The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3)

by Nancy Herkness

  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.

  “Let me think about it,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her free hand.

  He groaned and let his head fall forward. “Goddamn it, why do you have to have principles?” Then he raised his hand like a stop signal. “No, I don’t mean that. What you are is why I want you.”

  “Say that again so I can understand it,” she said, but he had already made her heart dance with pleasure.

  “Your principles are part of the person you are, and I want your person.” His smile was strained, as though he was trying to force humor where he didn’t feel it.

  But she had heard him the first time, and it had made her decision for her.

  “I’ll take the job.”

  A look of relief banished the strain from his smile. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” The simple words held surprising depths of emotion. “When can you come tomorrow?”

  Allie took a deep breath. His honesty deserved the same from her. “Anytime. Here’s the thing: I don’t have any other clients right now. I was working at the Havilland Rehabilitation Center until very recently. I lost my position because my ex-husband showed up drunk and harassed the patients there. Twice. My boss felt bad about it, but he had no choice. I’m still looking for another job.”

  Gavin rocked back in his chair. “You were married?”

  Chapter 13

  That explained the treadmill and the pull-up bar, but it didn’t explain the shock that vibrated through Gavin. He’d thought of Allie as a sweet, fresh, untouched country girl. A hard-drinking ex-husband knocked that image on its ear. He examined her face, looking for signs of bitterness or despair, the things he’d felt when he and Irene blew apart.

  But the same Allie looked back at him, her gray eyes clear, her creamy skin unlined, her mouth soft and tempting.

  “How do you do it?” he asked. “Do you have a portrait tucked away in basement storage?”

  “A portrait?” Her eyebrows drew downward as she puzzled over his comment. “Oh, you’re talking about The Picture of Dorian Gray.” Her jaw tightened. “What terrible sins do you think would show on my portrait?”

  “Not sins. Disappointment, disillusionment, despair.”

  “Mama always said I was a natural-born optimist. I see the good in everyone, even when it’s not there.” Now her mouth had a bitter twist.

  “You were very fortunate in your mother.” And he had not been. “Your ex-husband was an alcoholic?”

  “Troy? No. He was an actor.”

  Gavin laughed. “You say that as though it’s even worse.”

  She flattened her hands on the table. “The constant stream of rejections got to him, so he would sometimes drink too much. We came here with such high hopes.” She met his eyes. “He has real talent. He just doesn’t have a thick skin.”

  “I know all about rejection.”

  “You mean your first Julian Best novel didn’t sell right away?”

  Gavin snorted. “It took me a while to find Julian, and even then, it took Jane’s ruthless editorial pen to whip him into shape.”

  “It’s rough when an editor doesn’t like your character, but it’s got to be worse when a casting director doesn’t like you.”

  “You must have loved him very much.”

  She looked startled.

  “You’re still making excuses for him.” He had done that for Irene. For too long.

  She twisted her fingers into a lock of her hair, making him want to do the same. “Troy and I were high school sweethearts.” She shrugged. “He’s in LA now with a short-term role on a soap opera. If they like him, it might become permanent. I wish him success.”

  The information about her ex being three thousand miles away loosened a tightness Gavin hadn’t known he was feeling. “How long were you married?”

  “Five years, give or take.” She picked up her fork. “You should eat or your omelet will get cold.”

  Five years. His omelet was already cold, but he ate it so he had time to rearrange the pieces of Allie in his mind. She’d been part of a couple for a significant amount of time. That changed a person, especially when the couple broke apart.

  If she were a character in one of his books, he’d have to go back and rewrite all the scenes she was in to drop in clues about her backstory. He’d made assumptions based on his own preconceived notions, not on her reality.

  “Why do you keep looking at me that way?” she asked, her tone challenging.

  “Because I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you were married for so long.”

  “Long? My grandparents were married for fifty-seven years.” She began to stack the plates. “I was a failure in the longevity department.”

  “There must have been serious problems for you to give up on the marriage.”

  “At some point you have to admit you made a mistake.” She shrugged and stood up. “The one positive feature this building has is plenty of hot water, so you can shower while I do the dishes if you’d like. And if you don’t mind the cat’s litter box.” She gave him a rueful smile.

  “I’ll help you with the dishes,” he said.

  “You cooked. I clean up. That’s the deal in this household.” She headed for the kitchen.

  So many divorced couples he knew hurled all the blame at the other partner. His Allie took it on herself.

  Walking to the bedroom, he opened the door Allie had closed, and the cat bolted out like a gray streak.

  “Yes, Miss Pie, I saved you some of my breakfast,” he heard Allie say from the kitchen.

