“Thank you.” Panic banished astonishment. What did you wear to a billionaire’s dinner party? What sort of hostess gift could you bring to people who could buy literally anything? Could she ask Gavin any of these questions?
As she debated, Gavin’s friends departed, leaving the two of them alone in the VIP room.
“I’d better go home, too,” Allie said, her head spinning. “I have a very tough patient to see tomorrow morning.”
Gavin snorted. “I am putty in your powerful hands.” He reached into the book carton and pulled out a hardcover wrapped in a plastic bag. The angles of his face softened, and she felt her breath flutter in response. “This is for you. With my thanks for coming. I signed it.”
As Allie accepted it, their fingertips brushed, sending a flicker of pleasure over her skin. “I wish Mama could see this. Me getting an autographed Julian Best book from the author himself.” A tiny burn of tears stung her eyes.
“Maybe the last Julian Best book.”
She looked up to find Gavin’s expression had turned desolate.
Allie shook her head. “You’re going to write a boatload more if I have to pummel them out of you.”
That chased away the bleakness. “And that’s why I asked you to come here,” he said, his sea green eyes changing from stormy to intent. He took a step closer so she could smell the rich leather of his jacket. “There’s just one other thing I need to do.” He stretched out his hand to stroke her hair before he picked up several strands to rub between his fingertips.
His movements sent a tingle dancing over her scalp that made her eyelids drift half-closed to savor the delicious sensation.
“It’s as silky as it looks, but not as warm,” he said, his voice a rasp. “It should singe my fingers like a flame.”
“Then it would set my clothes on fire,” she managed to say.
His eyes changed color again to something unsettling as he continued to toy with her hair. “H. Rider Haggard wrote a book called She in which the heroine bathes in magic flames to make herself immortal. That’s what your hair makes me think of.”
“Um, I’ll see if they have a copy here.” Between the low rumble of his voice, the hot light in his eyes, and his touch on her hair, Allie was having a hard time breathing.
“It’s a love story, not a murder mystery,” he said, holding her hair a moment longer before he stroked it back into place alongside her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a fraction of a second longer.
This was even more confusing than the dinner invitation. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for working with rich people.
“I’ll order it from Amazon.” She needed to leave, but he seemed to have hypnotized her so she couldn’t move.
He barked out a laugh. “Don’t let them hear you say that in this store.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Allie said, relieved and disappointed to be released from his strange magnetic spell. She forced herself to walk calmly to the bookcase where she’d stuffed her coat, seizing it and bolting out the door, just like Kendra Leigh.
Gavin seemed to have that effect on people.
Chapter 10
Gavin had been monosyllabic throughout his treatment, but Allie was used to his moods by now, so she just did her job. He had tensed up again, so she had to really probe the knots. It was the nature of her work: one step forward, two steps back. The human body didn’t heal in a linear progression.
Besides, she had some idea of what his appearance at the book signing last night had cost him, given his lack of a new book to sign or even to promise for the future. She hoped Kendra Leigh appreciated the guts it had taken for Gavin to support the first-time author with his public presence.
As she walked over to get the swiss ball, Gavin snapped, “Can’t we dispense with that today?”
“You know it will help.”
“Not where I really need help. You owe me a discussion about Julian.”
She didn’t point out that he was the one who had canceled their two previous attempts to discuss his spy hero. “Why don’t we talk about Julian and then revisit using the ball?” she said.
He skewered her with a look. “Are you sure you weren’t a literary agent in a past life?”
“Physical therapy is not easy, so I’ve learned the art of negotiation,” Allie said, stowing the ball back on its rack.
“You call it negotiation. I call it blackmail.”
Gavin slid off the massage table and reached for his shirt, his torso twisting so his muscles stretched and flexed in ways that made liquid heat flow through her. He’d also just demonstrated that her work had relaxed him.
“You look like you’re moving more easily,” she said.
He yanked his shirt down over his head and scowled at her. “Damn it, I am. You just had to ruin my bad mood.”
“I’ve been called obnoxiously cheerful.” She grinned at him.
He couldn’t hold on to the scowl. “As long as you don’t sing ‘The sun’ll come out tomorrow,’ I can tolerate you. Barely.”
“Am I allowed to thank you for the book now?” He’d written an inscription about her mother that had made her cry. “What you said was beautiful.”
“Don’t get maudlin on me,” he said. She could tell he was pleased, though. He came close enough to cup his hands over her shoulders. “Thank you for coming to the book signing. Every time someone asked when the next book was coming out, I reminded myself of our discussions about Julian. It kept me from bolting.”
She had a hard time focusing on his words because she was savoring the warmth and strength of his hands on her. It was odd. She had touched him so often, but having him touch her was an entirely different sensation. She could feel it radiating down her arms and through her chest before it wound deep within her.
“I can’t picture you running away from a book signing,” she said, trying to counterbalance her yearning.
“Maybe not.” He released her as one corner of his mouth quirked up. “I don’t mind offending my friends, but I try never to upset a reader.”
