Various States of Undress: Virginia Read online

  Suddenly, Virginia gasped. “Oh, it’s a great idea! I’ll call the contractors. They’ll probably charge us massive amounts of money for overtime, but it’s worth it.” She turned to Dex, her eyes sparkling. “A stealth grand opening of the new Lilah’s. Tomorrow.”

  “What? Are you two nuts?” Dex shook his head. “That completely flies in the face of good advertising. We don’t have a campaign. We don’t have a central image for the campaign. We don’t have—”

  “We don’t have time to think about all the why nots,” Virginia interrupted. She held up a finger. “Advertising—free. Create a flash mob via Twitter.” She held up another finger. “Lilah’s new motto—For the Young in Spirit. That’s all you need for a campaign. Make it a hashtag, a Facebook post, put it on the website. Use the media for all it’s worth.” She laughed. “They kind of deserve to be used, if you ask me.”

  A slow smile crept onto Dex’s face. “And what about the image?”

  “I have something in mind,” Virginia answered, smiling back. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Uh-oh.” Dex sighed. “So we’re really doing this?”

  She nodded. “Think about this for a moment. What would your grandmother do?”

  Dex’s mind immediately went to the photo of her at eighteen—a world of possibility in her laughing eyes. She wouldn’t even hesitate. So he wouldn’t either.

  He grinned at Virginia. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” She started toward him, but Ruston stepped in the way.

  “Uh-uh,” he said. “Let’s get busy.”

  “The rebel has spoken,” Dex said. “Should we listen to him?”

  “We should.” Virginia leaned up over Ruston’s head and kissed Dex anyway.

  His heart soared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, not long after dawn, Virginia crept into her office and hung two outfits, one for her, and one for Dex, on a coatrack. She closed the door softly and tiptoed over to Dex, who lay sprawled on her sofa, his mouth open. His laptop lay on the floor next to him, and she eased it out of the way. Trying not to giggle, she leaned down and let her hair brush across his lips. When he twitched, she did it again.

  A second later, his hand closed over her wrist. “Stop that,” he said sleepily.

  “Make me,” she whispered.

  He pulled her down on top of him. “Make love to me,” he whispered back.

  “I might.” She gazed down at him affectionately. “How long were you on Twitter last night?”

  “Until three in the morning. We have eight hundred new followers.” He slipped his hand inside her paint-stained T-shirt. His fingers rubbed against the front clasp of her bra. “Did you finish the window display?”

  “Yes.” She unbuckled his belt. “There’s a shower in the bathroom in your office, right?”

  He raised his eyebrows and unsnapped her bra. “Yes.”

  “Did you finish hanging up the men’s suits and fold the . . . the . . . ohhh.” She shivered as his hands closed around her breasts.

  He chuckled. “Did you lock the door?”

  “Mmm. And Muscles is all the way down by the . . . elevator . . .” She gasped as his tongue swirled around a nipple. “Reading . . . the paper.”

  “No more questions,” Dex whispered.

  He slid her shirt up and off, and then tugged at her shorts. She stood up, stepped out of them, and reached for his hand to pull him to his feet. His jeans came off, her panties next, and—a moment later—they were standing skin to skin, her arms around his neck. His fingers grazed up and down her back, finally resting low on her hips. She looked into his clear green eyes, and he smiled at her.

  Then his hands went lower, brushing the backs of her thighs as he bent down and lifted her. He carried her a few steps to the sofa, laid her head down on the armrest, and knelt on the cushions between her thighs. She reached for him, pulling him close, loving the feel of his warm, broad chest beneath her palms. Her hands drifted lower, over his taut belly, and lower still until she closed her fingers around him.

  She watched as he drew in a sharp breath, as his chest rose and fell. And then she let her thighs fall apart a little farther. With a groan, Dex lifted her hips, and she guided him closer and closer until, with one slow, smooth thrust, he buried himself inside of her, his fingers tight around her hips. Her mouth dropped open at the fullness of him, and when he drew back and thrust again, sliding into her wet heat, she arched up, reaching for him. Her fingers found his shoulders, and Dex shifted, pulling her up, settling her onto his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and rocked against him—once, twice—and then he spoke into her ear, his voice a raspy whisper.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, his arms circling around her back. She lifted her head and met his adoring gaze. He began to move then, his eyes never wavering, though they slid half closed with pleasure. Virginia watched his desire build as she matched his achingly slow rhythm, her breaths shorter and shorter as bliss unspooled deep within her. He quickened the pace, and that bliss spread throughout every inch of her body, every bit of her consciousness, until it burst into light; she threw her head back as waves of exquisite pleasure coursed through her. She felt Dex’s lips bury against the crook of her neck, and his low, quiet moan mingled with hers, the sound reverberating against her throat.

  He held her like that for a long moment, his heart hammering against hers, both of them clinging to the other, as one. Eventually she relaxed against him, her body sagging, and she returned her head to his shoulder, smiling against his skin as he dropped a lingering kiss to her temple. “Oh, Dex,” she said.

  “Mmm,” he replied. “Good morning.”

  “Does it have to be morning yet?”

  “It was morning when you got here, sweetheart. The sun is up.”

  She lifted her head and turned toward the window, squinting. “Ow.” Then she turned back to him, a tired smile on her face. “I bet I look pretty awful, huh?”

