The VIP Doubles Down
Page 70
“She’ll dive right into the soup if you give her half a chance. And no more crab for her. I don’t want Ludmilla to deal with any more cat upchuck.”
Gavin shrugged at the cat, who was giving him her best hungry-kitty look. “Sorry, but I’m not arguing with your mistress. I owe her.”
Allie snorted, and they dug into the meal, which was as delicious as Ludmilla had promised. When Allie laid down her fork after eating much too large a slice of chocolate-pecan pie with freshly whipped cream, she said, “Back to work?”
Gavin swallowed the last of his cappuccino. “No, we have an errand to run.”
“We?”
“It requires your participation.” He stood up.
“If you think I’m going to meekly go with you, you’ve got another think coming. What sort of errand?”
He sighed and sat down again. “You’ll enjoy it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it involves shopping.”
“Since you’re dancing around it, you must believe I’m going to object.”
Gavin looked skyward before meeting her gaze again. “There’s a charity ball here in Southampton on Saturday night to which I would like you to accompany me. It requires a dress, which I don’t believe you brought with you. In fact, a dress is included with the very expensive tickets I purchased. But I look better in a tux, so the dress option was going to waste before I decided to persuade you to come with me.”
“A ball? Out here in the middle of winter? I thought this was a summer place.” Allie was torn between the thrill of going to a fancy party and the knowledge that she had no business doing so, especially since she was pretty sure that whole dress-with-the-tickets line was a lie.
“That’s the gimmick. It’s called the Barefoot Ball. Unless there’s a nor’easter coming, it’s held on the beach under giant tents with even larger heaters. Shoes are not allowed, but guests must wear black tie and ball gowns.”
“And you just remembered it?”
“No. I just worked up the nerve to invite you.”
That made Allie laugh, but she shook her head. “I’d be as out of place as . . . as Pie.”
Gavin looked at the cat, who had given up on getting any more seafood and gone to sleep on the chair seat. “Pie has no difficulty making herself at home in any environment. And you are equally adaptable.”
Allie hesitated, her conscience battling with her yearning.
Gavin put his hand over hers. “It would make me happy to treat you to this.”
“Well, as long as I’d be doing you a favor, I guess I can go along with the plan.” He looked happy, and he believed it was because of her. Emotions tangled in her chest, tightening around her heart.
She knew it was only going to make the stroke of midnight more painful, but she wanted to be Cinderella for one night. Although at this ball, there would be no glass slippers.
Chapter 23
When Gavin said they were going to a yacht club, Allie expected it to be elegant and clubby. Instead, the place looked like a bargain-basement sale, with rolling racks stuffed full of dresses scattered around the large entrance hall.
An immaculately groomed older woman rose from the desk set just inside the door. “Ah, Gavin, dear, so nice to see you.” She glided up to Gavin to give him an air-kiss before turning to Allie. “I’m Petra Willoughby, the vice chairman of the Barefoot Ball. How lovely to have you as our guest, Allie.”
Petra waved a hand at the racks. The huge diamond on her ring finger sparked in the sunlight. “We have a marvelous selection of dresses this year, donated by all the top designers. Letitia, darling, will you help Allie, please?”
Letitia was young, tall, stick thin, and dressed in black. Her smile, however, was sweet, and made endearing by one slightly crooked canine tooth. “Let’s go find the perfect gown for you to wear.”
“I’ll be in the bar,” Gavin said.
Allie felt a flutter of panic. She knew nothing about what to wear to a fancy Hamptons shindig. “Don’t you want to help choose the dress?”
He looked surprised and dismayed, then pleased. “Why don’t you show me the one you think is best, and I will exercise my power of approval . . . or veto.”
Letitia nodded and walked with Allie into a large room that looked like the beach had been moved indoors. Green-and-white-striped cabana tents were lined up on the wooden floor in rows, some with their flaps tied up, some with them rolled down. Women of all ages, shapes, and sizes carried ball gowns, inspected ball gowns, and paraded around in ball gowns. Allie had to close her eyes for a moment against the sensory overload of colors, fabrics, and glittering sequins and beads. The symphony of female voices was low and well modulated, but the overpowering scent of competing perfumes made her cough. She opened her eyes, blinked a couple of times, and followed Letitia to an empty cabana. Inside stood a three-paneled full-length mirror, an empty clothes rack, and a cushioned stool.
“Did you have a particular designer in mind?” Letitia asked.
Allie tried to recall who designed the dresses she had admired at the Oscars but came up blank. “Um, not really. Nothing too revealing, though.”
Letitia’s face took on a calculating edge as she scanned Allie up and down. “I’ll bring a few selections in to get an idea of what appeals to you. If you’re thirsty, there’s a bar set up at the far end of the room. Feel free to have some champagne.”
Allie sank onto the stool and watched two women come out of the cabanas across from her to assess each other’s dresses. One was dressed in a silver sequined number that highlighted her gilt blonde hair. The other wore a deep fuchsia chiffon that made Allie’s eyeballs hurt.
She pulled out her phone to check her e-mails. Still no job offers. She’d thought for sure that Dr. Cavill would have one by now. There wasn’t much more to do on Gavin’s series bible, so she would be out of work and out of income soon. Now that he was writing once more, there would be no compelling reason for him to keep her around.
Maybe she’d swig some of that champagne after all.
“Let’s see what you think of these,” Letitia said, bustling in with plastic-bagged dresses draped over her arm. “There’s only one of each style, so you don’t have to worry about seeing your twin at the party.”