She wanted to close her eyes to hang on to the phantom heat still glowing inside her, but Gavin seized her elbow and towed her toward the stairs.
“Time for a chat.”
He let her precede him up the steps and into his office, waving her into the chair she’d occupied when Irene had stormed in. Allie had wondered if the actress would show up at the book signing and had been relieved when she hadn’t.
“What would you like for refreshment?” Gavin asked, after paging Ludmilla on the intercom.
“Water’s good.”
He cast an exasperated glance at the ceiling. “Ludmilla, bring water, coffee, tea, and a selection of sandwiches.”
Allie decided now was the best time to broach her embarrassing topic. “Before we start on Julian, can I ask you a question?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever needed permission?”
“Um, I’m not sure if I should go to the dinner party at Chloe and Nathan’s house. Nathan looked surprised when Chloe invited me, so it seems kind of . . . weird.”
His eyebrows arched even more. “Weird?”
“You know.” She made a vague gesture. “They’re really rich and they just met me, and I don’t understand why I got invited.”
“Would you come to a dinner party here?”
“Here? That’s weird for a different reason. I work for you.”
“I’m trying to follow your logic. Not to be a braggart, but I’m quite rich as well. However, my wealth wouldn’t stop you from dining here. Your employment would.” He sat back in his chair. “Whereas Nathan and Chloe’s wealth stops you from dining with them?”
Allie gave him one of her patented don’t-mess-with-a-mountain-woman looks. “You know what I mean.”
“I suppose I do. They’re good people, Allie. Nathan made his money the old-fashioned way, by earning it. Neither he nor Chloe thinks that being rich makes them better than anyone else.”
“Maybe it doesn’t make them better, but it makes them different. And I have no idea what to wear!” Allie said in frustration.
Gavin laughed, a throaty, rich, fully committed sound of amusement. “Finally, we get to the crux of the matter.”
His laughter fizzed in her blood like bubbles in champagne. It was the first time she’d heard him sound purely happy. “My wardrobe doesn’t run to haute couture,” she said.
“I don’t remember Chloe or Miranda wearing anything particularly fancy at the book signing.”
“Trust me, everything they had on was designer.” The simpler the skirt or blouse, the easier it was to tell that it was perfectly cut for the wearer.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Chloe worked for Nathan’s company as a temp. And Miranda was the assistant concierge in Luke’s apartment building. They both know what it’s like not to own designer clothing.”
Allie felt a small measure of relief. “Okay, but do I wear a cocktail dress, a regular dress, or nice pants?”
“Good God, I don’t know. Call Chloe and ask her.”
“What are you wearing?” she persisted.
“I haven’t given it a moment’s thought.”
“Well, think about it now.”
Gavin looked at the ceiling again. “A pair of gray trousers, a black silk shirt, and a tweed blazer. With black loafers. Satisfied?”
“That helps, but I’ll take Chloe’s phone number, please.”
He texted it to her cell phone.
She decided it would be useless to ask him what she should bring as a hostess gift.
“You are still planning to come, aren’t you?” Gavin shifted in his chair.
Allie knew she shouldn’t, but it was too tempting to find out what a billionaire’s dinner party was like. Even more intriguing was the prospect of watching Gavin interact with his friends. “I’ll be there,” she said.
“I’ll pick you up. Now that you’ve become accustomed to riding in a car in New York.”
It had been a luxury to walk out of her apartment this morning and have Jaros, the chauffeur, take her duffel bag out of her hand to stow it in the trunk while she settled on the soft leather of the Bentley’s backseat. It turned out that Jaros was Ludmilla’s husband, which somehow made it all seem sort of cozy and friendly.
Ludmilla rolled a cart in the door, ending the conversation. Allie accepted some hot tea and a plate of dainty finger sandwiches just to please the housekeeper.
As Allie bit into the most delicious combination of turkey and avocado she’d ever tasted, Gavin nodded and said, “Keep eating so I can work you mercilessly.”
She’d been dreading this, knowing that she had nothing of value to offer the writer. She took another bite of the sandwich as a delaying tactic.
“Which is your favorite Julian Best novel?” Gavin asked.
She’d expected him to grill her on how Julian would meet the woman of his dreams, so the question relieved her. “That’s easy. Best of Times.”
“Why?” Gavin toyed with a sandwich but kept his gaze on her.
“It’s the book where he finds out that Samantha is a double agent. Then he has to make the decision about whether to continue their relationship or break it off. We get to see more of Julian’s thoughts than usual as he struggles with the implications of his discovery. His emotions and his job clash, so it reveals depth in his character.” She’d gone on too long. “Sorry. I really love that book.”
Gavin smiled. “Don’t feel you have to stop. There’s no sweeter music to an author’s ears than having a reader speak passionately about his book.”
“Okay, I have another favorite for a completely different reason. Best Laid Plans, because we meet Julian’s brother. Giving him family adds another dimension to his character. And the plot in that book is really meaty.”
“Any other favorites?” Gavin took a bite of his sandwich.
