Various States of Undress: Virginia (22 page)

She stayed there for a moment, completely still; then, with a sigh, she leaned forward and collapsed onto his chest, her thighs trembling. “Oh, God. I'm obsessed with you,” she whispered, enjoying the feel of his hands stroking her back. A moment later, the weight of her words registered in her mind, and she pressed her lips together.

“I feel you tensing up. Don't.” Dex said. “Just look at me.” She raised her face and gazed into his eyes. “I'm obsessed with you too,” he said. “So obsessed. I've never felt this way with anyone before.”

“Me neither.” With a smile, she burrowed her face back into his shoulder, curled up beside him on the bed, and fell asleep.

Virginia woke up five hours later to an insistent, loud knocking on the front door. With a groan she raised her head from Dex's chest and peered around the too-bright bedroom. “What the hell? Make it stop.”

Dex grunted and flopped an arm over her side. “
You
make it stop.” The knocking got louder. “Please,” he added.

“Ugh. This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “Who the hell could it be? The only people who ever knock at my door are Muscles and Silent, and they're a lot more polite than . . .” She trailed off as her awareness sharpened. “Oh my God. What time is it?”

“Huh?” Dex snuggled her closer.

She pulled his arm away, panic beginning to seep in. “What time is it? My dad's supposed to be here at ten.”

Dex was still for a moment and then shot off the bed, tumbling her to the side in the process. A brochure was stuck to his thigh and another to the side of his face. He yanked at both of them and threw them to the ground. “Shit. Shit!”

Virginia nearly laughed, but her panic won out, and she ran around the bed to jerk open her closet door. Throwing on a bathrobe and belting it tightly, she raced to the front door and opened it a crack. “Yes?”

Muscles stood on the other side. “Good morning. Is everything okay?”

Yeah, right. Virginia tried to smile. “Sure.”

Muscles coughed. “Normally I'd be very discreet, but you didn't answer our texts or calls, so I have to be blunt because time is of the essence. We didn't see Dex leave last night.”

Virginia felt a blush creep across her face. “Dex is here. Um, I didn't mean to worry you. My phone is in my purse, which is . . .” She thought for a moment and then realized that she'd dropped it on the bathroom floor before jumping into the shower with Dex last night. “Um—anyway. How much time do we have to get Dex out before my dad gets here?”

“None.” Muscles gave her an apologetic look. “The president's schedule had to be bumped up an hour to accommodate a meeting later today. We tried to let you know, but the building's on lockdown now, and we have to leave our apartment open as a safe room for him. At this point, we don't have time to help Dex find somewhere else in the building to . . . uh . . . hang out.”

She almost screamed as she stood there staring at Muscles. Her dad would know that Dex had spent the night, wouldn't he? With the building on lockdown, what other conclusion could he draw? Muscles must have seen the horror in her eyes because he gave her a keep-your-chin-up-kid kind of look. Grimly, she nodded at him. “Thanks for the heads-up. “What time is it?”

“Ten minutes until nine. You have ten minutes.”

“Thanks.” Virginia gave him a quick smile and shut the door. After taking a deep breath, she whirled around and ran back to her bedroom. Dex was mostly dressed, his fingers flying as he knotted his tie.

“I'll be out of here in thirty seconds,” he said. “If I don't puke first.”

“Don't puke. But, um, you can't leave,” she said.

“What?”

“Building's on lockdown. Dad's here in ten. We have to wing it.”

“Wing what? Wing myself out of your window?”

Virginia's mind raced and then she snapped her fingers. “We're having a breakfast meeting about Lilah's!” She looked at the crumpled mass of catalogs on the bed and grimaced. Those wouldn't do. There were a couple of intact ones on the floor, and she snatched them up, pressed them against Dex's chest, and then dropped her robe. “Take the folders off my desk and arrange something believable on the coffee table. I have to shower.”

Dex stared at her breasts. “Okay,” he said numbly.

“Hey!” She snapped her fingers in his face. “Now is not the time to get all sexy on me.” She grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. “Oh no. Seven minutes? Shower out of the question. Get dressed, Virginia. Make coffee, Virginia.” She nodded a couple of times, took another deep breath, and ran around the bed toward her closet.

