Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1)

by Taylor, Drucie Anne

  “Then let’s go for it.” I get out and crane my neck to look up at the monumental structure, with its turrets and flags. As I slam the door, I see him putting on his sunglasses and pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt. Only after his disguise is complete does he get out of the car and walk over to me.

  “Let’s go,” he says, and holds out his hand to me. I take it without thinking about it, and suddenly it feels like I’ve been struck by lightning. I decide to deal with the static charge instead of pulling my hand away.

  Gavin gives the keys to one of the valets so he can park the car. He leads me into the hotel lobby. I look around in amazement. I’ve rarely seen anything so luxurious. The polished marble floor gleams softly in the light of glittering chandeliers. I’ve been living in New York for a while, but I’ve never been in the Plaza. “Shall we try the hotel bar?” he asks. “Or, at the risk of sounding smarmy, shall we go have a drink in my suite?”

  You should have some fun. I hear Macey’s words in my mind again. “Whatever you feel like.”

  “Then let’s go to the bar.” He leads me through the lobby.

  A few minutes later in the richly decorated hotel bar, he looks at me inquisitively. “Should we sit in a booth, or at the bar?”

  I can’t keep a grin from spreading over my face. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I just want to be sure you feel comfortable.”

  “For one thing, it would be great if we could sit somewhere you feel comfortable, because you invited me,” I say cheerfully.

  “Then let’s sit in a booth,” he decides, and tells the waiter, who guides us to one. It’s in a quiet corner of the busy hotel bar. No one is sitting near us; it’s fairly private. Gavin orders a bottle of wine and a glass of water.

  “Pretty fancy here,” I say, still overwhelmed by the expensive interior design.

  “It’s the Plaza, after all.”

  “I don’t understand that. If you just want to be yourself, why do you book a suite in the most expensive hotel in New York?” I ask.

  “Because . . . Actually, I didn’t book the suite. My manager did.” Gavin laughs quietly. “He organized everything for my part on CDH.”

  “Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. I’m still so far away from having a manager myself.”

  “Are you? I thought all dancers had managers.”

  “I don’t need one, because I’m not particularly famous.”

  He takes his cell phone out of his sweatshirt pocket. “Should we see how famous Madeleine Dubois is?”

  When Gavin says my name like that, I get a tingle between my legs. No man has made me feel like that before.

  I hope he doesn’t see my Facebook page, I think desperately. Ever since my first appearance on CDH, a whole horde of haters have decided it’s fun to make nasty comments on my posts. That’s why I haven’t posted anything for weeks. I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t care about the 57,939 likes, because at least 15,000 of those come from people who can’t stand me and want to let me know it. I don’t understand why they’ve subscribed to my page if they hate me so much. My private profile is set to friends only, and my timeline can only be commented on by my real friends.

  “On Google there are a lot of results,” he says. “And some darn nice pictures, too.”

  “Most of them are from the competitions I won with Jonah.”

  “Is Jonah your boyfriend?”

  “Not really,” I say, trying to evade the question.

  “What does that mean? Can you have a boyfriend who isn’t really your boyfriend?” he says with a laugh.

  “Well, we were together, but we aren’t anymore.”

  “Ouch. And you still dance with him?”

  I nod. “Yeah. We’ve always kept our professional and private lives separate, anyway. Besides, it’s really difficult to find a dance partner that fits.”

  “It’s also not easy to find good backup dancers and singers, either,” he tells me.

  “Do you need backup dancers and singers?”

  “Sometimes. In the big shows, it helps to have a lot of dancers around.”

  “And what about the singers?” I ask.

  “When we sing our solos, it’s really nice to have backup singers other than guys in the band. At least, I like it. Otherwise, all the fans keep screaming for Linden or Alexis. They’re the ones all the tweens have crushes on.”

  I look at him quizzically. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t a tween heartthrob.”

