Various States of Undress: Virginia (11 page)

Yeah, he had. It was really more like ninety-seven and a half. But he didn't tell her that—instead, he took that step forward and cupped her elbows. “Four days, ninety-six hours, same thing.”

She leaned toward him and her breasts brushed against his chest. “Okay. That is a long time and I probably should have called.” When he raised an eyebrow, her lips curved into a smile. “Okay, yes. I should have. And I'm attracted to you, too, whether or not it's a good idea.”

“As long as we have that straight,” he muttered, his arms wrapping around her.

“Okay,” she said again, except this time it was in a throaty whisper that sent electricity singing through his body. A second later, he captured her mouth with his own, reveling in the silky feel of her hands wrapping around the back of his neck. She tasted like champagne and excitement—and something deeper, something comforting. He couldn't get enough.

He kissed her slowly, savoring the softness of her lips and finally, when he couldn't hold back anymore, he swirled his tongue around hers and pulled her closer. His hands wrapped around her narrow waist and dragged their way up her ribcage to the sides of her full breasts; when she gasped into his mouth, he began to massage their softness. She tore her mouth from his, stood on tiptoe, and bit gently on his earlobe. “What are you doing to me, Dex?”

He shuddered at the feel of her warm breath fanning his neck. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured, sliding his hands over the front of her full breasts. Through the thin sweater and bra, he skimmed his fingers across her stiff nipples, and when she groaned, he stroked his thumbs over them. He had to have them in his mouth. He'd explode if he didn't. Dipping his head, he lifted the hem of her sweater and ran a hand over her belly.

“Um, Dex?” she asked.

“Hmm?” He stroked his hand up and over the silky lace of her bra, splaying his fingers wide to cup one of her breasts. Ah, heaven.

“We're going to end up in my bedroom in about two minutes,” she said breathlessly.

“Good.”

“I'm sure it would be—oh, God,” she whispered as he dipped his head under her sweater and tasted her cleavage. It was so silky, and when her hands came around his head and pushed him closer, he smiled and gently rubbed his stubbly jaw against the astonishingly sheer lace covering a nipple.

“I can't believe I'm saying this.” She sighed, and he felt her hands pushing down, pushing him away. “We . . . we can't do this.”

Dex closed his eyes in frustration. “Why?” His voice sounded muffled, and through the fog of lust, he realized that he probably looked a tad ridiculous, hunched over with his head jammed up her sweater. Still, he couldn't resist running his tongue down her abdomen as he made his exit. When he stood up and looked at her glazed eyes and open mouth, it was all he could do not to take her right back into his arms.

“I . . . it's too fast.” She folded her arms over her breasts. “I have to be careful.” The minute she said those words, she winced. “I mean, who doesn't? It's not you.” She rolled her eyes. “It's me.”

Dex gazed at her, and he began to nod. Of course she couldn't sleep with him right now, and she was wise not to. They barely knew each other, and she couldn't trust him any more than she could any other guy not to blab all over the place that he'd slept with the president's daughter. He wouldn't be that callous—ever—but she had a right to think that he might be. “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms.

When worry flashed in her eyes, he smiled gently and motioned her forward. “I only want to hold you for a minute. And tell you that I understand what you're trying to say. I'm not insulted, sweetheart.”

She nodded, her chin trembling, and then she flung herself into his arms. He rocked her back and forth, kissing her hair. And then because he couldn't help himself, he kissed her pale cheek and then her lips. Softly. “I think I better go,” he murmured.

“Yeah.” She pulled away and gazed at him with tear-filled eyes. “I'll see you . . .”

His eyes widened. Why was she crying? “Tomorrow. You'll come in to Lilah's tomorrow. Give me a time.”

She let out a weak laugh. “Um . . . I have to do some things in the morning.”

“Like what? I'm pinning you down, just so you know.” He smiled at her in an attempt to cheer her up. Should he ask her what's wrong? He opened his mouth, but she turned to the side and coughed.

