Various States of Undress: Virginia (18 page)

“You know how,” he answered.

She stretched. “Hmm. Well regardless, you are officially off the hook. No more dancing.”

“I told you I would dance and I will.” He gave her a slow smile and covered her hand, rubbing his palm against it. “You want to know why?”

“Sure.” She raised her hand up his thigh, loving it when he winked at her.

“Because I get to dance with the least airheaded, most beautiful woman in this place. Even if I suck, which I will, nobody will even notice. All eyes will be on you, including mine.”

“Yours are the only eyes I welcome.”

He interlaced his fingers with hers. “I was under the impression that you didn't mind attention.”

Up until recently, she hadn't. She'd encouraged the admiration of the suck-ups and had tried to take the judgmental, jealous stares of others in stride. No matter where she went, the attention she got was like that, and it had been practically all of her life—even before her dad won the White House. It was a vicious circle of her attempting to validate herself, and it had to stop.

“I . . . I enjoy attention too much. I've tried to stop it, tried to take myself more seriously to see if that would change how people see me.”

“Is that why you switched majors from fashion to art history?” Dex asked.

She nodded and then let out a rueful laugh. “It wasn't a complete waste because I love museums. But can you see me working in one? I'd be an exhibit all on my own. Propriety is not my middle name.”

“What is?”

“Millicent.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should go by that.”

“Oh, Virginia.” Dex chuckled softly and turned to cup her face. “You're perfect exactly how you are. Right this moment.”

He gazed at her.

She gazed back. Then she slid her arms around his neck and brushed her lips across his mouth. He kissed her softly, and then with more urgency, his hands sliding down to her waist, drawing her against him. As she knelt on the sofa and pressed him back into the cushions, warning bells in her head went off, reminding her that she was in public; she ignored them, choosing instead to dip her tongue into the heat of his mouth. She teased. She tempted. She promised things with her mouth that would certainly come true, and she knew that he knew it. He sucked on her tongue gently and then, just as gently, pushed her back, his eyes half closed with lust.

“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

B
Y
F
RIDAY 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.