. Again.” He nodded and pulled his wet shirt away from his chest. Then Stacey sucked in an exaggerated breath. “Oh my God, Ginny. I almost forgot to tell you. Remember when we were talking about launching Leela’s?”

  “Lilah’s?” Virginia moved closer to hear her over the music.

  “Yeah.” Stacey plopped her purse onto the high table and unzipped it. “So I didn’t mention details—don’t worry, everything was on the DL—but a client of a client of mine owns Flash. And I have his business card.” She dug the card out and waved it, a grin on her face.

  Virginia’s eyes went wide as she took the card. Flash? She’d kill to have a promo party for Lilah’s there. “Stace, the line to get in there is epic—every night of the week. I heard that place isn’t available for private events, no matter what.” She propped her elbows on the table and stared at the card. But maybe . . . maybe if she played the First Daughter card, she could make it happen.

  “True. It’s not open to outside events.” Stacey gave her a coy look. “But I’m not sure that applies to women who are dating the owner.”

  “What? I’m not going to date . . . just to . . . come on, Stacey!”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Ginny. I’m dating him. Have been for a week.” Stacey burst out laughing again. “The venue is as good as yours.”

  Virginia let the news sink in, and her jaw dropped. “Seriously? Oh, that’s amazing! Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Stacey reached for her empty glass and tilted it back and forth. “Wanna celebrate?”

  “You’ve had enough,” Virginia said, but she knew Stacey would put up a huge fuss. One drink wouldn’t hurt—and Dex could probably use one too, after what had happened. “Dex, guess what?” She turned around. “Dex?” She scanned the area, frowning.

  Dave stepped forward. “He left, Miss Fulton.”

  “What?” she said dumbly. “Like—to go to the bathroom?”

  Dave shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Virginia’s heart plummeted and she looked toward the door, but it was too dark to make out anything but a swarm of people. “I need to go, Stace.” She turned around, but Stacey had her phone up to an ear.

  “Yeah, babe,” she said. “You want to talk to her? Okay, hang on.” Stacey made an excited face and pressed the phone to her chest. “Dorian wants to talk to you!”

  “Who’s Dorian?” Virginia asked, still turning her head, looking for Dex.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Stacey said. “My boyfriend? He wants to talk to you about dates for your event. If you don
’t reserve Flash soon, you’re not going to get it at all.”

  Virginia gave her a pained look. “You couldn’t have waited to call him?”

  “Maybe, but I’m drunk and excited about it, so I called him.” She sighed. “God, Ginny. I’m doing you a favor. So are you going to let this slip through your fingers, or what?”

  No, she couldn’t. It was too good of an opportunity for Lilah’s. Virginia took a deep breath and reached for the phone.

  Chapter Ten

  BY FRIDAY MORNING, Dex had looked at the photos of himself online so many times that he’d made himself paranoid. Sometime over the past three days, he’d alternately convinced himself that Virginia pitied him and burned for him. He’d opened himself up to her, and he knew he was falling for her. Every second that he spent with her, his fascination grew. When he wasn’t with her, he thought about her constantly—her infectious smile, her warmth, and her wit. He wanted to tell her how he felt, and he’d been planning to do that. He’d also been planning to tell her about London—and was going to get up the nerve and lay everything out—right after leaving the club. And he hoped that after he did, he would still find himself falling into her arms—and even better—her bed.

  But on Tuesday night, instead of going back to the sanctuary of her apartment, he’d left her high and dry. And after he’d hopped in a cab, his shirt soaked with beer, his phone had dinged with a single text from her: I’m so sorry that happened. Call me when you’re ready. Xoxo. What the hell had that meant? When he was ready? As if somehow his entire world had been ripped apart by silly Stacey and her stupid glass of beer?

  He hadn’t been that upset—he’d been pissed, embarrassed, and he’d acted on instinct. He’d bolted, not bothering to retrieve his sweater or his pride. And then he’d made it worse by not calling Virginia and then Googling himself repeatedly until photos from that night had surfaced, which of course they had. And of course, he’d looked like a fool in all of them, wearing a mostly unbuttoned shirt and a goofy grin as he’d danced. All he’d needed was a gold chain around his neck, and he would have been all set for a disco costume party. In other photos he’d been equally ridiculous, sitting on his ass on the dance floor, looking like an about-to-cry toddler who’d just taken a tumble.

  The worst one was a post-beer debacle, which had captured a shocked, open-mouthed Virginia who’d been attempting to pull Stacey away from his chest. He’d been smiling—on instinct again—and Stacey had looked as if she were about to lick his face. Virginia, despite her expression, had looked every inch the glamour girl—just as she had in the other, more flattering pictures—fashionable, fun, and way out of his league. One of the photo captions on a gossip website had even said that, and he tended to agree. Except for the fact that she’d slept with him.

  She’d more than slept with him. She’d been with him almost 24-7 until three days ago. She’d stared into his eyes many times with a marveling smile on her face. She’d praised him, challenged him, teased him, and infuriated him. She’d made him breakfast, for God’s sake.

  She was, under her sparkling exterior, a wonderfully warm and caring person. Why would he think that she pitied him? But then again, why would he think that she didn’t? She hadn’t called him either, so it was obvious something was stopping her. But everyone else had, if the string of missed calls on his phone was anything to judge by. None of them had been from her—but at least half had been from Ariel, who only wanted to gloat. Several had been from Granddad, who was at the top of Dex’s list of people he had no intention of talking to about those photos.

