The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3)

by Nancy Herkness

  He put a big, warm hand on her bare thigh and gave her a hot, sexy smile. “Surely you can give me a massage. Lovers do that for each other without any training at all.”

  This was a man who was used to getting his way. “I’ll give you a massage every day that you work with another PT.”

  Exasperation banished the seduction from his face. “You are relentless, woman.”

  “It’s one of my best traits.”

  He scowled for a moment. Then the thunderclouds cleared from his eyes, and he squeezed her thigh. “Done. Now about that massage . . .”

  He hadn’t done any PT today, but when he slid his hand under her skirt, Allie decided to give him a pass on that.

  A couple of hours later, they lay in bed together, Allie on her back, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling, and Gavin on his stomach, with one arm wrapped over her waist.

  “That was a hell of a massage,” Gavin said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I think it cured every health problem I might have for the next ten years.”

  Allie traced the line of his brachioradialis muscle with her fingertip, a smile tugging at her lips. “You did as much . . . um . . . massaging as I did.”

  He snugged her closer to him. “Relax.”

  “If I got any more relaxed, I’d be a puddle.” Her body hummed with satisfaction.

  “I can smell thinking.”

  “Are you implying that my head is made of wood?” She put her thumb against a pressure point on his arm and pressed gently.

  “Ow!” He tightened his arm around her. “You shouldn’t use your anatomical training for evil.”

  “So what exactly will I be doing to earn my pay tomorrow?”

  Gavin rolled onto his back. “I knew you were thinking.” He turned his head to look at her, so close that she could see the separate rays of green and gray in his irises. “You’ll be assisting me. That’s what assistants do.”

  “Where will I be working? In your office? Along with you?” She shifted to her side and propped her head on her hand.

  He reached out to wind a strand of her hair around his fingers. “In my writing office, not my business office.”

  “You have two separate offices?”

  He released her hair and stacked the pillows so he could sit up against them. “I own the house next door. It has space for my business manager, my marketing manager, my bookkeeper, and my other assistants, as well as my security team.”

  Allie pushed herself upright beside him, grabbing at the sheet as it started to slip downward. Gavin was quicker, tugging it to her waist so he could drag his fingers along the swell of her breasts. She’d thought her nerves were fried, yet electricity zinged straight to her core, wringing a tiny gasp from her throat.

  She pulled his wrist away and tucked the sheet under her arms. “How many people work there?”

  “About ten, I guess.”

  “So you don’t need me.”

  The wicked little smile hovering around his lips vanished. “It depends on how you define need.” He flexed his neck to one side and then the other. “You’re going to help me write again.”

  Allie’s throat tightened with anxiety. “How?”

  “I don’t know.” He frowned at the wall. “But since we started talking about Julian, I’m getting fragments of ideas. Nothing I can hold on to, but more than I’ve gotten in months.”

  “So I’m supposed to just talk to you about Julian.”

  He levered himself away from the pillows to give her a heavy-lidded look. “Between other activities.”

  “That’s what I mean. We can’t do this while you’re paying me. You have to give me an actual job or I can’t accept your money.”

  He sighed. “You’ll be updating the series bible. We’ll talk about Julian while you’re doing it. I promise you that’s real work.” His voice deepened. “Once you’re off the clock, though, I can’t be responsible for what might happen.”

  She eased her grip on the wads of quilt she’d clenched while they talked about her job. This time when he tugged at the sheet, she threw it aside so his lean, gorgeous body was bared, too. That ended the discussion.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, Allie sat in a high-tech ergonomic chair at a sleek modern desk that had been installed in Gavin’s private office. She scrolled through the series bible, trying to figure out the best method for entering names, places, and events. She was determined to earn her pay by being the most thorough, meticulous assistant he’d ever had.

  “Where’s Gavin disappeared to?”

  The voice was weirdly familiar, and Allie spun around to see Julian Best stroll into the room.

  Her heart did a cartwheel in her chest. This was the man who’d starred in her adolescent dreams of dangerous, exotic romance.

  “You must be Allie.” Julian scanned her with his brilliant turquoise eyes.

  “You know who I am?” She rose out of her chair.

  “Gavin told me you’re working as his assistant. I’m Hugh Baker.” He walked forward with his hand extended.

  Hugh Baker, not Julian Best. “I know,” she said as she shook his hand. “I just had a moment of . . .” She wasn’t sure what to call it.

  He flashed that famous, sinful smile. “Of thinking I was Julian Best.” He shrugged with an offhand grace. “It’s one of the hazards of playing a cultural icon.”

  “I just wasn’t prepared, although I knew you were visiting Gavin.” She waved at her computer. “My excuse is that I was immersed in Julian’s world.” And Gavin had said the actor was starring in a public-service commercial, so she’d assumed he’d be filming by now.

  “My apologies for interrupting you. Ludmilla said Gavin might be here.”

  “He went to his business office next door for a conference call.”

  A frown drew Hugh’s brows downward. “I hope not with LA.”

  “I honestly don’t know.” It felt awkward to stand in front of her desk chair as she talked with a world-famous movie star. “Would you like to sit down to wait for him?” She gestured toward the sofa and chairs in front of the fireplace.

