Various States of Undress: Virginia

by Simcox, Laura

  Dex’s eyes widened. “How did you do that? Who’d you borrow that purse from—Mary Poppins?”

  In spite of her nerves, she threw her head back and laughed. “No. It’s Chanel. The only magic bags we’ll find around here are probably inside the kids’ museum. Come on.” As her Secret Service agents murmured into their sleeves, she shifted and subtly tugged on the hem of her dress. “Okay. My agent gets out first. Then you. Come around and help me out. The SUV will drive away; my agent will be behind us, and there will be another agent stationed inside. He’s been in there for an hour already, I think. Both of them will follow me around all night, but they need to blend in, so don’t be too obvious about noticing them.”

  “Okay.” Dex glanced at her, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “I guess I didn’t realize how orchestrated your life has to be.”

  She laughed again. “Believe me, I try to un-orchestrate it as much as possible. Which is easy to do at the clubs.”

  There was a light sigh from the front seat as Larry muttered into the microphone hidden under his sleeve.

  “I heard that, Muscles,” Virginia announced, trying to keep her voice light and teasing. She did put her agents through the ringer a lot of the time, but there were days that if she didn’t blow off steam by going out on the town, she’d explode. At least half of the time, those agents ended up holding her up by her elbows as she stumble-giggled, drunk, back to her apartment. That behavior was stopping, and it was stopping now. Starting tonight, she was cleaning up her act. She owed it to herself and to her family—not because of who they were but because they stood by her. Now it was time to stand by herself. “I’m only kidding, Lar.” Larry didn’t respond. He was probably bracing himself for what he assumed was another night of hell. She sighed. Turning her reputation around wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Muscles?” Dex murmured.

  She raised a shoulder and managed a smile. “Yeah. They all get nicknames from me. Charlie up here”—she gestured to the driver—“he’s tall, dark, and silent. Mostly silent. I think his nickname used to be Charming Charlie, but I like Silent better.”

  Charlie saluted, but didn’t turn around. Dex frowned.

  “What?” Virginia asked.

  “Didn’t your sister . . .” he trailed off and then scratched his jaw.

  “No! I mean—” Virginia frowned but made the connection, and, as she did, her face flooded with heat. “Yes, Carolina is married to her former agent, but she fell in love with him. Just because I joke around doesn’t mean that I’m trying to seduce mine. I’m not attracted to them. Jeez.” She winced. “No offense, Larry.”

  Larry gave a light shake of his head. “None taken, but if you don’t mind me saying, this conversation is taking a weird turn, Miss Fulton.”

  “No shit,” she muttered. And then louder, “Anyway.” She turned to Dex and looped the long chain strap of her bag over her shoulder. “You ready?”

  “I am.” His legs were jiggling again, but he reached for the door handle and took a deep breath, swinging himself out of the SUV. A moment later, her door opened, and Larry positioned himself slightly off to the side. Dex stood exactly where she’d told him to stand, and he held out his hand. She placed her palm on top of his, secretly loving how warm his skin was. When she was on the sidewalk, Dex offered his arm, and she slid her hand through the crook of his elbow, trying not to cling as a wave of apprehension threatened to take over every part of her body. Everyone on the sidewalk stared at them, of course—she was used to that—but it was the people waiting inside that had her stomach clenching. But she had to get over that. Like, now.

  Putting on her best smile, she took a slow, deep breath; nodded to people on the sidewalk; and walked into the museum with Dex. Larry was close behind her, and she scanned the crowd for her other agent. He stood off to the left near a table piled high with goody bags—each of which was no doubt stuffed with at least a thousand dollars’ worth of carefully-themed high-end products. Normally, she’d be salivating to peek inside one, but right now the only thing she wanted to do was shake her anxiety. She couldn’t function until she did that.

  The usual gasp that occurred when she walked into a public place barely registered in her mind, but the short silence afterward did. Her lips curved into an automatic, friendly smile. “Good evening,” she murmured to a pencil-thin woman whose eyes were pinned back so severely by plastic surgery that she looked like a crazed cat.