“This is really about to happen,” Dex muttered. “Okay.” He sprang into action, grabbed folders from her desk, and disappeared into the living room. Virginia yanked on her most conservative suit, swiped the mass of crinkled pages from the quilt, and kicked them under the bed. Then she ran into the bathroom to make herself as presentable as two minutes would allow. When she went into the kitchen, she glanced toward the living room, where Dex stood with his arms folded. “Mess it up a little bit. That looks like a convention display,” she instructed.

Dex surveyed the neatly fanned out folders and row of pens on the coffee table. “Right.” He didn't make a move but looked at her, his jaw tight. “Do you think that will actually matter in the face of the elephant in the room?”

“Hey, my dad's a big guy, but he's not fat.” She tried to chuckle, but the sound ended with a whimper.

“Your dad, the president of the United States, is about to meet the guy who just spent the night with his daughter,” Dex said.

“Yep,” she said grimly. “And it will be fine.”

It might not, though. She could gush about Lilah's all she wanted to, but her dad was going to give Dex the third degree. Patrick Fulton had an overwhelming personality, a fiercely protective instinct, and experience grilling the boyfriends of three daughters. Lethal combination. She shook her head and poured beans into the grinder and pulverized them, but, just as she pulled open a drawer to grab a coffee filter, there was a rhythmic rapping on the door, followed by a familiar booming voice. “Knock, knock!”

Virginia calmly placed the coffee filter on the counter and looked at Dex. He nodded at her. “We can do this,” he said, his voice full of conviction that she almost believed.

“Damn straight.” She crossed to the door and opened it. Patrick Fulton stood in the hallway, his craggy face split by a big grin. Virginia stared up into his sharp blue eyes, noticing the weariness around them. There wasn't any worry, though, which was rare when he was looking at her. She relaxed a bit and threw herself into his bearlike embrace. “Dad!”

“Oof.” He hugged her back tightly. “You know, I think this is the first time I've hugged anyone in days.” He released Virginia and squeezed her shoulders. “How are you?” he asked in a measured tone.

Virginia tried to smile. “Great. Why haven't you hugged Mom in days?”

“She's in Ohio, helping your sister move out of the dorm and into a house.”

“In the middle of the semester?”

Patrick shrugged. “There was some issue with loud parties. Georgia couldn't concentrate on studying. That one? We never have to worry about her.” He paused. “Not that we have to worry about any of our girls, right? So can I come in and see your place, or are we going to stand in the hall?” He chuckled.

“Of course. My business partner is here, actually, and we were having a meeting breakfast . . . um, a breakfast meeting, and . . . I'd be happy to introduce you.” Virginia smiled again and gestured toward the doorway.

Patrick's expression didn't register an ounce of surprise. “How nice.” He strode into the living room and whistled. “This is pretty big for a place in New York.”

“It's the size of a shoe box. I love it, though,” Virginia said as she followed him in and then turned back toward the open doorway. His Secret Service detail—all five of them—nodded at her in unison, and then one of them discreetly shut the door in her face, trapping her in her own apartment with her suspicious dad and her lover. No reason to panic, right?

She turned around. “Dad, I'd like to introduce you to Dexter Cameron. Dex, meet my dad.”

Patrick took a couple of steps toward a shell-shocked Dex and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

As Virginia watched, Dex stared at her father and took his hand. “Likewise, Mr. President.” He shook it a little bit too enthusiastically and then dropped it like a hot potato, his gaze never wavering. He and Patrick were the same height, and it looked as if they were engaged in a staring contest. Yikes. Maybe they were.

She stepped forward. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” answered Patrick.

“Yes, please,” Dex said at the same time. Both men cleared their throats.

Virginia crossed into the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker. “I'll give you a tour in a minute, Dad. Make yourself comfortable.” When Patrick sat down on the sofa, Dex did too, and with a smile. So far, so good. When she'd finished prepping the coffee, she joined them, perching on the edge of an armchair, swinging a leg back and forth in an attempt to look carefree. It was then that she noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes. Quickly, she crossed her ankles and tucked her feet as far back as possible.

