The VIP Doubles Down
Page 37
“Including me.” He chuckled and set her on the cushion beside him, where she sprawled on her back, one leg dangling off the sofa.
He disposed of the condom while she closed her eyes to savor the satisfied hum of her body.
“I wish I could paint,” he said.
She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. Brushing at her hair, she said, “I’m pretty sure my hair looks like Bozo the Clown.”
He perched on the edge of the cushion, his hip beside hers. “Your hair looks as though it’s been mussed by passionate lovemaking.” He picked up a curl and dragged the end over her bare shoulder. The tickle sent delight tingling over her skin.
He dropped the curl and leaned over to kiss her softly. “Now that I’ve satisfied one appetite, it’s time to satisfy the other.”
“What were you cooking when I interrupted you?” she asked.
“An omelet. I fear it will have to go in the trash.” He kissed her again. “Feel free to interrupt me at any time.”
“I think you’re safe for at least fifteen minutes,” she said, stretching luxuriously. She heard Gavin’s breath hitch and arched a little extra for his benefit.
“Enough, siren,” he said, standing.
She recalled the story of Odysseus being lashed to the mast of his ship so he could listen to the Sirens sing their songs of temptation without him being lured to his death. “Shall I tie you to the stove?”
“I’d rather be tied to your bedpost,” he said, tossing a wicked grin over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen.
She pushed herself upright. Her nightgown was a mass of wrinkles and showed a few damp spots from their activities.
Allie went into her bedroom, rummaged through her lingerie drawer, and sighed. She could manage sexy vamp for only one outfit. She pulled out a pair of peach lace panties with a matching bra. At least she would look good under her jeans and top. She squirmed into her snuggest jeans and donned a dark purple top with a deeply scooped neckline. Brushing her rats’ nest of hair into shining waves, she frowned at herself in the mirror. Not exactly competition for the likes of Irene Bartram.
The sound and scent of sizzling butter made her jog across the living room. “Mmm, that smells heavenly,” she said, pulling plates, glasses, and silverware out of the cupboards. “Coffee, tea, or orange juice?”
He gave her a sly look. “You.”
“That wasn’t on the menu.”
“It was a few minutes ago.” He slid a perfectly folded omelet onto the platter he’d set on the counter. “Orange juice.”
She set the small round table, which was tucked into a corner of the living room, thanking the impulse that had made her splurge on a bunch of yellow flowers from the Korean grocery down the street. She poured the orange juice as Gavin walked out of the kitchen carrying the omelet platter. He set it down with a flourish so she could see the grapes and buttered toast points garnishing the sides.
He served her half the omelet with deft movements before seating himself on one of the ladder-back chairs. It looked small in comparison with his shoulders, which were now covered by his rumpled shirt.
She inhaled again. “There’s a whole lot of butter going on here.” Picking up her fork, she took a mouthful, discovering the cheese he’d added as filling. “Perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.”
“And now you have sampled one of the three dishes I make with authority.”
“I could happily eat this every morning for the rest of my life.” She choked a little as she realized how that might sound.
“Speaking of life, I have a proposition to make to you.”
“You already did that last night. And I accepted.” She gave him her best come-hither look.
“I hope you will accept this proposition with equal enthusiasm.” His attention fixed on the fork he was twirling back and forth between his fingers. “You know the Julian Best books inside and out. I need someone to bring my series bible up to date.” He brought his gaze back to her. “A bible is a reference document that contains all the characters, places, and other pertinent information that need to remain consistent across all the books. I had an excellent assistant who set up the bible and kept it going for the first nine books. However, he moved to Australia, possibly to escape from Julian Best. Then a less-thorough assistant took over.” His tone turned sardonic.
Allie’s thoughts seesawed. Did he really want her help with the bible? Or was this a way to keep her around for his entertainment?
She tried to remember how much she’d revealed about her financial situation, although he might guess what it was from her apartment. Maybe he felt sorry for her.
“I would pay you the same amount as Jane did, since I’m taking up time you might be spending with another patient. And we would work around your therapy schedule.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “Your nights are off the clock, however.”
She stalled. “So, no daytime fooling around?”
His gaze scorched over her. “I can’t guarantee that.”
God knew she needed the money, but she couldn’t work out the right and wrong of the situation. Everyone seemed to expect artists to sleep with their muses. Was it okay to work for a writer you were having sex with?
She understood the problems of having a romance with your boss, but this wasn’t a corporate office, so the power dynamic was different. She could walk away at any time without repercussions to her career. It was clear that Gavin found her input helpful, so was there anything wrong with being paid for her time?
She shook her head, more in an attempt to clear it than in refusal. “I don’t know.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, his fingers closing around hers. “Allie, I need you. I don’t know what the going rate for a muse is, so I came up with this scheme. I can’t ask you to sit around my office and talk to me without paying you. The guilt would corrode the relationship.” He looked away. “I know you can’t be my therapist any longer. I screwed that up.”
“That was a mutual screwing up. I’m the one who’s bound by the PT code of ethics.”
His gaze came back to her, his green eyes storm dark. “Tell me I haven’t pushed it beyond the point of no return.”