Gavin shrugged at the cat, who was giving him her best hungry-kitty look. “Sorry, but I’m not arguing with your mistress. I owe her.”
Allie snorted, and they dug into the meal, which was as delicious as Ludmilla had promised. When Allie laid down her fork after eating much too large a slice of chocolate-pecan pie with freshly whipped cream, she said, “Back to work?”
Gavin swallowed the last of his cappuccino. “No, we have an errand to run.”
“We?”
“It requires your participation.” He stood up.
“If you think I’m going to meekly go with you, you’ve got another think coming. What sort of errand?”
He sighed and sat down again. “You’ll enjoy it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it involves shopping.”
“Since you’re dancing around it, you must believe I’m going to object.”
Gavin looked skyward before meeting her gaze again. “There’s a charity ball here in Southampton on Saturday night to which I would like you to accompany me. It requires a dress, which I don’t believe you brought with you. In fact, a dress is included with the very expensive tickets I purchased. But I look better in a tux, so the dress option was going to waste before I decided to persuade you to come with me.”
“A ball? Out here in the middle of winter? I thought this was a summer place.” Allie was torn between the thrill of going to a fancy party and the knowledge that she had no business doing so, especially since she was pretty sure that whole dress-with-the-tickets line was a lie.
“That’s the gimmick. It’s called the Barefoot Ball. Unless there’s a nor’easter coming, it’s held on the beach under giant tents with even larger heaters. Shoes are not allowed, but guests must wear black tie and ball gowns.”
“And you just remembered it?”
“No. I just worked up the nerve to invite you.”
That made Allie laugh, but she shook her head. “I’d be as out of place as . . . as Pie.”
Gavin looked at the cat, who had given up on getting any more seafood and gone to sleep on the chair seat. “Pie has no difficulty making herself at home in any environment. And you are equally adaptable.”
Allie hesitated, her conscience battling with her yearning.
Gavin put his hand over hers. “It would make me happy to treat you to this.”
“Well, as long as I’d be doing you a favor, I guess I can go along with the plan.” He looked happy, and he believed it was because of her. Emotions tangled in her chest, tightening around her heart.
She knew it was only going to make the stroke of midnight more painful, but she wanted to be Cinderella for one night. Although at this ball, there would be no glass slippers.
Chapter 23
When Gavin said they were going to a yacht club, Allie expected it to be elegant and clubby. Instead, the place looked like a bargain-basement sale, with rolling racks stuffed full of dresses scattered around the large entrance hall.
An immaculately groomed older woman rose from the desk set just inside the door. “Ah, Gavin, dear, so nice to see you.” She glided up to Gavin to give him an air-kiss before turning to Allie. “I’m Petra Willoughby, the vice chairman of the Barefoot Ball. How lovely to have you as our guest, Allie.”
Petra waved a hand at the racks. The huge diamond on her ring finger sparked in the sunlight. “We have a marvelous selection of dresses this year, donated by all the top designers. Letitia, darling, will you help Allie, please?”
Letitia was young, tall, stick thin, and dressed in black. Her smile, however, was sweet, and made endearing by one slightly crooked canine tooth. “Let’s go find the perfect gown for you to wear.”
“I’ll be in the bar,” Gavin said.
Allie felt a flutter of panic. She knew nothing about what to wear to a fancy Hamptons shindig. “Don’t you want to help choose the dress?”
He looked surprised and dismayed, then pleased. “Why don’t you show me the one you think is best, and I will exercise my power of approval . . . or veto.”
Letitia nodded and walked with Allie into a large room that looked like the beach had been moved indoors. Green-and-white-striped cabana tents were lined up on the wooden floor in rows, some with their flaps tied up, some with them rolled down. Women of all ages, shapes, and sizes carried ball gowns, inspected ball gowns, and paraded around in ball gowns. Allie had to close her eyes for a moment against the sensory overload of colors, fabrics, and glittering sequins and beads. The symphony of female voices was low and well modulated, but the overpowering scent of competing perfumes made her cough. She opened her eyes, blinked a couple of times, and followed Letitia to an empty cabana. Inside stood a three-paneled full-length mirror, an empty clothes rack, and a cushioned stool.
“Did you have a particular designer in mind?” Letitia asked.
Allie tried to recall who designed the dresses she had admired at the Oscars but came up blank. “Um, not really. Nothing too revealing, though.”
Letitia’s face took on a calculating edge as she scanned Allie up and down. “I’ll bring a few selections in to get an idea of what appeals to you. If you’re thirsty, there’s a bar set up at the far end of the room. Feel free to have some champagne.”
Allie sank onto the stool and watched two women come out of the cabanas across from her to assess each other’s dresses. One was dressed in a silver sequined number that highlighted her gilt blonde hair. The other wore a deep fuchsia chiffon that made Allie’s eyeballs hurt.
She pulled out her phone to check her e-mails. Still no job offers. She’d thought for sure that Dr. Cavill would have one by now. There wasn’t much more to do on Gavin’s series bible, so she would be out of work and out of income soon. Now that he was writing once more, there would be no compelling reason for him to keep her around.
Maybe she’d swig some of that champagne after all.
“Let’s see what you think of these,” Letitia said, bustling in with plastic-bagged dresses draped over her arm. “There’s only one of each style, so you don’t have to worry about seeing your twin at the party.”
