The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3)

by Nancy Herkness

  “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?”

  The actor’s blue eyes blazed with anger. “What the hell is right! What the hell is going on with you? You tell me there’s no Julian Best book or movie in the works. I agree to be released from my contract and sign on for a different job . . . in freaking Russia, for God’s sake! And now some snot-nosed soaps actor tells the casting director he’s there to audition for the upcoming Julian Best film!”

  An answering anger ripped through Gavin. “There’s no film.”

  “Then why the blazes did a wannabe named Troy Nichols show up in Gail’s office, tossing your name around and declaring there’s going to be a movie? Not only that, it’s set at Christmas. That seems like more than a coincidence when you’re working on a holiday story right now.”

  Behind Gavin’s back, Allie gasped and jerked under the hand he was using to hold her there.

  Suddenly, all the things he thought he knew about Allie were smothered by a dark fog that rolled through him, clogging his lungs, blurring his thoughts, making his heart struggle to beat in his chest. Something seemed off-kilter, but he couldn’t figure it out as he suffocated under the sense of betrayal.

  He released Allie’s hand and stepped to the side, leaving her exposed to Hugh. “Any mention of ghostwriters?” he asked the enraged actor.

  Hugh nodded, his lips in a tight line. “You said you’d never allow it.”

  “Evidently, you chose to believe a—what was it?—snot-nosed soaps actor over your old friend,” Gavin said. As much as he wanted to see Allie’s reaction, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

  “Let’s just say that Nichols had a lot of details to back up his story. Greg believed him enough to send me out here to track you down.”

  “Greg has Jane’s number.” Gavin was grasping at straws, trying to stave off the inevitable conclusion that Allie had used him to help her ex-husband.

  “Jane stonewalled him. Told him she had no idea what he was talking about.”

  “Maybe because it’s all a pack of lies,” Gavin said.

  Hugh pulled his cell phone out of his tuxedo’s breast pocket and held it out to Gavin. “Tell Greg that.”

  “Did you perhaps not notice that we are at a party?” Gavin said. “I don’t make business calls when I am supposed to be enjoying myself.”

  He felt Allie slip her hand into the crook of his elbow and give it a gentle tug. “Why don’t you take a moment to reassure Hugh?” Allie said. “I’ll go find Chloe and Miranda.”

  When he glanced down, he found her face turned up to his, her expression a strange mix of anger, worry, and confusion. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded and lifted his arm to indicate she should remove her hand.

  She started to rise on her toes to kiss his cheek, but he shifted away. A stricken look darkened her eyes, and she hurried away across the sand without even acknowledging Hugh.

  “That was some ugly body language from you,” Hugh said, watching Allie leave. “Especially since not five minutes ago you were so engrossed in kissing her that I practically had to assault you to get your attention.”

  Gavin followed her exit, too, unable to tear his eyes away from the shimmer of her hair and the swirl of her gossamer skirt around her slender ankles. “Troy Nichols is her ex-husband.”

  “Their divorce must have been quite amicable, if she’s using her connection with you to help him.” Hugh’s fury had dropped to a simmer.

  Or it had been transmitted to Gavin. “She said not, but then she clearly lied to me.”

  “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Why not? You did.”

  Hugh lifted a hand in admonition. “Nichols had the whole story down, but it was the Christmas angle that convinced me. How could Nichols come up with that on his own?”

  A niggle of unease made Gavin frown. It had also been the Christmas theme that convinced him Allie was involved. She was the only person in the world besides Hugh who knew what he was working on now. But he’d forgotten that others knew about the abandoned holiday novella: Jane and his stepsister Ruth. Had he told anyone else?

  “Why would I suddenly turn J
ulian over to a ghostwriter?” Gavin asked to avoid his uncomfortable line of thought.

  “Desperation. Guilt. You haven’t been yourself in a long time,” Hugh said.

  The truth of that hit Gavin in the gut. He’d fallen into the black hole that always yawned inside him. Until Allie had leaned over the edge and offered him her hand to pull him up. But this proved once again he couldn’t depend on someone else to haul him out. Especially a woman.

  To think that he’d been doing his damnedest to convince Allie to come live with him.

  “You have brought me to my senses,” Gavin said. “And I feel the need to get drunk.”

  “You can’t do that at a charity ball. Too many reporters here.”

  “I’m not a movie star with an image to worry about,” Gavin said.

  Hugh sighed and laid his hand on Gavin’s arm. “Consider me your conscience, my friend. No drinking to excess.”

  But he needed to drown this sense of betrayal, to numb the slashing pain of it into oblivion, however temporary. “Try to stop me.”