  He gave her a once over. “How do I answer that without getting smacked?”

  “You tell me that I’m gorgeous and invite me to take a shower with you.”

  Dex grinned and gently lifted her away until she stood in front of him, her legs wobbly. “Come on, gorgeous. You have pink paint on your face. And . . .” He ran a thumb along her jaw. “I think that might be dried-on mustard.”

  “What?” She slapped a hand against her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You seduced me. I’m not going to let condiments get in the way of that.”

  Virginia threw her head back and laughed, pushing him away when he reached for her shaking breasts. “Get dressed and let’s sneak down to your office.”

  “Fine.” Dex sighed, but did as she asked. A half hour later, he stood next to her desk, his hair still wet as she adjusted his tie. “You didn’t dress me like a hipster,” he said, a marveling note to his voice.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” She stepped back and twirled in front of him, catching the light, airy folds of her red sundress in her hands. “What do you think?”

  “So beautiful,” he said. “And you’re mine. I can hardly believe it.”

  “Believe it, Dex. I’m yours for as long as you’ll put up with me,” she replied.

  He reached out and caught her hand. “Then you’re stuck.”

  “Come on. I want to show you everything before we open.” Laughing, Virginia pulled him into the hallway and toward the elevator. Muscles sat in a folding chair, a paper resting on his lap. “Good morning,” he said, reaching behind his head to punch the elevator button. “Look.” He flipped the paper up and smiled. “Charlie made the front page of the Post.”

  Virginia stared down at a photo of her and Dex standing on the sidewalk in front of Duane Reade, locked in an embrace. Her clothes looked hideous and there was a big kink in the back of her hair, but her flip-flops looked amazing. She was smiling under Dex’s kiss, and his hands were curled possessively around her hips. Next to them, h
is arms spread wide, was Charlie, his mouth a grim line. “Awesome. Good for Silent. I know he’s always secretly wanted to be a celebrity.”

  “At least somebody does,” Dex said.

  Muscles chuckled and stood up as the elevator arrived and then helped Eddie pull back the gate. “Big day, Eddie,” Virginia said as she stepped inside.

  “The biggest,” he agreed. “Already got a line around the block. And those reporters? Rusty tells me they’ve been setting up outside since five in the morning. I’ve never seen that at Lilah’s before. Never.” He winked at Virginia. “Thank you.”

  She felt a blush spreading across her face. “You’re welcome. I hope you have fun today.”

  “I’ll have stories to tell for weeks, I’m sure.”

  “Me too,” Dex muttered and leaned to the side as Virginia elbowed him.

  When the elevator arrived, she clapped her hands over his eyes. “Don’t look yet.”

  “Okay.” He put his hands out in front of him and let her guide him into the lobby.

  She stopped for a moment and just looked. All the clerks, including Doris, were standing in a row by the drooping potted plants near the elevator. In place of smocks, they wore funky peasant tops. She grinned at them, and then her gaze swept over the clustered displays of colorful bags, shoes, and clothes. Each area featured a mannequin on top of an old display case, and, at Virginia’s urging, Ruston had taken the responsibility of dressing each one. They were fabulous, edgy, and even a little bit provocative.

  “Can I look now?” Dex asked.

  She let out a long breath. “Yes, but look exactly where I’m pointing, first.” Slowly she removed her hand from his eyes and pointed above the front door at the giant framed photo of Lilah Cameron standing in Times Square, holding the American flags. Right above the photo were the words “Lilah’s—Be Young in Spirit.”

  Virginia glanced at Dex, who looked up for a long time. He swallowed and then turned to her, a sheen in his eyes. “Thank you. How did you . . . ?”

  “It’s New York City, Dex. You can get anything, anytime—even oversized posters in the middle of the night.” She laughed, her voice slightly choked up. “I put Stacey on it.”

  “I rocked it too,” said Stacey, who sashayed forward in sky-high heels. “Oh, and by the way, Virginia told me I could work here now.”

  “She did?” Dex turned to Virginia with a raised eyebrow.

  “Head buyer,” Virginia said. “She’ll be amazing.”

  “Woot!” Stacey did a little dance move.

  “Then what does that make you?” Dex asked.

  “General manager.” She grinned. “And Ruston is the store manager. And you . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re the CEO.”

  When Dex groaned, she pulled him forward, laughing. “Fun, huh?”

  “Mmm. But I think the joke’s on you, sweetheart. Stacey and Ruston working together? Have a ball, general manager.”

  She groaned and then turned when she heard the unmistakable sound of Ruston impatiently clearing his throat. “Hi, Rebel,” she said weakly.

  “Hello.” He glared at her and then looked at her outfit. “That’s lovely.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ruston sniffed. “Mister Cameron, I have that item you requested.”

  “Good.” Dex stepped in front of Virginia, blocking her view. When he turned around and faced her, he reached out his hand. “Come with me.”

  “Okay.” She allowed him to lead her to one of the display tables. “What are we doing?” Dex pushed merchandise aside and lifted her onto the table.

  He smiled at her nervously and then dropped to his knees and slid his hand into a coat pocket. He fumbled for a few seconds, and then something small and sparkly dropped onto the marble floor. He snatched it up, turned it in his hands, and held it in front of her like an offering. It was a brilliant diamond ring.

  “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

  GEORGIA 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 jus
t 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.