  The warmth in her voice tempted him to go watch her interact with the cat, but he wanted a New York Times, so he retrieved his shoes and socks. As he tucked in his shirt, his cell phone vibrated.

  “I’m alive and well, Ludmilla,” he said.

  “I know, Mr. Gavin. Security tell me if you aren’t,” his housekeeper said, deadpan. “You have important visitor.”

  He glanced at his watch. “On Sunday morning? I didn’t schedule any
meetings.”

  “Is friend on unexpected visit.” A male voice sounded in the background. “One minute,” Ludmilla said.

  “Gavin, I didn’t want Ludmilla to tell you who was here because I was afraid you’d refuse to come home.”

  A grin tugged at the corners of Gavin’s mouth. “Hugh, you son of a gun. When did you get into town?”

  Hugh Baker’s acting career had been launched by his role as Julian Best, but he was now a superstar in his own right. He could have handed over the role of Julian to another actor, but his gratitude and friendship with Gavin kept him in the franchise.

  “Late last night. I’m filming a PSA—sorry, public service announcement—for the next couple of days. I hoped I could beg a room from you.”

  Gavin mentally cursed Hugh’s terrible timing. “No begging necessary.” He heard the water stop running in the kitchen. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “No, no, don’t rearrange your day to suit me. I’ll just take advantage of the amenities, like Ludmilla’s superb cooking.”

  A faint sound of the housekeeper’s voice came through the phone, and he knew she was pleased by the actor’s compliment. In the right mood, Hugh could charm birds of prey out of the proverbial trees. What few people knew was that the actor had a dark side, which was why he stayed with friends whenever he could. It kept him on an even keel.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Gavin said, disconnecting. Allie was standing in the doorway, watching him. He walked over to wrap his arms around her and bring her soft curves against him. “I have a surprise guest whom you’ll appreciate. Hugh Baker.”

  Her face lit up. “The embodiment of Julian. So you’re friends?”

  “Since the first movie.” Hugh had known it was the role of a lifetime, so he’d made a point of thanking the writer when Gavin visited the set. They’d recognized each other as kindred spirits and gone drinking together that night. He’d been amazed when he stumbled onto the set the next morning with a nasty hangover to find Hugh filming a strenuous action scene without visible aftereffects. That was the beginning of the actor’s reputation for never letting anything get in the way of his job. Directors and producers loved him for that . . . and for his sheer, raw star power.

  “You should get home, then,” Allie said, putting her hands on his chest and pushing.

  He frowned. “Don’t you want to meet Hugh?”

  “Old friends need time alone to catch up,” she said.

  He tightened his grip so that her hands were trapped between them and lowered his mouth to taste her. When she gave a little hum of pleasure, he slid his hands down to squeeze her bottom and pull her even harder against him so that she could feel the beginnings of his arousal. He raised his lips an inch above hers. “Let’s take a shower together. I want to run my hands over your soap-slick skin. And then slide inside you where it’s slick in a whole different way.”

  He felt the hitch in her breath. “You have company,” she said, but her hands were fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

  “Hugh would understand.” He ran his hands up under her tee to feel her bare skin against his palms. He kissed the sweet, soft side of her neck. “Not that I intend to tell him.”

  “Have you seen my shower?” She tilted her head to give him more access. “It’s so small we’ll have to take turns standing in it.”

  “It will force us to get very intimate.” He flicked open the clasp of her bra, and she sighed without him even touching her breasts.

  “I used to have willpower,” she said, rotating her hips against his now full-on erection.

  And then they were stripping each other’s clothes off and dropping them on the floor. Allie laced her fingers with his and led him to a door in the hallway.

  The bathroom was filled with standard-issue white apartment-size fixtures as well as a large covered cat box. Allie was obviously a meticulous cat owner, because there was no unpleasant odor. The silver-gray of the towels and tiny rug matched the gray-and-red plaid of the shower curtain. Allie pulled it aside and turned to him with laughter in her eyes. “Maybe if we both inhale.”

  He eyed the small fiberglass shower cubicle, his vision filled with the image of Allie pressed against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist while he pumped into her. His cock pulled even tighter. “It’s exactly the right size for what I have in mind.” He dropped the condom on the sink and backed her into the shower, laying his naked body against hers as she halted at the back wall. She reached around him and spun the water on, the first splash of cold droplets making him howl in surprise.

  She laughed and threaded her hands into his hair. “I’ll warm you up,” she said, pulling his head down for a kiss that sent every drop of his blood to his groin. He had planned to take his time, to explore the curves and crevices of her body as he ran a bar of soap over her smooth skin. But his plan blew to bits when she dug her fingers into his flanks, gripping the muscles hard as she ground herself against him while the now hot water sluiced over them.