  The woman’s collagen lips peeled back to reveal blindingly white caps. “Hello.”

  Virginia tightened her grip on Dex’s elbow and silently counted down. Five. Four. Three. Two . . .

  And then she was surrounded by a flock of clones of Madam Face-Lift. She turned to acknowledge them with a smile that swept over each face, trying not to let their expressions—a mixture of curiosity and condescension—register in her brain. But each woman looked as if she couldn’t wait for Virginia to do something stupid, and even as her smile grew wider, she felt her defenses snap into place.

  “Why, hello there,” one of them chirped.

  “What a delightful surprise,” said another, glancing at the starved-looking woman next to her. “Don’t you agree?”

  The third one’s eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “My, yes. Let’s have a photo, shall we? It’ll be lovely.” She raised an index finger and summoned a photographer.

  “Lovely,” Virginia echoed in a murmur. She posed with the women briefly and then inclined her head with a smile. “Well.” Argh, she hated being around these kind of people—which was the very reason she spent most of her social time with clubbing buddies, Stacey in particular. Stacey had likely waited on some of these cultured vultures at Saks. What she wouldn’t give to have Stacey here right now.

  But these vultures and their husbands were the very people Virginia needed to court tonight, weren’t they? Yes. And Stacey wouldn’t be a bit of help with that. So she straightened her back, grateful for Dex’s steady presence next to her. “It’s a pleasure to be here tonight,” she said smoothly, wondering if Dex was ever going to introduce her. In the little experience she had being famous, she’d learned that introducing herself was pointless because people already knew who she was. More often than not, introducing herself only led to celebrity awkwardness—that strange feeling she got when people inevitably gave her a look that meant they thought she was unnecessarily trumpeting her existence. She gave Dex a subtle nudge.

  He shifted and cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. Hello. Uh . . .”

  Virginia’s gaze snapped up to his face. Uh-oh. As she watched, the tight smile on his face crumpled, and his stare became fixed beyond the tight circle of women. She followed his gaze and spotted a young woman in a starkly sensible black floor-length gown. Her bright red hair was swept up in a vicious-looking top knot; her eyes were narrowed and her arms were crossed. Double uh-oh. Who the hell was that? Whoever she was, she had a problem with Dex. An ex-girlfriend?

  “Excuse me,” Dex muttered. He untangled his arm from Virginia’s grip and lurched forward. Virginia followed him before she realized what she was doing, but it was too late to backtrack without looking like a fool, so she snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, and, over her shoulder, she shot a serene smile at the women. “So nice to meet you.”

  When she reached Dex, she stopped a few feet short of where he stood, half under a spiral staircase, leaning down to speak furiously to the redhead. “You knew I was taking this one. Why are you here tonight? To spy on me?”

  “Somebody’s got to make sure you don’t make a pathetic ass out of yourself,” the woman said in a tone so light and sweet that her words sounded more like a compliment than an insult. Virginia raised her eyebrows.

  Dex let out a harsh laugh. “You have no idea what you’re up against, Ariel. I almost feel sorry for you.”

  “Aww. That would be a switcheroo, wouldn’t it? Regardless, I’m happy to be here.”

  “Like I said, you have no idea what you�
��re up against, and, unless you play fair, you can kiss London good-bye. I know about the auction.”

  Ariel sucked in a breath, her eyes wide, then leaned around Dex’s shoulder, pretending to spot Virginia. “Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there.”

  “You definitely saw me there,” Virginia answered without thinking, and Dex turned around quickly. She smiled at him, and he gave her an apologetic look. “Virginia, this is my sister, Ariel Cameron. Ariel, this is Virginia Fulton.”

  Ariel batted her eyelashes—actually batted them—and held out gracefully limp fingers that Virginia suspected did not mirror her personality one bit. She took the woman’s fine-boned hand to give it a quick shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  Virginia had to give her credit—the woman didn’t even blink. She just wiggled her hand away and rested it on her waist. “Pleasure.” She paused. “Are you here to drum up support for your father?”

