The VIP Doubles Down
Page 15
Her last crack made him snort out a laugh. Liking is all relative with relatives, he wrote back, but I apologize for being a curmudgeon.
His stepsister retorted, We don’t know what that means out here in the sticks of Illinois.
He snorted again.
The truth was that he had opened the damned box. It held the autographed first editions of his books that he’d sent to his father as they were published. Once Gavin saw the pristine books neatly wrapped in plastic, exactly as he’d sent them, he’d slammed the box shut again.
He hadn’t expected his father to read them. Kenneth Miller read only the ledgers of the family feed store or biographies of Civil War generals. But Gavin had foolishly hoped for some acknowledgment that his ambition to be a writer had worked out after all.
He’d shoved the box into a corner at his beach house in Southampton, where he didn’t have to be reminded of it or the wrench of disappointment it had delivered.
His cell phone buzzed as it scooted across the mahogany desktop. He seized it, hoping it was Allie saying she could come tomorrow. Instead, he saw Nathan Trainor’s name on the screen.
He considered not answering, but he owed the man an apology. “Trainor, you know I’m a jerk, so I shouldn’t have to say this, but I’m sorry.”
The CEO’s dry chuckle sounded over the phone. “Kudos for not beating around the bush, but it lacks a certain sincerity.”
“Oh, it’s sincere. I just don’t handle pity well.”
“You confuse pity with friendship,” Trainor said, his tone serious. “There’s an important distinction.”
Gavin kneaded his forehead. “I don’t handle friendship well, either. We writers are loners by nature. I’m still not sure why you and Archer put up with me.”
“Now we get to the pity part.” The humor was back in Trainor’s voice, and Gavin relaxed. “And since you’re so pitiful, Chloe and I would like you to have dinner at our place on Saturday. It’s short notice, but some friends are visiting from out of town. We thought you’d like them, and vice versa.”
Gavin’s pity radar went on full alert. “I’m not planning to slit my wrists over the weekend.”
Trainor’s sigh was heavy. “For God’s sake, it’s a simple dinner invitation.”
Why did he care about Trainor’s motivation anyway? He had nothing planned for Saturday night, and Trainor’s friends were always interesting. “Sorry. I forgot the pity/friendship distinction again. I’ll attend with alacrity. Thank you.”
“Come at seven.”
“Are Archer and his new bride on the guest list as well?”
“If I say yes, will you refuse to join us?”
Gavin laughed. “No, I owe him an apology, too.”
“With that to look forward to, I have no doubt that he will accept the invitation.” Trainor hung up.
Gavin checked his phone for voice mail, just to make sure Allie hadn’t called while he was talking with the CEO. Still nothing from the physical therapist.
He turned back to the computer, trying to conjure up the scenarios he’d been playing with as Allie discussed Julian’s need for a different love interest. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not conceive of a different kind of woman for Julian.
It seemed that his muse didn’t share Allie’s conviction that Julian was capable of real love.
Allie turned off the treadmill and braced her arms on it as she gasped for breath. She and Troy had rented a truck to haul home the exercise machine from Havilland Rehab when the center had updated their equipment. Although it took up most of the floor space in their bedroom, Troy had wanted it to keep fit for the leading-man roles he hoped to land.
Allie was grateful for it since she no longer had access to Havilland’s gym. On grim winter days, it was a luxury to run indoors. Today she had needed to sprint off the anxiety tightening her throat because Gavin Miller hadn’t called back about a session tomorrow. She scrubbed her face with a towel, took a gulp of water, and eyed the treadmill. The rehab center had to stay on the cutting edge of technology, but most people would still consider her machine state-of-the-art. She might get another month’s rent out of selling it.
She pulled out her earbuds and peeled off her sweaty workout shirt. Maybe she should give up and leave New York. Now that her marriage and her job had ended, not much held her here.
But the thought of returning to Sanctuary was unappealing. There were so many memories of the happy times with Troy there. Even worse, they’d been a couple for so long that everyone thought of them together. Going back as the divorced half of that unit would be painful.
She draped her damp shirt over the rail of the treadmill. The truth was more complicated than that. New York had changed her. For all her nostalgia, Sanctuary felt like a place to visit, not live.
“I guess Troy rubbed off on me,” she said, stooping to pet the cat who’d returned once the noise of the treadmill had ceased. “I got ambitious.”
Pie jumped up on the bed, dislodging Allie’s cell phone so it slid onto the floor. “Hey, be careful! I can’t afford a broken screen right now.” When she scooped up the phone to make sure it was intact, the icon for a voice message stared out at her.
“Well, shoot, why didn’t I hear the ding?” She checked the volume to find it on mute. She must have forgotten to reset it after her session with Gavin. Hope bubbled up when she saw the message was from the writer.
His voice rolled out of the phone—deep, curt, and commanding. “Schedule me for two hours tomorrow, whenever you can fit it in.”
She whooped, making Pie lift her head and blink at her reprovingly. Allie swept the cat up in her arms and danced around the bed. “He wants me back. Mama’s going to be able to keep you in kitty litter another couple of weeks.”
The next morning, Allie felt a pinch of worry when it was Ludmilla who opened the door instead of Gavin. But the housekeeper waved her inside. “Come in, come in. Mr. Gavin ask me to take you to gym. He gets phone call.”
Allie had already unpacked most of her equipment when Gavin came down the gym stairs. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said. “Business matters.”
He smiled, and she found it hard to draw in a full breath. His eyes gleamed jade green. His white teeth flashed against his olive skin. He focused on her with an intensity that sent vibrations zinging around in her chest before they settled low in her belly.