“Oh, I can tell you're trying to pin me down,” she said. “Well—I need to go see Sam's attorney at ten. And then I have another appointment at one, so let's say three. I'll be at Lilah's at three. Will that do?” She looked at him and then quickly away.

Dex stared at her for a moment. Something was definitely off—something she didn't want to tell him. “I know it's none of my business, but is everything with the Owlton Company okay?”

She raised her hands and let them drop back to her sides. “It depends on how you look at it.”

“What do you mean?”

“From your perspective, let's say, things are probably pretty good, because you're busy, and you won't have to make time to introduce me around to potential clients.”

He frowned. “Virginia, I've told you more than once that I don't mind that a bit. We have a deal.”

“Had,” she said, and then she turned away from him, her back completely straight. “I'm dissolving Owlton, Dex. I can't do it. I don't
want
to do it.” Her voice broke and her shoulders began to shake. He opened his mouth to say something, but instinct told him not to. So he watched her, and her obvious pain brought a lump to his throat. A moment later, she shook her hands in the air and spoke through tears. “Could you just go, please? I don't let anyone see me cry.”

“I understand,” he said softly. “Will you—”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I may be a flake, but I'm not going to flake out on you.”

“I don't think you're a flake,” he said. “I wasn't talking about work. I was going to ask, will you be okay?” He ran his hand across her stiff back. “I don't want to leave until I know that.”

She didn't say anything for a moment. “I'll be fine.”

Circling around her, Dex lifted her face in his palms and ducked his head to look into her eyes. She closed them. “I'll be fine,” she repeated. “I appreciate your concern, Dex, but you know that feeling when the last thing you want is someone fussing over you because the more they fuss, the harder you'll cry?”

“Not really.” The only person who'd ever done much fussing over him was the nanny he'd had when he was five. “But I understand what you're saying.” He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I'll see you tomorrow, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay.”

He crossed to the front door and left, closing it softly behind him. As he walked down the hallway, his heart hurt for her. And it bothered him that she didn't quite believe that his intentions toward her were honest. He had no control over her feelings, but he could do something to prove his confidence in her—something that would show his commitment. He stopped next to the elevator and leaned against the wall. She was beautiful, smart, irrepressible—she had a unique spirit. Right as the doors slid open, it came to him and he smiled. He would ask Virginia to be the face of Lilah's. He would put her image on all of the advertising. That ought to prove his confidence in her and . . . then what? All he knew was that he had to find out.

Chapter Six

A
S
V
IRGINIA LEFT
the attorney's office the following morning, her eyes felt like puffy dried-up creek beds, and probably looked about the same. To her credit, she hadn't cried when she'd signed the papers to dissolve Owlton, and she hadn't cried when she'd told the attorney to put Sam's apartment on the market, but then, she hadn't had any tears left.

She'd instructed the attorney to donate all of her profits to a charity, but even that hadn't made her feel much better because she still felt an oppressive sense of guilt and the anxiety of not having told her parents. She didn't know which thing was worse, but she did know which one she could solve.

When she got into the SUV, she pulled her phone from her bag and dialed her mom. It rang and rang, and just as Virginia thought she was off the hook, Marie Fulton answered breathlessly. “Hello?”

A fresh wave of anxiety made Virginia's stomach drop. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“Fine. You've been crying though, and after I saw the TMZ clip last night, I can guess why.”

“TMZ,” Virginia said in a wooden tone. “I didn't see any paparazzi yesterday.”

“It was a still photo, probably taken by some shopper who made a quick buck by selling it to TMZ. You know how it works, Virginia. Come on.” Marie's voice held a note of resignation, and Virginia leaned her weary head on the back of the seat, picturing her mom standing in her office in the East Wing, frowning, smoothing her gray bobbed hair like she did when she was worried. Virginia hated making this call—hated it. It was just another in a long string of similar calls, which usually ended with the words:
“I didn't mean to. It just happened.”
Well, this time, she'd meant to—but that didn't make it any easier.