The heat and power of his grip seemed to seep through her, undermining her ability to think through all the implications. He needed her. She was a healer and he required healing.
He disposed of the condom while she closed her eyes to savor the satisfied hum of her body.
“I wish I could paint,” he said.
She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. Brushing at her hair, she said, “I’m pretty sure my hair looks like Bozo the Clown.”
He perched on the edge of the cushion, his hip beside hers. “Your hair looks as though it’s been mussed by passionate lovemaking.” He picked up a curl and dragged the end over her bare shoulder. The tickle sent delight tingling over her skin.
He dropped the curl and leaned over to kiss her softly. “Now that I’ve satisfied one appetite, it’s time to satisfy the other.”
“What were you cooking when I interrupted you?” she asked.
“An omelet. I fear it will have to go in the trash.” He kissed her again. “Feel free to interrupt me at any time.”
“I think you’re safe for at least fifteen minutes,” she said, stretching luxuriously. She heard Gavin’s breath hitch and arched a little extra for his benefit.
“Enough, siren,” he said, standing.
She recalled the story of Odysseus being lashed to the mast of his ship so he could listen to the Sirens sing their songs of temptation without him being lured to his death. “Shall I tie you to the stove?”
“I’d rather be tied to your bedpost,” he said, tossing a wicked grin over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen.
She pushed herself upright. Her nightgown was a mass of wrinkles and showed a few damp spots from their activities.
Allie went into her bedroom, rummaged through her lingerie drawer, and sighed. She could manage sexy vamp for only one outfit. She pulled out a pair of peach lace panties with a matching bra. At least she would look good under her jeans and top. She squirmed into her snuggest jeans and donned a dark purple top with a deeply scooped neckline. Brushing her rats’ nest of hair into shining waves, she frowned at herself in the mirror. Not exactly competition for the likes of Irene Bartram.
The sound and scent of sizzling butter made her jog across the living room. “Mmm, that smells heavenly,” she said, pulling plates, glasses, and silverware out of the cupboards. “Coffee, tea, or orange juice?”
He gave her a sly look. “You.”
“That wasn’t on the menu.”
“It was a few minutes ago.” He slid a perfectly folded omelet onto the platter he’d set on the counter. “Orange juice.”
She set the small round table, which was tucked into a corner of the living room, thanking the impulse that had made her splurge on a bunch of yellow flowers from the Korean grocery down the street. She poured the orange juice as Gavin walked out of the kitchen carrying the omelet platter. He set it down with a flourish so she could see the grapes and buttered toast points garnishing the sides.
He served her half the omelet with deft movements before seating himself on one of the ladder-back chairs. It looked small in comparison with his shoulders, which were now covered by his rumpled shirt.
She inhaled again. “There’s a whole lot of butter going on here.” Picking up her fork, she took a mouthful, discovering the cheese he’d added as filling. “Perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.”
“And now you have sampled one of the three dishes I make with authority.”
“I could happily eat this every morning for the rest of my life.” She choked a little as she realized how that might sound.
“Speaking of life, I have a proposition to make to you.”
“You already did that last night. And I accepted.” She gave him her best come-hither look.
“I hope you will accept this proposition with equal enthusiasm.” His attention fixed on the fork he was twirling back and forth between his fingers. “You know the Julian Best books inside and out. I need someone to bring my series bible up to date.” He brought his gaze back to her. “A bible is a reference document that contains all the characters, places, and other pertinent information that need to remain consistent across all the books. I had an excellent assistant who set up the bible and kept it going for the first nine books. However, he moved to Australia, possibly to escape from Julian Best. Then a less-thorough assistant took over.” His tone turned sardonic.
Allie’s thoughts seesawed. Did he really want her help with the bible? Or was this a way to keep her around for his entertainment?
She tried to remember how much she’d revealed about her financial situation, although he might guess what it was from her apartment. Maybe he felt sorry for her.
“I would pay you the same amount as Jane did, since I’m taking up time you might be spending with another patient. And we would work around your therapy schedule.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “Your nights are off the clock, however.”
She stalled. “So, no daytime fooling around?”
His gaze scorched over her. “I can’t guarantee that.”
God knew she needed the money, but she couldn’t work out the right and wrong of the situation. Everyone seemed to expect artists to sleep with their muses. Was it okay to work for a writer you were having sex with?
She understood the problems of having a romance with your boss, but this wasn’t a corporate office, so the power dynamic was different. She could walk away at any time without repercussions to her career. It was clear that Gavin found her input helpful, so was there anything wrong with being paid for her time?
She shook her head, more in an attempt to clear it than in refusal. “I don’t know.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, his fingers closing around hers. “Allie, I need you. I don’t know what the going rate for a muse is, so I came up with this scheme. I can’t ask you to sit around my office and talk to me without paying you. The guilt would corrode the relationship.” He looked away. “I know you can’t be my therapist any longer. I screwed that up.”
“That was a mutual screwing up. I’m the one who’s bound by the PT code of ethics.”
His gaze came back to her, his green eyes storm dark. “Tell me I haven’t pushed it beyond the point of no return.”
The heat and power of his grip seemed to seep through her, undermining her ability to think through all the implications. He needed her. She was a healer and he required healing.