“Best of Both Worlds has a really great setting. I liked all the details about space stations and resupplying them. That was exciting and different.” Allie shrugged. “Mama and I used to try to list them in order of our preference, but we never could because there was always something we loved about each book.”
“I guess that answers my question about which book you liked the least.”
Allie buried her nose in her teacup.
“Allie?”
She put the tea down. “I didn’t want to say this, but Good, Better, Best didn’t work for me. But that’s just my opinion.”
“The dagger to the heart.” His words were dramatic, but when she glanced up at him, he had a slight smile playing around his lips. “What was wrong with it?”
Allie debated how to phrase it. “You know all that character growth I talked about? It was like it was all erased. He went back to being the Julian of the early books. I felt frustrated when he seemed to regress.”
Gavin leaned forward in his chair. “You are a perceptive reader. That book was an early manuscript, one that originally got rejected by the publisher. I revised it heavily, but the story didn’t lend itself to emotional growth, so I let Julian cruise through it without being touched in any profound way.” He shook his head. “I did my fans a disservice by releasing that book.”
“It was still a really good story,” Allie said, sorry that she had been so frank. “Not everyone wants their spies to have feelings.”
“Don’t backpedal,” Gavin said. “Your honesty is valuable to me. At this stage of my career, I don’t get a lot of that, except from Jane. So let’s talk specifics.”
They spent the next hour discussing the books. Gavin would choose a scene and ask Allie questions about how she responded to it. She forgot to be tactful as they ranged over what succeeded and what had fallen short. Her mind was racing, making connections she hadn’t made before and digging deep to figure out why she liked or disliked something.
When Gavin called an end to the discussion, exhilaration was surging through her, as though she’d drunk from a cold, clear spring of pure thought. Talking with him made her feel like a real literary critic because he treated her opinions with such respect.
“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” she said, stacking her empty dishes and reaching for his.
“Ludmilla will get those,” Gavin said.
“I don’t mind. I need to move, because there’s all this excitement zooming around inside me.” She carried the dishes to the cart.
When she turned, Gavin was standing close to her, the air between them vibrating with his heat and breath and scent.
Very slowly, he stretched his hand out to trace along her cheek and jaw with his fingertips. His touch mesmerized her, so she stood motionless while he skimmed down the side of her neck to the place where her collarbone was bared by the V of her shirt. Wherever he touched, her skin lit up as though charged with electricity, making her breathing go shallow and her heart stutter.
He took one step closer so that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, their green gone translucent. He brought his other hand up to thread into her ponytail, cradling her head. The aroma of the wintergreen massage oil wove around her, carried by the warmth of his body as the fabric of their shirts brushed together. If she breathed too deeply, the tight tips of her breasts would touch the wall of his chest.
For a moment, they both stood like that, the only movement the soft brush of his thumb across her collarbone.
“No.” He pulled his hands away from her and stepped back. “You don’t deserve that.” He threw himself into his chair.
She sucked in a shaky breath as his sensual spell dissipated. “I don’t deserve what?”
He shook his head. “You gave me a great gift, and I was about to express my gratitude in the worst possible way.” He pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. “Go home, Allie, before my self-control snaps. Jaros is waiting for you out front.”
She had thought he was going to kiss her. Hoped for it because she had gone temporarily insane. It
was against the professional code of ethics to have a sexual relationship with a patient. Maybe a kiss did not have to lead to sex, but it was still crossing the line.
And Gavin could tempt her into crossing all kinds of lines.
Gavin watched Allie skitter out of his office and hated himself.
It was all that energy vibrating between them. She was so excited about his books that she had transmitted it to him. Allie remembered details about his stories that he had forgotten. She made Julian come alive again. He had begun to feel a stirring of interest in where to take his character next.
Her gray eyes had snapped with intelligence, and her West Virginia twang faded away when she got engrossed in the conversation. Except when she mentioned her mother. Then her voice slowed to a deep, warm drawl.
Her creamy skin had taken on a rose flush as she debated with him, and her flaming ponytail flowed over her shoulder like a river of fire. Now that he knew what that silky hair felt like, he wanted to sink his fingers into it again.
When she had sparkled at him and told him what fun she’d had, something inside him had given way. He’d needed to touch her, to feel that sweet exhilaration under his hands, on his lips, against his body.
Thank God he’d stopped. His Allie was a woman of principle, so he knew damn well that if he kissed her, she would refuse to be his therapist any longer.
And he couldn’t afford to lose her.
Chapter 11
Allie’s cell phone pinged with a text saying Gavin had arrived in front of her building. She checked herself in the mirror even though she’d already changed her clothes half a dozen times.
Her final decision had come down to a conservative outfit of black trousers topped by a forest green silk blouse with long sleeves and a deep V neckline. She’d accessorized with high-heeled black pumps and a string of pearls that had belonged to her mother, hoping the real gems would offset her sale-rack clothes. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, leaving a few tendrils waving beside her face.
She’d decided to forgo a hostess gift since she figured billionaires didn’t need anything she could afford. A handwritten thank-you note afterward would have to suffice.
The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3) Page 10