  He thought about it before he nodded. “I don’t have to be on set for another hour or so.” Sauntering to a wing chair, he sat and crossed his legs.

  Allie perched on the edge of the couch. Now that she had gotten past the shock of seeing Julian Best in the flesh, she had time to notice that he was wearing a blue button-down shirt and faded jeans. “Shall I ask Ludmilla for something to drink?” She wasn’t sure if she was hostess or employee, but she felt like she had to do something.

  “I just had breakfast, thank you.” He surveyed her again from under his slashing black eyebrows, making her feel like a beetle under a magnifying glass. It was a look Julian used on his adversaries.

  “Do you film in New York often?” Allie blurted out in desperation.

  His smile banished the nerve-racking examination. “Not often enough. Gavin and I used to see each other more when the movies were being shot regularly.” The smile evaporated. “He says you’re helping with his writer’s block.”

  “I’m not sure how.”

  “He’s counting on you heavily, so I hope you won’t let him down.” He wasn’t glowering at her any longer, but she heard the warning in his voice.

  “He told you that?”

  “When he speaks of you, there is hope in his voice. I haven’t heard that in a long time.”

  Allie squared her shoulders. Gratification warred with nerves. “I’m just updating the series bible.”

  Hugh leaned forward. “I’m not naive. Clearly, your relationship with Gavin goes beyond the office.”

  Allie felt the heat of a blush singe her cheeks. “I . . . er . . . I . . .”

  “That’s none of my business.” He held her gaze with his. “But do not betray his trust.”

  “How would I do that? Why would I do that?”

  “In answer to your first question, there are so many ways I can’t begin to count them. In answer
to your second, I cannot imagine a single reason.” Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Hugh sat back. “But too many women have found one.”

  Gavin muttered a curse under his breath when he saw Allie sitting across from Hugh. He’d wanted to be beside her with his arm firmly around her waist when she met the embodiment of her youthful fantasies. Then he noticed the rigid set of her shoulders and the flash of anger in her eyes. What the hell had Hugh done to provoke that redheaded temper?

  “Allie, I see you’ve met Julian . . . I mean, Hugh,” Gavin said, sauntering over to drop onto the couch beside her.

  “Bastard,” Hugh said without anger. “We’ve already been through that.”

  Gavin slid his arm around Allie’s waist. She stiffened and tried to draw away. He tightened his grip. “Hugh’s very discreet.”

  “Thank goodness, because you’re not,” his flame-haired imp snapped at him.

  Hugh smiled. “Give him what for, Allie.”

  Gavin watched as she wrestled with the problem of how to subtly remind him that they weren’t supposed to be lovers during working hours. Finally, she just took hold of his wrist and pulled it away from her hip. He let her scoot sideways to put two feet of space between them, since he had laid his claim to her in a clear and decisive way.

  He turned to Hugh, who was watching the byplay with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “I thought you were filming today.”

  “They don’t need me for another hour. Something about permits.”

  “So you decided to bother my hardworking assistant?”

  He heard Allie’s little huff of exasperation as she muttered, “You can’t have it both ways.”

  “I came looking for you,” Hugh said. “Who was your conference call with?”

  “A couple of foreign publishers.” Hugh looked relieved, while Gavin felt a spurt of irritation. “I can handle Greg and his cronies.”

  “But I’d be pissed off if they were pressuring you again,” Hugh said. He turned his gaze on Allie. “Greg’s the executive producer of the Julian Best movies.”

  Allie shifted on the sofa, and Gavin felt the weight of her concern. “I take back what I said about your discretion,” Gavin said, tossing a glare at his friend.

  “Allie understands your situation.” Hugh stood and gave her a smile with an odd edge. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Make sure he pays you for overtime.”

  As soon as Hugh left the room, Allie launched herself off the couch and stood with her hands on her hips. “You can’t do that when I’m working.”

  She looked delicious with her gray eyes sparking, her shoulders thrown back so the curves of her breasts were emphasized, and her fists highlighting the hourglass of her waist.

  “Gavin!”

  He pretended to be startled while he let the desire he was feeling show on his face. “What did you say? I was distracted. By you.”

  She made that huffing sound again and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll resign right now.”

  This time there was steel in her voice, and he felt the clutch of panic. He raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I might be observing the letter of my promise but not the spirit of it.”

  He kept underestimating her. She seemed so straightforward, with her slight twang and her no-nonsense sass. But the layers were there. He’d glimpsed them in her passionate, adventurous lovemaking and in the bread crumbs she’d dropped about her marriage.

  She nodded, her silky ponytail swinging with the movement. “Good. I have some questions about how you’d like things done in the bible.” She started toward her new desk.

  “Allie, what did you and Hugh talk about?”

  Color blossomed in her cheeks again, but he saw that it was from anger, not embarrassment. “You told him I was going to break your writer’s block, so he wished me luck. He figured out we’re personally involved, too.” She shook her head. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  “No!” Gavin sprang off the couch and nearly seized her by the shoulders before he remembered his promise. “I put you in an awkward position, but I”—was he willing to admit it?—“wanted to make sure Hugh knew you were off-limits.”