  But now? He was sick of feeling sorry for himself, sick of avoiding everyone—especially Virginia. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been working—he’d been making a lot of progress on the ad campaign—but it was well past time to quit hiding out in his apartment and actually go to Lilah’s. Dex heaved a sigh as he hailed a cab outside his building. When he was settled inside, he pulled out his phone to call her. As he scrolled the screen, an unfamiliar number popped up on the display and the phone buzzed. Maybe it was her. He could hope, couldn’t he? He answered it a bit too eagerly. “Dex Cameron.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  At the sound of his grandfather’s gravelly voice, Dex pulled the phone away from his ear. “Fuck. Fuck!” he mouthed. And then—“Good morning, Granddad. I didn’t recognize the number.”

  “That’s because I had to resort to using the housekeeper’s phone since you’ve been avoiding me.”

  That was just like the old man—Judy had been his housekeeper for thirty years, and he still wouldn’t refer to her by her name unless he was speaking directly to her. Dex shook his head. “How are you?”

  “Not in the mood for chitchat, that’s how. Are you involved with the president’s daughter?”

  Dex swallowed. “Perhaps.” He didn’t know if he was anymore or not.

  “Stop it. She’s a loose cannon, and I don’t see how the hell she’s doing you any favors. I thought you were attempting to remake the store.” DB chuckled as if he thought Dex’s plans for Lilah’s were a joke.

  “I’m well into the process of remaking Lilah’s, yes. I’m completely focused.”

  “Sure you are. Focused on going out to nightclubs with that dumb girl.”

  Dex bristled. “She’s not dumb.”

  “Bullshit. But I’m not surprised that you can’t see the big picture, since you’re obviously too busy looking at her big—”

  “Stop right there,” Dex interrupted in a steely voice. Fury surged up, half choking him. He didn’t know where he stood personally with Virginia, but the instinct to protect her was overwhelming. She didn’t deserve to be hidden from the old man as if she were some kind of embarrassment. “How I spend my time is none of your business. And it would be in your best interest to adjust your attitude about Virginia Fulton because she’s the reason why Lilah’s is going to be a huge success.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I hired her to breathe new life into the store. And she’s doing a fantastic job. It was my call, and I don’t have to justify my decisions about Lilah’s to anyone. You and I agreed on that, at least.” Dex’s heart hammered as the words came out of his mouth. They sounded cool, detached, although his brain was buzzing with pure anger. “If you intend to start yelling, I’m going to hang up—fair warning.”

  There was a pause and then the old man started in. “Son of a bitch! You stupid—”

  Dex hung up. He sat in silence all the way to the store, the phone clenched between his hands. He didn’t allow himself to think—he just listened to the sound of his own breathing as it slowly returned to a normal pace. After he paid the cab driver, he stood on the sidewalk, adjusted his tie, and walked toward the front doors. It was then that he saw the windows, and he nearly staggered backward.

  The stiff mannequins wearing pastel spring dresses were gone. In their place stood willowy, pale, provocatively posed mannequins wearing halter tops and short shorts. They were a riot of color—from the sequined berets on their heads to the neon platform sandals on their feet. They wore suggestively low-slung belts with huge decorative buckles, and there was fringe everywhere—most of it dripping from the purses draped over their outstretched hands. He ogled for a moment and then glanced at the sign propped in the front of the window. It read “Come shop Lilah’s new look—at our preview sale! Thursday and Friday only!” He slapped a hand to his forehead. Why hadn’t anyone told him? Why hadn’t Virginia told him? And how long had the windows been this way?

  Adrenalin still pumped in his veins from the argument with his grandfather, and he jerked open the front doors and marched inside. A very happy Virginia stood on the sales floor, wearing a slightly more modest version of an outfit from the window display. She kind of looked like a haute couture go-go dancer, and he couldn’t help but ogle her too. When she turned her head and saw him, the brilliant smile on her face faltered, and he stood rooted t
o the marble floor, staring back.

  “Dex!” She hurried over to him. “Um. Surprise!” She laughed and spread her arms toward a section of small racks, which stood where the circular racks of old lady pants had been earlier in the week.

  He glanced at the new pants, then at the glittery tops, and then at another mannequin, which was posed in the middle of the section, standing on top of a glass display case. Its feet were surrounded by bags and jewelry. All of it was a hell of a lot more interesting and twenty times brighter than what had been there before, but why hadn’t she told him she’d been planning it? Maybe he’d been right—maybe she was trying to distance herself from him. “What . . . ?”

  “It’s an experiment,” Virginia said cautiously. “You did say I was in charge of testing the waters . . .” She lowered her voice. “I was going to tell you, but I—” She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think, and then I started to doubt myself, and that got the best of me, and so I convinced myself that a surprise was the way to go. By the time I realized that was the coward’s way out, the awful night at the club happened, and then . . . I didn’t hear from you. I’d already ordered everything to be delivered, so I thought what the hell, and I did it. I should have told you, though.” She looked at him, her expression cautious, but there was something else there too. It was longing. “I’ve missed you.”

  Relief flooded through him at her words. She hadn’t been avoiding him because of him but because of herself. Not that her anxieties weren’t valid, of course, and he knew exactly how she felt—he’d been there too many times to count, doubting himself. As she gazed at him, he had to resist the urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her tenderly. He nodded. “So when did you do all this?”