  “I’ve got fans, too, but Linden’s and Alexis’s scream the loudest. Actually, that’s an advantage, because I’m not chased as much as they are.” The drinks arrive, and the waiter pours us each a glass of water and a glass of wine. Gavin thanks him without taking his eyes off me.

  “I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.”

  “I’m very glad that I’m wearing dance shoes at the moment.” He grins and raises his glass. “To a wonderful evening.”

  “Cheers,” I say as he carefully clinks his glass against mine. After the first sip of wine, his gaze keeps sticking to me like it’s a damn Post-it note. The tingling that it creates in my whole body is extremely pleasant, but somehow it makes me feel insecure, too. I take another swallow and push the wine glass aside. It will probably turn out to be a big mistake, because I don’t have any tolerance for alcohol. After one glass I’m usually so drunk that I can’t ride my bike home in a straight line.

  Gavin rests his chin in his hand and looks me over. “At the risk of sounding completely ridiculous, you’re a beautiful girl, Madeleine.”

  The blood shoots to my cheeks like glowing hot lava through my wine-dilated capillaries. “Uh . . . Thanks, Gavin.”

  The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, and then he smiles. “What do you do in your free time?”

  “Well, I like to dance in my free time, or do sports. A friend of mine sings in musicals, and I like to see her shows. So I keep pretty busy when I’m not practicing. What about you? What do you do in your free time?”

  “Free what?” he asks.

  I laugh softly.

  “It’s so rare that when I do have some, I go on dates with dance teachers, or I chill on the sofa and read or watch TV. The main point is to spend it at home or undisturbed in a hotel room,” he tells me.

  “You’re in hotel rooms more often than you’re at home, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t been home for ages. I stay in a house in the Hamptons with the guys from the band. We have a recording studio there, and a gym . . . But I haven’t been back to Orlando in ages.”

  “You’re from Florida?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Yup.”

  “What’s it like there? Is it true that the sun shines all year?”

  “It rains sometimes, too, but it’s usually warm.”

  “It must be beautiful.”

  “Very. Sometimes I really get homesick, and it gets me down. Then I wish I was in the house where I grew up, sitting on the comfy sofa by the fireplace, where there’s almost never a fire because it’s Florida,” he says, lost in the thought.

  I frown, because the way he describes sitting in front of the fireplace is exactly the way I imagine my perfect free evening.

  “Sounds corny, doesn’t it?”

  I shake my head. “Definitely not. It sounds like an ideal way to relax. Except I could only sit in front of the fireplace at my parents’ house, because I don’t have one in my apartment.”

  “So why don’t you still live with your parents?” he asks.

  “Because otherwise I would have a very long drive every day, and my car wouldn’t manage it. It’s an old scrap heap,” I say, laughing.

  “Where do they live?”

  “In the Hamptons.”

  Gavin’s deep-green eyes with gold flecks start to shine. I think I could lose myself in them. “Then you aren’t so far away from me.”

  “That’s true, but I’m not there very often.”

  “Why not?”<
br />
  “Because I’m either practicing or working. I’d hoped to get a part in the dance show, but since that didn’t work out, I have to look for a summer job so I can pay my rent,” I explain a little more quietly, because it makes me uncomfortable to admit it.

  “Why weren’t you asked to be on the show again?”

  “No idea. Really none. Sometimes they like to exchange the dancers to bring in a little variety. I’m a stand-in, and I’m in the ensemble for the opening show.”

  “So if someone gets sick or hurt, you would take over?” he asks.

  “Yes, but they’re all so professional, it almost never happens. I guess I’ll probably just dance in the ensemble this year, but that’s not so bad. And directly after the show there are two contests I have to dance in.”

  Gavin looks thoughtful. He just nods and looks at his wine. “I’d prefer to dance with you instead of Julie.”

  “How about if you dance with me every time we meet, if you aren’t too sore from practicing?” I suggest. Oh, God, what’s gotten into me? my conscience complains. It must be the wine talking. I’m not usually so direct.