“Virginia?” Marie prompted.

“I'm glad you're fine, Mom. I'm not—as you guessed—but I will be.” She paused, sniffing to help clear her stuffy nose. It didn't help much. “I've just been through a very . . . eventful week, and as a result, I've made some decisions.”

“Oh? Decisions are good.” This time her mom's voice was neutral.

“Yeah. Uh . . .” Virginia trailed off when Muscles looked at her over the backseat. “Just a sec, Mom. Yes, Muscles?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but where to?”

Virginia chewed at her lip for a second. She was supposed to get her hair done in a couple of hours, but just the thought of making bright chit-chat with the stylist who always preened and pumped her for details about her social life—blech. She didn't feel the slightest urge to eat lunch, either, and if she were being truthful—which she was going to try to be today, come hell or high water—all she really wanted was to go see Dex.

“Lilah's,” she told Muscles.

“What's Lilah's?” Marie asked.

“It's where I work,” Virginia answered. “I have a job as a fashion consultant.” As she said the words, an unexpected shiver went up her spine, and she felt herself blush with pleasure. “I'm helping revamp a historic department store—on my way there right now, actually, so I'll e-mail you the details later. I'm really excited about it.”

“I can tell,” Marie said sincerely. “Good for you, honey. But what about real estate? I was under the impression you were looking forward to running your own company. Can you manage both?”

“Not really. So I'm not going to,” Virginia answered. “A little while ago I signed papers to dissolve the company.” She spoke quickly, hoping to explain before her mother cut in. “It was dead before I inherited it. I don't have the experience to bring it back, and—”

“Oh, Virginia.”

“I can tell what you're thinking, Mom, but I didn't take the easy road out. I took the smart one. I did what's best for me in the long run.”

Marie sighed. “You sound like Carolina.”

“Good. She's happy, isn't she?”

“Of course she is, and I don't worry about her. You, on the other hand . . .”

“What about me?” Virginia knew her tone was defensive, but she couldn't help it.

“What exactly happened at Saks Fifth Avenue yesterday?”

Virginia winced. “Oh, that.” She'd repressed that. Most of her thoughts since that incident had been a constant circle of Dex, his lips, the Owlton Company, Lilah's, and then Dex again. It always came back to him and his sexy smile. She exhaled.

“Don't sigh at me, young lady. Take a minute and look at this from my point of view. One day you make a scene in one of the most famous department stores in the world, and the next you tell me that you're letting go of an opportunity to run your own company. What are you going to do next? And how is the White House supposed to handle that?”

“I don't know, and again, I don't know,” Virginia answered through tense lips. “I only called to give you a heads-up on what I
do
have planned.” She paused. It was on the tip of her tongue to start whining that what had happened at Saks had been a simple accident—she'd tripped on her own shoe—but whining about it would serve only to dredge up all the times that she'd been purposely acting stupid in public recently. “Plus, I wanted to say hi, of course.”

“Well, thank you for that,” Marie said, her voice exasperated. “Look, your dad is going to be in New York soon. He has a meeting at the UN, and he wants to stop by and see you.”

Her dad would pretend that it was only a friendly visit, not an excuse to check up on her, but Virginia knew better. “Okay. It'll be great to see Dad. If it makes you feel any better, I'm keeping the stuff about Owlton as quiet as possible. It could be that nobody will notice.”

“Suuuure. Maybe by some
miracle,
someone in public records won't see your name on those documents,” Marie said, and then she sighed. “I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. It's just that—Virginia, you're my first born. I know I can't protect you anymore, but I want more than anything for you to stick to a plan that will make you happy.”

The tears that Virginia thought were gone welled up again. “I know, Mom. And I realize that what I'm doing is not typical for me. You . . . you never pushed me the way that you did Carolina and Georgia. I'm not blaming you—just stating a fact, but I need to push
myself
now. I need to make my life happen. Will you trust me?”