  Virginia didn’t answer for a moment. That kind of question could usually be translated as: I didn’t vote for Patrick Fulton, and, since I think he’s an idiot, you’re also one by default. As she stared at the woman over the edge of her champagne glass, she realized with fascination that nobody had ever rubbed her the wrong way in such a short amount of time. It was almost hate-at-first-sight with Ariel. An amused smile lifted her lips at the thought, and she slipped her hand back in the crook of Dex’s arm, mostly to see how Ariel would react. “I’m not here for political reasons. I’m here to support creative outlets for children. Oh, and I’m fortunate enough to be Dex’s date this evening.”

  Dex grinned. “Thank you, Virginia. Likewise.”

  Ariel’s reaction wasn’t pretty. The sugary-sweet venom in the woman’s voice was replaced by hissing. “Nice move, Dex, but hiding behind the skirts of a celebrity isn’t going to do your image—or Cameron’s—any favors.”

  Virginia couldn’t help it—she laughed. She took a sip of champagne to hide her laughter. Dex looked down at her, kind of confused, but after a moment his lips began to quirk up—and he chuckled.

  “What?” Ariel demanded.

  Dex inclined his head toward his sister. “Thanks for the tip, Ariel. How we present ourselves is important, isn’t it? At charity events and business affairs. Or estate auctions, for that matter.” Her mouth opened and then closed, but she didn’t answer. Dex’s fingers brushed the small of Virginia’s back, and she took the cue, nodding at Ariel. “I enjoyed chatting with you. Hope to see you again soon.” She gave the woman a sunny smile that probably said Read between the lines, bitch. Ariel was no dummy. Her brow furrowed for an instant and then she nodded back. “Likewise.”

  As Virginia slowly strolled across the room with Dex, she stopped to chat with several people—each time gracefully moving along before Dex had a chance to mention Owlton. When they’d made a circuit and were safely standing next to a potted plant, he leaned down to speak, his lips tickling her ear. “I’m sorry about my sister. She wants to be CEO of Cameron Enterprises so badly, all she can taste is her own fear.”

  “You certainly seemed to instill fear in her. What was that about London and estate auctions? Or am I overstepping by asking?”

  Dex looked at her for a moment. “I wouldn’t say overstepping, but I don’t feel at liberty to talk about it. Not now.”

  Virginia nodded. “Understood.” She looked up at him, aware that most eyes in the room were trained in their direction. “But it’s safe to assume you want be CEO as badly as your sister does, don’t you?”

  He hesitated and leaned closer. “I’m not going about it the same way she is, but yes, you can assume that’s my long-term goal.”

  “And what way is she going about it?” Virginia asked, her heart beating faster at his nearness. She took a long drink from her glass and discovered it empty.

  Dex took it from her fingers and set it on the edge of a table. “She’s spending about a hundred and ten percent of her time kissing ass. My grandfather’s, to be specific.”

  “And you?”

  “Kissing ass is overrated.” He smiled down at her. “Even yours.”

  “I wasn’t aware that my ass was overrated.”

  His smile got bigger and those dimples appeared again, making Virginia’s breath catch. She looked away just as he touched her back again. “Come on. Let’s go mingle again—I didn’t get a chance to bring up Owlton yet.”

  “No,” she blurted out. “I mean . . . I’m not . . .” she trailed off, and then adjusted the strap of her bag and turned her back to the room. What was she supposed to say? That she wasn’t in the mood? More important, she was frighteningly unprepared to talk to anyone about real estate. “I think it would be wiser if I researched potential clients before meeting them,” she said. “I want to be ready.”

  Dex nodded. “Makes sense. But I want to make good on my offer. I’ll do everything I can to help you succeed if you choose to become my consultant.” The teasing tone had left his voice, and she looked up, surprised to see that vulnerability in his expression again. It was the same look from earlier today when he’d asked her out. He wanted her to say yes—and he wanted it pretty badly.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Great.” He nodded again and glanced around the room. “We need to move again before half the people in here come this way.”

