The VIP Doubles Down
Page 83
“Stop,” Allie said, chuckling. “I’ll bet it was gorgeous, too.”
“Gavin, darling.” A willowy woman with wings of silver in her dark hair gave Gavin an air-kiss. She turned to Allie with her hand extended. “I’m Elaine Vanderhoof. So nice to meet a friend of Gavin’s.”
“Allie Nichols.” Allie was surprised by the warmth and firmness of Elaine’s grasp. “I love the decorations.”
“The very talented decorating committee handles all that.”
“Allie feels your idea of making the ball barefoot was pure genius,” Gavin said, sliding Allie a sly glance. “Whimsical and playful, I believe she said. And unique.”
Allie levered her elbow sharply into Gavin’s rib cage while she smiled serenely at Elaine. When he let out a muffled grunt, her smile widened into a grin.
To her surprise, Elaine grimaced with a comic look. “Every year I wage that battle all over again. The ladies like to have an excuse to buy shoes, and the gentlemen are just stodgy. So I need all the ammunition I can get.”
Allie wiggled her toes. “Keep up the fight! It’s worth it.”
“Now that I have the endorsement of Gavin Miller’s date to throw behind my position, I’ll be fine. We are all so grateful for his support.”
Gavin lifted his hand, palm outward. “You promised, Elaine.”
The other woman sighed. “All right, no expressions of gratitude.” She gave a little wave, and a waiter appeared, bearing a tray with filled champagne flutes. She took one and raised it. “However, I can drink a silent toast to your generosity.”
Allie took a glass and tapped it against Elaine’s while Gavin glowered, but with a twitch at the corner of his lips. “I fail to see how that is not an expression of gratitude,” he said.
Elaine gave an elegant shrug. “It did not contain the words thank or you.”
Allie clinked with Elaine again as they exchanged a victory glance.
“I see I shall have to separate you two.” Gavin put his arm around Allie’s waist, seized a glass of champagne, and steered her away from Elaine.
Allie waved as Gavin swept them in the direction of an adjoining tent, where a multipiece orchestra played dance music. “We’re going to dance so no one else can bother us.” He threw back his champagne in one gulp before plunking both of their glasses on an empty table as they passed into the dance tent. Pulling her into his arms, he said, “I think they’re playing our song.”
“What’s our song? ‘Paperback Writer’?” Allie chortled.
“That’s my song. And your song is”—he thought for a moment before giving her one of his wicked looks—“‘Country Girl, Shake It for Me.’”
His low voice purring in her ear and the length of his body pressed against hers sent a fizz of pleasure through her. “You know that monks don’t sing that,” she said remembering his preference for Gregorian chants.
He laughed and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “I don’t feel at all like a monk right now.”
Allie snuggled into him, closing her eyes to savor all the places their bodies brushed together and how the friction of their movements fueled the heat building inside her. She realized they were dancing to “The Girl From Ipanema” and opened her eyes to look up at him. “Do they play nothing but beach-themed songs?”
“Thank God, no. Just early in the evening when people might notice their cleverness.”
His eyes were blazing with the same heat that glowed through her. The memory of how he’d touched her in the car sent arousal sliding down through her to settle in a throb low in her belly.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that in public,” he growled.
“You shouldn’t make me feel like this in public.”
He took them into a series of turns so that she clung to him for balance. And suddenly they were in a quiet corner away from the other dancers. He surprised her by releasing her from his embrace and lifting his hands to frame her face.
She expected a passionate kiss, but he just stood looking down at her for a long moment before he brushed his lips softly against hers.
He lifted his head and sucked in a breath so deep, she could feel his chest expand against the palms of her hands.
Gavin hesitated, remembering the pain of being abandoned by the women he loved. He’d just clawed his way out of that pit, so why did he want to risk hurling himself back into it again?
Because this was Allie. The muse who broke through his writer’s block. The sprite who answered his snark with sass. The woman who met his passion with fire. The healer who laid her hands on his damaged body and spirit and made them whole.
She would never betray his trust.
“Allie,” he said, his throat so tight he had to clear it. He let his hands slide down to her shoulders, running his thumbs along the fragile collarbones under the cream of her skin. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, except: Stay. Always. But it was too soon for that. “I know you think this isn’t real, what we have out here. But it feels real to me. I don’t want to lose it, to lose you, when we go back to the city.”
He stared up at the candles suspended over their heads for a moment, trying to recall the words he’d composed earlier. “Damn it, writing the words is so much easier than saying them.”
“You won’t lose me,” she said, her eyes picking up flickers of candlelight while her lips curved into a soft smile. He wanted to kiss them in the hope that he could transfer his thoughts directly to her mind. “I want this to be real, too,” she said. “It’s just hard to believe it can be.”
He tightened his grip on her, as though that would keep her from slipping out of his emotional grasp. “Why do you find it so hard to believe that I would want you to stay with me?”
“Because there’s a world of difference between you and me.”
What could he say to convince her? He gave up on words and pulled her to him, kissing her with all the longing pent up inside him. She melted against him, her body pliant and sweet under his roving hands. When they made love, he felt as though she was his, with nothing held back. Maybe he could persuade her more effectively in bed.
“I found you, you son of a bitch.” Someone seized his shoulder from behind.