  Allie looked at him as though he’d told her he’d been abducted by aliens. “You thought Hugh Baker would be interested in me?”

  “And that you would be interested in him,” Gavin said through gritted teeth. “He is your romantic hero come to life. And although I don’t see it, I’ve been told he’s devastatingly handsome.”

  Her eyes flashed with delight. “He is, in a movie-star kind of way.” She came close and put her hand on his chest so she could look up into his face. “This won’t happen ever again, but I have to prove to you that when you walked into the room, I forgot Hugh Baker was here.”

  She rose on her toes and laid her soft lips against his as she slipped her arms around his neck. He couldn’t stop himself. He splayed his hands over her back and bottom to pull her against him so her pelvis was locked against his hardening cock.

  Her mouth opened under his as she gasped. He took advantage to find her tongue with his, stroking it slowly and with intent. He cupped the lush curve of her behind, flexing his fingers into the deliciously yielding flesh. His cock hardened more as he pictured her laid across his desk, her legs spread while he stood between them and plunged into the satiny heat between her thighs.

  She gave a little sigh and rocked her hips into him before sliding her hands down his shoulders to his chest and wedging her elbows between them. She levered herself away from his kiss. “We have to stop.”

  “I need more convincing that Hugh means nothing to you,” he said, bending in a last-ditch attempt to reclaim her lips.

  She leaned back to avoid him. “Time to be professional.”

  “Have you ever had sex on a desk?” he asked, running his hand up and down her back in a slow, seductive rhythm. “It’s the perfect height for me to push your thighs open and slide inside you with my tongue and then my cock. I’d start slow and stroke in and out until you begged me to go faster and harder. Then—”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “No more.” But her breathing was as ragged as his.

  He traced a circle on her palm with the tip of his tongue and felt a shudder run through her. If he could slide his finger inside her, he knew she’d be wet and ready. The thought made his erection tighten.

  “This isn’t going to work, the two of us alone here,” she rasped. “I’d better go to your business office.”

  He angled his head back to dislodge her hand. “You don’t want me to kiss you in front of the whole staff, do you?” He eased his hold on her, letting his hands skim over her tempting curves one last time before he stepped back. “Here’s my deal. I won’t touch you unless you touch me first. After all, you started it.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “So you think I have more willpower than you do?”

  “I think you have more scruples than I do.” He slanted a half smile at her. “Because I have none.”

  She lifted her chin. “Okay, now can we get some work done?”

  “Let me bring my chair over.”

  “I’ll do it. I don’t want you carrying anything heavy.” She took hold of his wrist to stop him.

  “It rolls, sweetheart. And I’ve recently carried you a few times without causing serious damage.” He savored her blush as he ran his free hand along her other arm, just to bother her. “By the way, you’re touching me.”

  She released him. “Not in that way.”

  He laughed and wheeled his chair over to her desk. Allie clicked around the series bible database, peppering him with questions about how he used the cross-referencing, how much information he needed about a character, and more.

  After forty-five minutes, he pushed his chair back and rolled his head around to stretch the tight muscles. He’d wanted to savor the warmth of her nearness, the faint floral shampoo scent of her red hair, the rustle of her cotton blouse as she moved her arm. Instead, he’d had to focus all hi
s mental powers on her queries and suggestions.

  “Leave me a few brain cells for writing,” he said.

  She fidgeted with the mouse. “Am I sucking out all your creativity?”

  “No, no. You’re just making all my assistants before you look bad.” His cell phone buzzed from the desk. He glanced at the caller ID to see it was Ben Cavill. Frowning, he picked up the phone. “Excuse me,” he said to Allie, standing and moving away so she could concentrate on the job she insisted on doing.

  He’d met Ben through Nathan and had signed on with his concierge medical service. The doctor had given him his annual physical a few months ago, declaring Gavin healthier than he’d expected of a man who spent too many hours sitting in front of a computer.

  “Did you mix up the test results and just discover I’m dying of a rare, incurable disease?” he asked the doctor in greeting.

  “Lord, deliver me from writers,” Ben said. “Too much imagination, which begets hypochondria.”

  “Well, you didn’t cure the one thing I asked you to.”

  “There’s no known medical remedy for writer’s block. I take it you haven’t made any progress on that front?”

  “A glimmer.” That was all he wanted to say about it. “If I’m not dying, what can I do for you?”

  “Tell me about your physical therapist, Allie Nichols. I have a client who needs one, so I thought I’d get your feedback on how your treatment is going. If you recommend her, I’ll put the two of them in touch.”

  A strange panic boiled up in Gavin’s throat. He didn’t want to share Allie with anyone else. He needed her to fan the faint embers of his creativity and warm the long, desolate hours of his sleepless nights. He stalled as he walked across the hall to the empty library. “When would your client want to start with her?”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  Gavin knew Allie needed the job. If she performed well, Ben would recommend her to other patients. “She’s knowledgeable and professional and has given me tremendous relief. There was noticeable progress in just a few days.” The panic reared up and howled, wrenching a self-preserving lie from him. “However, I know she’s booked solid for the next two weeks.”