  Virginia looked over her shoulder at several society matrons who crept forward like zombies wearing couture. Ugh. She glanced back, her eyes resting on an area where a string ensemble was playing softly. “Want to dance?”

  “Really?” His gaze followed hers. “Nobody else is yet.”

  “So? They will if we will. But if you really don’t want to—”

  “It’s not that.” He stared down at her. “I’d love to dance with you.”

  Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to see what it was like to be in Dex’s arms. Her breath caught at the unexpected thought. Yes, he was attractive—but so were a lot of men, and she’d danced with plenty of them without getting all giggly about it. He wouldn’t be any different, right? Taking his arm, she winked up at him. “We’re going to put on a show.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “We already are,” she pointed out and raised her chin toward the crowd who was pretending to be too worldly to watch them, but were anyway.

  “Right.” Dex let out a breath. “Virginia, maybe I spoke too soon. I’m a bad dancer, just so you know. Maybe this is a terrible idea.”

  Virginia grabbed his hand and led him forward. “How bad can you be?”

  “Spasmodically bad.”

  Her eyes widened even as she pulled him onto the dance floor. “Well, it’s too late now.” She placed one hand on Dex’s shoulder and felt a rush of heat as his fingers slid across the bare skin of her back. Swallowing, she raised her other hand and placed it in his. “Box step?”

  “Box what?” He began to haul her in a diagonal motion.

  Oh hell. Giggles threatened to spill out of her mouth, and she gently tugged on his shoulder. “Slow down and just move around in a circle.”

  He tried. He really did, but the look of concentration on his face—teeth gritted in a fixed grin, eyebrows knit tight—made her lose it, and she laughed.

  “Thanks,” Dex muttered. “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m sorry for laughing,” she said. “You did warn me about your dancing ability.”

  “I did.” He glanced around. “Oh, thank God.” Several couples had joined them, and after a moment he relaxed into a smoother rhythm. “At least they’re only staring at you.”

  Virginia wanted to tell him that a lot of the people were staring at him too—with quite a bit of curiosity—but she held her tongue because if he got super nervous, he might rip her arm out of her socket. She needed to concentrate since she was acutely aware of his hand on her back, which had begun rubbing gently against her skin in time to the music. She doubted he realized he was doing it or that his chest brushed against her breasts every time he attempted to turn her—but she knew,
and the longer they danced, the shorter her breath became. When he finally relaxed enough to look into her eyes, she couldn’t stop her lips from parting. He looked at those too.

  The music ended and she belatedly realized that people were applauding, so she did as well, loudly, and right into the following silence. Her sharp claps echoed in the large space, and she dropped her hands self-consciously. With a quick smile, she nodded up at Dex and turned to leave the dance floor, forcing herself to walk slowly but not stopping until she reached a fairly deserted area near the windows.

  This situation wasn’t good. Like, at all. She needed to be able to think straight, and how could she even entertain the idea of working with him if she couldn’t quit looking at him and fantasizing that . . . no. No. Why would she turn down a job in fashion just because she’d danced with the man and liked it a little bit too much? Why would she throw away an opportunity just because she might be uncomfortable? Out of her element? That was it—out of her element, her comfort zone. And into her coward zone.

  “Come on, Virginia,” she muttered.

  “You okay?” Dex caught her arm gently. “Did I step on your feet?”

  “No, of course not. You—” She looked up at him, her gaze skimming over his firm lips. You set my body on fire. “Really, you did just fine.”

  He smiled down at her. “Thanks for saving my ass back there. I’d like to say my ass was underrated . . .” He paused. “You know, like I joked that yours was overrated . . . Never mind.”

  “Dex?”

  “Yes?”

  “There isn’t any type of rating that could be assigned to your ass or your dancing.”

  “I don’t think I have any choice but to take that as a compliment,” he said.

  “Agreed.” She paused. “So . . .”

  “Hmm?” He leaned down.