“So, Dad. Dex's family owns Cameron Enterprises, and Dex is in the process of revamping the department store where the company got its start.”

“Lilah's, yes.” Patrick nodded. “You mother told me about it. And you're his . . . consultant?”

Yes, I'm in charge of the new products. So—”

“She's a lot more than just my consultant,” Dex broke in and then paused when she turned a wide-eyed stare on him. “I mean, she's in charge of products and remodeling, and she's going to be the sole focus of our advertising campaign. I can't wait to see her model some of the new clothes, sir. She'll be great.”

Virginia's heart leapt into her throat. Oh no. Why hadn't she taped Dex's mouth shut? If he didn't quit talking, he was going to sabotage himself. Time to change the subject, and the only thing sure to distract her dad? Owlton. Talk about self-sabotage. “Yes. It's quite an opportunity. A lot more rewarding than real estate would have been.” She looked at her dad, who, predictably, began to frown. Then he said something she couldn't have predicted.

“I know that you need to be creative to be truly happy.” He reached over and took her hand. “I'm not disappointed by your decision, Virginia. I want to make sure you know that.”

“Thanks. It's . . . great to know that.” And she could tell by her dad's expression that he meant every word he'd said. She squeezed his hand.

“But about this modeling thing,” he said, leveling his gaze at her.

She grinned at him and thought fast. “I'm going to shamelessly use my position as the daughter of the president to promote my own work in a tasteful photo shoot featuring young, fresh all-American fashion. It will celebrate the relaunch of a historic department store, which is the anchor of its classic New York neighborhood. What about my modeling thing?”

Patrick burst out laughing. “Oh, you're good.” He turned to Dex. “She's good, right?” Dex chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Maybe she ought to be president,” Dex offered.

There was a pause, and then another round of awkward laughter. “Maybe, Dex. You never know.” Patrick turned to him and the smile fell from his face. “So tell me about yourself.”

Oh boy. Virginia stood up. “Ready for that tour, Dad?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks, honey. I'm content just to sit here and chat with your . . . ?”

“Boss,” she finished.

“Coworker,” Dex said at the same time.

“Mm-hm.” Patrick looked at Dex and then glanced at Virginia's bare feet before meeting her gaze. When he smiled, she wanted nothing more than to bolt into the bathroom, lock the door, and crawl out of the window. There was a fire escape, wasn't there? Maybe she should go check. Or maybe she should sit her ass back down and make sure Dex didn't say anything insane. She sat.

“Go ahead, Dex.” Patrick sat back and crossed an ankle over his knee.

Dex mirrored Patrick's action and threw his hand over the back of the sofa. He looked relaxed—except for his ramrod-straight back and his furiously jiggling ankle. Virginia was desperate to reach out and still it, but she folded her hands in her lap and listened. Dex started by clearing his throat. “Like Virginia said, I'm heading up the transformation of the department store.”

“She did say that,” Patrick allowed. “Did you grow up in New York?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you go to school?”

Dex's eyebrows rose. “Columbia for undergrad. NYU for my MBA.”

“Good, good. Are you married?”

Virginia couldn't contain a gasp. “Dad.”

“I'm just getting to know the man. Calm down, honey.” Patrick turned back to Dex. “Are you?”

Dex shook his head. “Never married.” His foot jiggled so hard that the laces of his shoe whipped up and down.

“Mm-hm. What about your family?”

“Sir?”

“Your parents?”

Dex's foot stopped. “My parents are . . . they're out of the country. Have been for years, and basically, I was raised by nannies. I have a sister who also lives in Manhattan, and my grandfather, who—” He shook his head. “This may be disrespectful, Mr. President, but I'm not going to discuss my family with you because I don't like talking about them. They're not as closely knit as yours.” He paused. “Not that I know that much about your family, of course. Just . . . on TV, the pictures . . . you look happy,” he finished quickly.

Virginia raised her clasped hands to her chin in sympathy. Oh, Dex. He hadn't been obligated to reveal any of that to her dad, but he was so nervous. And who wouldn't be?