His stepsister retorted, We don’t know what that means out here in the sticks of Illinois.
He snorted again.
The truth was that he had opened the damned box. It held the autographed first editions of his books that he’d sent to his father as they were published. Once Gavin saw the pristine books neatly wrapped in plastic, exactly as he’d sent them, he’d slammed the box shut again.
He hadn’t expected his father to read them. Kenneth Miller read only the ledgers of the family feed store or biographies of Civil War generals. But Gavin had foolishly hoped for some acknowledgment that his ambition to be a writer had worked out after all.
He’d shoved the box into a corner at his beach house in Southampton, where he didn’t have to be reminded of it or the wrench of disappointment it had delivered.
His cell phone buzzed as it scooted across the mahogany desktop. He seized it, hoping it was Allie saying she could come tomorrow. Instead, he saw Nathan Trainor’s name on the screen.
He considered not answering, but he owed the man an apology. “Trainor, you know I’m a jerk, so I shouldn’t have to say this, but I’m sorry.”
The CEO’s dry chuckle sounded over the phone. “Kudos for not beating around the bush, but it lacks a certain sincerity.”
“Oh, it’s sincere. I just don’t handle pity well.”
“You confuse pity with friendship,” Trainor said, his tone serious. “There’s an important distinction.”
Gavin kneaded his forehead. “I don’t handle friendship well, either. We writers are loners by nature. I’m still not sure why you and Archer put up with me.”
“Now we get to the pity part.” The humor was back in Trainor’s voice, and Gavin relaxed. “And since you’re so pitiful, Chloe and I would like you to have dinner at our place on Saturday. It’s short notice, but some friends are visiting from out of town. We thought you’d like them, and vice versa.”
Gavin’s pity radar went on full alert. “I’m not planning to slit my wrists over the weekend.”
Trainor’s sigh was heavy. “For God’s sake, it’s a simple dinner invitation.”
Why did he care about Trainor’s motivation anyway? He had nothing planned for Saturday night, and Trainor’s friends were always interesting. “Sorry. I forgot the pity/friendship distinction again. I’ll attend with alacrity. Thank you.”
“Come at seven.”
“Are Archer and his new bride on the guest list as well?”
“If I say yes, will you refuse to join us?”
Gavin laughed. “No, I owe him an apology, too.”
“With that to look forward to, I have no doubt that he will accept the invitation.” Trainor hung up.
Gavin checked his phone for voice mail, just to make sure Allie hadn’t called while he was talking with the CEO. Still nothing from the physical therapist.
He turned back to the computer, trying to conjure up the scenarios he’d been playing with as Allie discussed Julian’s need for a different love interest. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not conceive of a different kind of woman for Julian.
It seemed that his muse didn’t share Allie’s conviction that Julian was capable of real love.
Allie turned off the treadmill and braced her arms on it as she gasped for breath. She and Troy had rented a truck to haul home the exercise machine from Havilland Rehab when the center had updated their equipment. Although it took up most of the floor space in their bedroom, Troy had wanted it to keep fit for the leading-man roles he hoped to land.
Allie was grateful for it since she no longer had access to Havilland’s gym. On grim winter days, it was a luxury to run indoors. Today she had needed to sprint off the anxiety tightening her throat because Gavin Miller hadn’t called back about a session tomorrow. She scrubbed her face with a towel, took a gulp of water, and eyed the treadmill. The rehab center had to stay on the cutting edge of technology, but most people would still consider her machine state-of-the-art. She might get another month’s rent out of selling it.
She pulled out her earbuds and peeled off her sweaty workout shirt. Maybe she should give up and leave New York. Now that her marriage and her job had ended, not much held her here.
But the thought of returning to Sanctuary was unappealing. There were so many memories of the happy times with Troy there. Even worse, they’d been a couple for so long that everyone thought of them together. Going back as the divorced half of that unit would be painful.
She draped her damp shirt over the rail of the treadmill. The truth was more complicated than that. New York had changed her. For all her nostalgia, Sanctuary felt like a place to visit, not live.
“I guess Troy rubbed off on me,” she said, stooping to pet the cat who’d returned once the noise of the treadmill had ceased. “I got ambitious.”
Pie jumped up on the bed, dislodging Allie’s cell phone so it slid onto the floor. “Hey, be careful! I can’t afford a broken screen right now.” When she scooped up the phone to make sure it was intact, the icon for a voice message stared out at her.
“Well, shoot, why didn’t I hear the ding?” She checked the volume to find it on mute. She must have forgotten to reset it after her session with Gavin. Hope bubbled up when she saw the message was from the writer.
His voice rolled out of the phone—deep, curt, and commanding. “Schedule me for two hours tomorrow, whenever you can fit it in.”
She whooped, making Pie lift her head and blink at her reprovingly. Allie swept the cat up in her arms and danced around the bed. “He wants me back. Mama’s going to be able to keep you in kitty litter another couple of weeks.”
The next morning, Allie felt a pinch of worry when it was Ludmilla who opened the door instead of Gavin. But the housekeeper waved her inside. “Come in, come in. Mr. Gavin ask me to take you to gym. He gets phone call.”
Allie had already unpacked most of her equipment when Gavin came down the gym stairs. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said. “Business matters.”
He smiled, and she found it hard to draw in a full breath. His eyes gleamed jade green. His white teeth flashed against his olive skin. He focused on her with an intensity that sent vibrations zinging around in her chest before they settled low in her belly.
