Various States of Undress: Virginia (2 page)

“It's Dex.” As she watched, he glanced down at her hand and then shook it reluctantly. “I understand you've been trying to get in contact with my office regarding your . . . former employer. My condolences on your loss.” He squeezed her hand lightly, and then his fingers slid away from hers. Holy crap. His voice was deep, and his hand had been so strong and warm, however reluctant. Virginia lifted her chin. “Thank you. Did you know Sam Owlton?”

“No. But I'm happy for anyone who's at peace.” He gazed at her, his expression unreadable.

She gazed back, grateful for the dark lenses covering her eyes. What an odd thing for him to say. Nice, but odd. As for peaceful, she didn't know how that felt, especially not at this moment, because Dex stared at her with green eyes so sharp and clear it was as if he could read her thoughts. She twirled the umbrella between her fingers, not dropping her gaze, even though the staring contest was getting kind of strange. Did the guy ever
blink
?

“I'm not sure what's so urgent, but I don't usually have business meetings in Central Park. This is surprising and inconvenient. I've never been frisked before,” he said tersely.

“You weren't supposed to be the one getting frisked,” she said. “I thought I would be meeting your grandfather. I'm sorry.”

Dex's eyes widened, and then he let out a disbelieving laugh. “You actually thought my grandfather would agree to being ambushed by federal agents and brought to Central Park for a clandestine meeting?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize again—graciously—but her nerves roared to life and took over her mouth. “Well, damn. Cameron Enterprise's office hasn't returned my phone calls, Dex, and I didn't feel comfortable arriving unannounced at a private residence for a business meeting.” She paused and then casually gestured toward the trees. “The paparazzi are everywhere I go, but at least in the park, they're way over there, so they can't eavesdrop like they could at a restaurant. My agents weren't pleased about me tracking you down, either. Just so you know.”

He shrugged. “I obviously know now.”

“Obviously.” Her sunglasses were fogging up from the humidity, but she didn't want to take them off. They hid her raccoon eyes. So she lifted a corner, hoping the steam would evaporate. It didn't. Whatever. She was too annoyed to care anymore. She whipped them off and leveled a stare at Dex, who wore a hint of a smile. She could have sworn she heard a diabolical laugh rumbling in his chest.

He looked up at the sky. “At least it stopped raining.”

“Yes, that's a bonus. Do you have a few minutes to chat?” Virginia snapped the umbrella closed and jammed the point into the grass, where it stood upright like an arrow. Dex's smile grew wider.

“Sure, whatever,” he responded easily.

Virginia stared at him. What was with this guy? He
looked
like a billion bucks, but he had the social skills of a rock. He acted as if he didn't care one way or the other if—oh. Of course. It was the whole daughter-of-the-leader-of-the-free-world thing. It tended to make some people pretend that they weren't affected by her fame. In her experience, those types of people tended to have egos the size of the Brooklyn Bridge.

With a silent sigh, she clasped her hands together. “The Owlton Company and Cameron Enterprises have had a partnership for forty years. I want to make sure that continues.”

A hint of surprise crossed his face. “You want to make sure what continues?”

“The partnership,” she repeated. “I'm the new owner of Owlton.”

It was the first time she'd said the words out loud, and they hung in the air, not quite convincing, kind of like the new warmth of the muggy spring day.

“I see.” Dex nodded, but also not convincingly. “And . . . you have a lot of real estate experience?”

Virginia let out a laugh, and when he raised an eyebrow, she pressed her lips together. This wasn't going so well. “My college degree is in an unrelated field,” she offered. “Just like a lot of realtors.”

He shrugged again, maybe in agreement, and maybe not. “What did you study?”

“Art,” she answered. “Well . . . fashion merchandising and then art. Both fields prepared me for all types of challenges.” She paused. “In the business world.” What the hell was she talking about? This wasn't a job interview. She glanced at Dex, who had a strange look on his face—intense, surprised, and really kind of sexy.