  “I’ll take you up on it. When we danced it was a lot of fun and didn’t seem as forced as it does with Julie,” he says with a sigh. “Is it easy to tell that I don’t like her?”

  I grin at him mischievously. “A little.”

  “Dammit!” he blurts out, and takes a swallow of his wine.

  I do the same, except I empty my glass.

  “Thirsty?” Gavin asks with an eyebrow raised.

  “You could say so,” I respond, holding a hand in front of my mouth to keep myself from burping out loud. Why does wine make me burp? I think I’m the only person in the world who can bellow like a moose after drinking noncarbonated drinks.

  He refills my glass, and I watch with wide eyes. If I drink this one, I won’t even be able to ride my bike home. “You can take a taxi home, and I’ll bring you your bike tomorrow,” he says, as though he was reading my mind.

  I look into his eyes. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

  He refills his own glass, too, but he doesn’t drink from it. “You should write down your address for me.”

  “I’ll probably be at the dance school tomorrow afternoon. You can bring it there.”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow, too, all day. I’ll come see you, and give it to you when you’re done. Is that a deal?”

  “Yeah.” I smile. The alcohol is making me feel unusually warm. I’m starting to sweat, so I take off my jacket and put it on the bench next to me. I feel Gavin’s eyes on me again, and I look at him questioningly.

  He clears his throat when he realizes he’s staring. “Sorry.”

  “For?” I have no idea why he’s apologizing. When he looks at me that way, it gives me back a lot of the self-confidence that I lost during the shit-storm that followed my breakup with Jonah. At the moment, male attention does me good. I realize that now, but I still don’t want to tie myself down again so soon. The best thing I could do would be what Macey suggested, to enjoy my newly single life, complete with commitment-free sex. Sex with Gavin must be fantastic, I allow myself to think, and feel caught out when he rewards me with an incredibly sexy glance. My chest tightens as he puts his hand on my knee.

  “For staring at you.” Then he removes his hand, but it leaves a tingling feeling on my skin where he touched me.

  I have absolutely no idea what I should say, because all my senses are filled with him. I bite my lower lip and look around the bar. “Is it always so crowded here?” That’s such a fast change of subject it could cause whiplash, but it was the only thing I could think of to say. Dammit!

  “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve been here.”

  “Oh,” I say, and glance at my glass. “Should I really drink this?” If I drink it, he’ll definitely have to carry me to the taxi. I sigh and pick it up. “Is it true that famous singers aren’t allowed to have girlfriends?” I say, trying to change the subject again.

  Gavin looks at me like I just hit him with a baseball bat. “What do you mean?”

  “Is it true that guys in bands aren’t allowed to have girlfriends? I mean, you always hear they think it’s important to give the fans the feeling they’re available.” I look at him curiously.

  The sudden silence tells me he doesn’t know how to respond to my question. “Well, we originally had that clause in our contracts, but it’s been declared invalid since then. Linden has had a girlfriend for a while now, and before that he was engaged. That was publicly known, so it was totally crazy anyway to demand celibacy from us. By the way . . . I’m single, in case that’s what you were trying to find out.” He barely finishes speaking before he gives me a glowing smile. It would probably really glow in black light; I’m 100 percent sure his teeth are bleached.

  “Actually, I just wanted to know if the rumor was true.”

  “It’s true. Friends of mine who also play in a band have to pretend they’re single, even though there’s a couple in the group.”

  “Hmm. Pity for your friends. I wouldn’t want to have to keep it a secret if I was going out with a pop star. For me that would have nothing to do with his VIP status, but with him as a person.”

  “There should be more women like you.”

  I shrug my shoulders as I put down my half-empty glass. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

  “I’m going to recover from a rough week, kick back, and relax. Why do you ask?”

  “Just . . . I have tickets for the opening night of a show that my best friend is in, and I don’t know who to ask. I thought a little distraction from dance practice would do you good.”

  “Your friend, the Broadway star?”