Gavin tore himself away from the delicious feel of Allie and turned, shielding her with his body. “Hugh? What the hell?”
“Gavin, darling.” A willowy woman with wings of silver in her dark hair gave Gavin an air-kiss. She turned to Allie with her hand extended. “I’m Elaine Vanderhoof. So nice to meet a friend of Gavin’s.”
“Allie Nichols.” Allie was surprised by the warmth and firmness of Elaine’s grasp. “I love the decorations.”
“The very talented decorating committee handles all that.”
“Allie feels your idea of making the ball barefoot was pure genius,” Gavin said, sliding Allie a sly glance. “Whimsical and playful, I believe she said. And unique.”
Allie levered her elbow sharply into Gavin’s rib cage while she smiled serenely at Elaine. When he let out a muffled grunt, her smile widened into a grin.
To her surprise, Elaine grimaced with a comic look. “Every year I wage that battle all over again. The ladies like to have an excuse to buy shoes, and the gentlemen are just stodgy. So I need all the ammunition I can get.”
Allie wiggled her toes. “Keep up the fight! It’s worth it.”
“Now that I have the endorsement of Gavin Miller’s date to throw behind my position, I’ll be fine. We are all so grateful for his support.”
Gavin lifted his hand, palm outward. “You promised, Elaine.”
The other woman sighed. “All right, no expressions of gratitude.” She gave a little wave, and a waiter appeared, bearing a tray with filled champagne flutes. She took one and raised it. “However, I can drink a silent toast to your generosity.”
Allie took a glass and tapped it against Elaine’s while Gavin glowered, but with a twitch at the corner of his lips. “I fail to see how that is not an expression of gratitude,” he said.
Elaine gave an elegant shrug. “It did not contain the words thank or you.”
Allie clinked with Elaine again as they exchanged a victory glance.
“I see I shall have to separate you two.” Gavin put his arm around Allie’s waist, seized a glass of champagne, and steered her away from Elaine.
Allie waved as Gavin swept them in the direction of an adjoining tent, where a multipiece orchestra played dance music. “We’re going to dance so no one else can bother us.” He threw back his champagne in one gulp before plunking both of their glasses on an empty table as they passed into the dance tent. Pulling her into his arms, he said, “I think they’re playing our song.”
“What’s our song? ‘Paperback Writer’?” Allie chortled.
“That’s my song. And your song is”—he thought for a moment before giving her one of his wicked looks—“‘Country Girl, Shake It for Me.’”
His low voice purring in her ear and the length of his body pressed against hers sent a fizz of pleasure through her. “You know that monks don’t sing that,” she said remembering his preference for Gregorian chants.
He laughed and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “I don’t feel at all like a monk right now.”
Allie snuggled into him, closing her eyes to savor all the places their bodies brushed together and how the friction of their movements fueled the heat building inside her. She realized they were dancing to “The Girl From Ipanema” and opened her eyes to look up at him. “Do they play nothing but beach-themed songs?”
“Thank God, no. Just early in the evening when people might notice their cleverness.”
His eyes were blazing with the same heat that glowed through her. The memory of how he’d touched her in the car sent arousal sliding down through her to settle in a throb low in her belly.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that in public,” he growled.
“You shouldn’t make me feel like this in public.”
He took them into a series of turns so that she clung to him for balance. And suddenly they were in a quiet corner away from the other dancers. He surprised her by releasing her from his embrace and lifting his hands to frame her face.
She expected a passionate kiss, but he just stood looking down at her for a long moment before he brushed his lips softly against hers.
He lifted his head and sucked in a breath so deep, she could feel his chest expand against the palms of her hands.
Gavin hesitated, remembering the pain of being abandoned by the women he loved. He’d just clawed his way out of that pit, so why did he want to risk hurling himself back into it again?
Because this was Allie. The muse who broke through his writer’s block. The sprite who answered his snark with sass. The woman who met his passion with fire. The healer who laid her hands on his damaged body and spirit and made them whole.
She would never betray his trust.
“Allie,” he said, his throat so tight he had to clear it. He let his hands slide down to her shoulders, running his thumbs along the fragile collarbones under the cream of her skin. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, except: Stay. Always. But it was too soon for that. “I know you think this isn’t real, what we have out here. But it feels real to me. I don’t want to lose it, to lose you, when we go back to the city.”
He stared up at the candles suspended over their heads for a moment, trying to recall the words he’d composed earlier. “Damn it, writing the words is so much easier than saying them.”
“You won’t lose me,” she said, her eyes picking up flickers of candlelight while her lips curved into a soft smile. He wanted to kiss them in the hope that he could transfer his thoughts directly to her mind. “I want this to be real, too,” she said. “It’s just hard to believe it can be.”
He tightened his grip on her, as though that would keep her from slipping out of his emotional grasp. “Why do you find it so hard to believe that I would want you to stay with me?”
“Because there’s a world of difference between you and me.”
What could he say to convince her? He gave up on words and pulled her to him, kissing her with all the longing pent up inside him. She melted against him, her body pliant and sweet under his roving hands. When they made love, he felt as though she was his, with nothing held back. Maybe he could persuade her more effectively in bed.
“I found you, you son of a bitch.” Someone seized his shoulder from behind.
Gavin tore himself away from the delicious feel of Allie and turned, shielding her with his body. “Hugh? What the hell?”