He stared at her for a moment and then pulled a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and wiped beads of rain from the bench. “Join me.” He gave her a half smile and sat down, crossing an ankle on top of a knee. His ankle jiggled, and he stopped it. A few seconds later, it started again.

She stood her ground. After a few seconds, she replaced her sunglasses, opened her bag, and took out a notebook and pen. “If there are any changes you'd like to make to our agreement, I can make some preliminary notes and—”

“Join me,” Dex repeated. He gestured to the seat next to him. There was that half smile again. When his lips curved up, little lines bracketed the corners. It was hard not to stare, but her lenses were dark and she was in a really weird mood. So she stared. His lips were kind of . . . tasty. They looked warm, unlike the words that came out of them. He was one of those guys who thought he couldn't be pinned down, wasn't he?

She narrowed her eyes and sat on the bench. Well, he was about to be pinned—like an insect onto a piece of cardboard. “With all due respect, Dex, you need to let me know if Cameron Enterprises intends to continue as one of my clients.”

It
had
to continue—it was a huge corporation—and one of the premier jewelers in the nation, with showroom locations all over the country. Sure, they'd started as a department store—Lilah's—around the same time as Barney's. Lilah's still existed, but in the past thirty years, Cameron Enterprises had grown far beyond that. She
needed
them, and, as she waited for Dex's answer, she held her breath.

He laughed. And as her heart began to sink, the passing thought that his smile made him handsome went out the window. The man was downright gorgeous when he laughed, which sucked for her. She opened her notebook and flipped through several blank pages. “I'm fully prepared to book apartments for your quarterly corporate retreats, but if you intend to break our contract, I can speak with an attorney.”

That wiped the smile from his face. He glanced around, his gaze flicking over the agents and then the paparazzi. Finally, he turned sideways and his knee brushed hers. “I'd like to help you.”

“You like to help me . . . but?” She couldn't keep the skepticism from her voice.

“No buts. You're in over your head, Virginia Fulton.”

Well, no shit. Even the squirrel who'd been sitting on the arm of the bench knew that. She'd never managed an account on her own, much less a huge one, and she had yet to sell a single piece of real estate. The ink on her license was barely dry. But she hadn't expected Dex to be so blunt. People weren't
blunt
with her, especially people she barely knew.

“It's not your fault,” Dex continued. “Owlton was losing money hand over fist long before he kicked the bucket.”

“I'm not blaming myself.”

“I didn't say you were, did I?”

Virginia flipped her notebook closed. “You implied it, but let's move on. Why do you want to help me?”

“Because you can help me too.” Dex shrugged nonchalantly. “You're fun, right? And sexy, which is exactly what I want. So if you're interested—”

Beneath her glasses, her eyes became wide as Frisbees. “What?”

“What?” he repeated.

“Are you . . . propositioning me?”

He frowned. “What gives you that idea? I just said—”

Virginia threw the notebook and pen back into her bag and stood up. “Okay. That's it. I'm leaving.” She turned and walked away from the bench, signaling her agents with a raised hand. Her heels sank into the grass with every step, and she gritted her teeth as the paparazzi slid out from behind trees to snap photos. Dammit. Of all the things she expected today, being so blatantly hit on was
not
one of them.

Behind her, Dex spoke. “Wait! That came out wrong. I shouldn't have used the word sexy. You're not sexy. You're . . .”

Narrowing her eyes, she turned around and watched as he stood up, his expression pained. His fingers spread apart and he stared at them as if they would help him find the right words. “I mean, you
are
sexy—let's be honest,” he continued, “but I didn't mean for that to be the point. I was asking you to be a consultant for Lilah's. For the department store.”

A fashion consultant? Her? Immediately, she loved the idea. No, not loved.
Adored
. But she'd come here to talk about real estate. Why would he assume he could change the purpose of their meeting on the spot? Because she was sexy? She shook her head, and Dex grinned. His
mouth
was sexy. She quit looking at it and examined her manicure.