  “Yeah. She’s playing Belle in Beauty and the Beast. But if you don’t want to go, I’ll ask Jake or another friend.”

  “Did you just ask me on a date?” he says with amusement.

  I shrug and take a moment to think about my answer. “A date would be eating by candlelight in a nice restaurant and getting to know each other.”

  Gavin takes a lighter out of the pocket of his sweatshirt and lights the candle on the table. “Then this is our first date, and tomorrow evening will be the second.”

  I blush again. Dammit! This cruel, traitorous body of mine is always giving me away! “OK.”

  “You blush a lot.”

  “I have to be sure that my cheeks are getting good circulation, don’t I?” I joke. He laughs. What I know of him, I really like. Gavin seems very nice and is definitely not aloof. Of course, that could be because there’s no one around that knows him. He obviously doesn’t feel like he has to put on a show.

  Chapter 3

  When I wake up the next morning, I can’t believe my eyes. I’m not in my own bed, and not even in my own room. I raise my throbbing head and realize I’m wearing a Ramones T-shirt that’s way too big for me.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

  I make a face. “Good morning,” I moan.

  Gavin hands me a glass of water and an aspirin. “After all that wine, I’m sure you can use this.”

  I accept gratefully. “Yeah, thanks.” After I wash the aspirin down with half of the water I put the glass on the bedside table. “Why am I still here?”

  “Because after the second glass you got totally sloshed. You couldn’t even talk straight, let alone walk, so I didn’t want to just put you in a taxi. I decided to let you stay the night here,” he answers as he sits on the edge of the bed.

  I rub my eyes. “I hope I didn’t say anything to embarrass myself.”

  “Not really. Children and drunks almost always tell the truth, and you let me in on a few details.” He grins. It feels like there’s a jackhammer pounding in my head.

  “What did I say?”

  “At some point you started to cry and told me you were unhappy with your life.”

  Shit! I definitely shouldn’t have had that second glass. After the moment I joked about blushin
g, I have absolutely no memory. I obviously blacked out at exactly the point where the evening got really interesting. What a drag.

  “You said something about haters, and you showed me your Facebook page. I couldn’t help writing a few nice comments under your posts and photos so those idiots weren’t the only ones taking up space.” He strokes my cheek with his finger. “I’m really sorry that they attacked you like that.”

  “There are worse things,” I say. “Like my headache.” My voice sounds like I’m suffering. I am, and how. I hate it when I don’t stop myself and just keep drinking. I should have drunk the water instead; that would have been a lot smarter.

  “And you’re wearing that shirt because I didn’t want to put you in bed in your clothes. Not that you threw up on yourself or anything, but I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

  “Thanks.” I put my hand on his to take it off my cheek, but then he suddenly bends closer and kisses me. At the first second, I’m completely shocked, but then I find myself returning his kiss. As our lips touch tentatively, he puts one hand on my back. With the other, he pushes me slowly backward onto the mattress so I have to arch my spine to keep from pinning his hand under me. Then his hand starts exploring. It glides down over my breasts to the bottom of my shirt, and slips underneath. I gasp as his cold fingers brush against my side.

  And then, just as suddenly as he started, he stops. Gavin pulls back from me and looks at me again. “Sorry . . . I have no idea what got into me. I’ll go take a cold shower.” Then he jumps up and goes into the bathroom without giving me a chance to tell him that everything’s OK.

  He thinks I’m ugly is the first thing that runs through my mind. Despite feeling like I was run over by a truck last night, I manage to get up and look for my clothes, which I find lying on a chair. I pull them on over the T-shirt, in too much of a rush to bother taking it off. I have to get out of here. I have to go home and check if there’s anything on the dance school schedule today, anyway. I hear the shower starting as I leave the bedroom. There’s a notepad and pen on the dining table, so I write Gavin a note:

  Thanks for letting me stay the night! It would be nice if you could bring my bike to the dance school, and please tell Jake he should put it in the garage if I don’t have a class today. See you! Lane.