  Allie was the one who slid the soap over him, running it downward to circle his cock, making him throw his head back with a long groan as pleasure rampaged through him. He grabbed her wrist to rub his hand over the soap before he slid his fingers between her legs, thrusting up inside her with two at once. She gasped and arched, and he felt her fingernails on his buttocks.

  Keeping his fingers hooked inside her, he scrubbed his other hand on the soap she held and found her already tight nipple, rolling it between his slippery fingers. She bucked harder against him, the pressure against his cock arousing to the point of pain.

  As he worked his fingers on her and in her, he watched her head fall back against the shower wall, her eyes closed, the eyelashes tipped with droplets, her red hair darkened and straightened by the water, her lips parted on her gasps. He felt a ripple of contraction inside her and stopped so he could grab the condom and roll it on.

  And then he made his vision real. He lifted and pushed her against the shower wall, her breasts crushed against his chest, her knees riding his hips, the water cascading down on top of them. He thrust up into her, hard and deep, savoring the way his name tore from her throat and her grip tightened on his shoulders. She was as wet inside as out, and he started to move in a rhythm that was nearly brutal. She panted and then went utterly still before her inner muscles clenched his cock like a fist, setting him off as she shouted and writhed against him while he pumped into her, the release coming from the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers to concentrate low in his gut.

  He kept his weight against her until her muscles ceased to ripple around him. Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, and she murmured, “Oh, Gavin,” on a long sigh. If he could have, he would have stayed there for hours as the water ran over them like a warm blanket. But he could feel the muscles in her legs trembling, so he slid out of her.

  While he helped her unhook her legs and ease her feet onto the shower floor, her arms remained firmly around his neck. He turned her face upward between his hands. “The water should turn to steam when it hits your skin, because you are scorching hot.” He licked a drop off her bottom lip.

  “That would make it hard to get clean.”

  “Oh, I like you much better dirty,” he said.

  She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly. “I’ll let you have the shower so you can get clean and go home to your famous friend.”

  Once again he rained silent curses down on Hugh.

  Allie toweled off and pulled on workout clothes while the water ran in the bathroom. As the stretchy fabric brushed her in intimate places, she felt a slight tenderness as well as little sparks of sensation. Since Troy had left, she hadn’t been touched by a man. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to glow with deep-down physical satisfaction.

  She picked up Pie. “I’m going to regret this in the long run, but right now, I feel so good.”

  The sound of the shower stopped, and after a few moments, Gavin walked out with one of her towels wrapped around
his hips so she could see the long, powerful muscles of his thighs flex as he moved. He scrubbed at his wet hair with another towel, making the rectus abdominis muscles slide under his skin.

  When he pulled the towel from his head, his dark hair was a mass of damp, rumpled waves. A few drops of water dotted his chest, and Allie wanted to lap them off. He looked magnificent.

  Allie hugged Pie too tightly, and the little cat mewed in protest. “Sorry, Miss Cat,” she said, releasing Pie onto the bed.

  Gavin watched with a faint smile as the cat sat down in the middle of his shirt, which Allie had retrieved from the floor and smoothed out on the quilt. “You have good taste, kitty,” he said. “That’s my favorite Armani.”

  When Allie reached for the cat, he waved her away and picked up his underwear and pants, pulling them on with fluid movements so that now she could admire the muscles in his back.

  Allie cleared her throat. “What time should I come tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” His fingers stilled on his belt buckle. “You’re coming tonight.”

  “I told you—”

  “That I needed to catch up with my friend. We can do that before dinner, at which your presence is required.”

  Allie folded her arms across her chest. “And how do you plan to introduce me?”

  “As Allie Nichols. How else?” He arched an eyebrow at her before he returned to dressing.

  “You know what I mean.”

  He lifted the cat off his shirt before he turned to her. “I do not have to explain myself or you to anyone else.”

  “Maybe you don’t, but I have to.”

  “Not to Hugh, and he’s the only guest tonight other than you.” He finished buttoning his shirt and took her by the elbows to pull her against him. “Come to dinner.” He kissed her, his lips warm and firm and persuasive.

  Somehow she resisted, knowing she needed some time and space to absorb Gavin’s sudden and intimate presence in her life.

  She angled her head back to break the kiss. “It’s better if I don’t.”

  “Better for whom?” He surprised her by doing nothing more than blowing out a long exhale and letting her go. He sat on the bed to put on his socks and loafers. The cat butted her head under his elbow, and he gave her a quick pat. “I’ll be back after Hugh goes to bed.”