“The word consultant never came out of your mouth,” she replied, her voice a lot calmer than the thoughts swirling around in her head.

“It didn't?”

“No.” She glanced up and cocked her head to the side. “Neither did department, store, nor Lilah's.”

He nodded. “Okay. That went . . . not well.” After opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, he took a few steps forward. “I'll explain. You're fashionable and famous, and our flagship store is old-fashioned and forgotten. That store is where Cameron Enterprises began, after all. It's the last one left, and it's kept alive only out of nostalgia. But I intend to make it profitable again.”

“Why?”

Dex shrugged. “Reasons that have nothing to do with you.” He glanced at the two agents who approached, talking into their sleeves.

Virginia walked as gracefully as she could across the soaked grass and stopped a couple of feet away from Dex. “Let's assume I'm interested in helping you. How will you help me?”

“I can get you a list of potential new clients.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“A solid list.” He grinned, and her breath caught. “A
sexy
list,” he added. Her breath whooshed out in a disgusted sigh.

He closed his eyes for a second. “Sorry. I shouldn't have used the word ‘sexy' again. Sometimes when I attempt to joke, what I imply and what's understood aren't the same thing.”

“You
think
?”

“I try not to think about it.” Dex coughed. “In any case, I believe we could help each other. Maybe we could even start tonight.”

The two agents stopped on either side of Virginia, and she folded her arms. Larry on one side, Virginia in the middle, and Charlie on the end. Muscles, the bad-ass president's daughter, and Silent. With any luck, the three of them in their sunglasses looked like a vice squad or something. Not that she was actually scared of Dex Cameron. Not anymore. Not much. “Tonight? That's awfully . . . soon.”

“I need to go to a charity event. Take advantage of a few photo ops.” He shrugged. It seemed to be his go-to move. But Virginia bet he
did
care more than the shrug implied. A lot more.

“Take advantage, hmm? I'm going to interpret your situation, and you tell me if I'm right.” She stepped forward, a little bit too close to him, but she couldn't correct herself without looking like she was backing away. And what she had to say needed to be said in his face. “You want some photo ops with a wild 'n' crazy daughter of the president of the United States because you want your name in the news as you move up the food chain in Cameron Enterprises. Maybe you're eager to take over the reins. Want to prove yourself? Yeah, I'm going with that. So you pounce on the First Daughter, who obviously needs you as a client, and naturally, you assume she will say yes.”

A slow smile crossed Dex's face. “I don't assume anything, Virginia. But I do know that you're intuitive. What do you say? Can we work together?”

“No.” She turned and half walked, half sank her way to the paved path. Her agents fell into step, one in front and one behind. And even though she was sandwiched by security, she felt vulnerable. Damn Dex. Why did he have to be hot? If she'd met him in a club and didn't know who he was, she would flirt with him like crazy, no question about it.

Yet there was also no question that her barfly days were over. Now that she had
zero
clients, she needed to focus.

“The Owlton Company will have a much easier time relaunching with Cameron Enterprises as a backer,” Dex called to her.

She didn't turn around. “I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself, thank you. It's not as if people don't already know who I am.”

“But do they know that your brains fill more than your designer shoes?”

This time she turned around and marched back toward him. “Of course they do,” she lied. “My brains are obvious, unlike your social skills, which are completely nonexistent.”

“Completely?” He folded his arms and frowned at her. “If my social skills were that bad, you'd have walked away five minutes ago. I mean, we're not at some wild club party, and yet you're still having a conversation with me.”

“Wild club party? What makes you say that?” But Virginia already knew. Everyone who'd even glanced at the front page of the
New York Post
or TMZ's website knew.

“Having a bad image is a real bitch, isn't it?” Dex asked softly.

Yes. It sucked. Knowing that most of the world thought she was a dimwit really hurt. But she didn't need him telling her that.

“What harm could it do to be seen with me? Unless you enjoy your reputation?” Dex lifted an eyebrow and then pulled her umbrella out of the grass. “You forgot this.”