  Chapter 28

  Tears blurred Allie’s vision as she hurried across the sand, her skirt clutched in her hands. Gavin hadn’t needed to utter a single word. She’d seen it in his face, in the involuntary movement of withdrawal when she’d tried to kiss him. He’d heard Troy’s name and assumed the worst. Although what he thought she had to gain by it was beyond her. In fact, she couldn’t figure out what Troy had to gain by stirring up false rumors, since Gavin swore there could be no movie without him. Why audition for a part that didn’t exist?

  She veered out of the tent, shuddering when her feet hit the icy sand and the frigid wind cut through her flimsy dress. Fumbling her cell phone out of her tiny evening purse, she dialed Troy’s number. His voice mail picked up, and she muttered a curse before saying, “Call me. Immediately.”

  The cold was so intense that her teeth clicked together as she shivered, and the tears streaking down her cheeks felt as though they were freezing.

  How could Gavin ask her to stay with him one minute and believe she had betrayed his trust the next?

  For a few joyful moments, she’d allowed herself to hope it might work out between them. She’d tried to point out the gulf between them, but her heart had cartwheeled in her chest when Gavin said he didn’t want to lose her. His lack of eloquence had convinced her he meant it. Although her good sense had asked, For how long?

  The answer had come so quickly that it stunned her.

  “Allie?” Miranda slipped out of the tent and wrapped her arms around herself. “You’ll catch your death out here. Come back inside and tell me what’s happened.”

  Allie wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, hoping she hadn’t smeared the professionally applied makeup. She knew Miranda would stay outside with her and freeze, too, so she turned back into the tent.

  Miranda led the way to an empty table far away from the glittering guests and sat Allie down. “How can I help?”

  Allie shook her head. “I just needed some fresh air.”

  “Calling that air fresh is like calling Everest a bump,” Miranda said, but her face was soft with concern. “I saw Gavin and Hugh Baker together. Did Hugh do something to upset you?”

  “Hugh just wanted to talk about a movie.” Allie’s phone buzzed. After checking the caller ID, she looked at Miranda. “I’m sorry, but this call is very important.”

  With obvious reluctance, Miranda stood, giving Allie’s free hand a quick squeeze of comfort before she walked away.

  Allie answered. “Troy, who told you there was going to be a Julian Best movie set at Christmastime?”

  “And hello to you, too, my dear ex-wife!” His voice was slurred, so he’d been drinking, and she could hear music and voices in the background. Not surprising on a Saturday night.

  “Troy! It wasn’t me, so who was it?”

  “I told you the last time. Irene Bartram did.”

  “You didn’t mention Christmas.” Maybe Gavin had told Irene about the Christmas novella when they were together.

  “Didn’t think it was important.” There was a short silence. “Why is it important?”

  “And Irene told you to audition for it?”

  “She set it up with the casting director, Gail something-or-other, who acted weird about the whole thing, to be honest. Kept asking me questions, kind of like you are. Where did I hear this? How did I know that? I didn’t want to get Irene in trouble, so I told her Gavin Miller had mentioned it to me when I was in New York. That shut Gail up.” Troy sounded pleased with the effect of his lie.

  “Do you know who I’m working for right now?”

  “How would I, considering you refuse to talk to me?”

  “Gavin Miller. He thinks I told you all that. And he’s really pissed off.” Angry tears tracked down Allie’s cheeks. “Now you’ve managed to get me fired from two jobs.” That wasn’t entirely fair, but she didn’t care right now.

  “Wow, that’s freaky, you working for Gavin Miller. So, what’s with his writer’s block?”

  Allie had stopped paying attention to Troy as she tried to work out why Irene Bartram had used Troy to stir up all this trouble. “What did Irene say about Gavin Miller?”

  “Well, you can tell that she’s pretty upset about the lack of another book, even though she’s sympathetic to his creative issues. All us artistic types have those problems sometimes.” Allie rolled her eyes when Troy paused for dramatic effect. “She said he just needs shaking up to snap out of it. Something about him hating the idea of ghostwriters.”

  So Irene believed threatening Gavin with ghostwriters would fix his writer’s block? “You and Irene are birds of a feather,” Allie said.

  “You think so?” Troy sounded pleased. “She’s been so helpful.”

  “Because she needed you for her little scheme.” Allie dropped her forehead onto her free hand. “Never mind. Go back to your friends. One thing, though: I wouldn’t count on getting a part in the Julian Best movie.”

  She ended the call as Troy started to sputter.

  It was amazing that even from three thousand miles away, Troy and Irene could create problems for Gavin and her. She should feel some sympathy for him because of that, she supposed.

  But she didn’t. He had believed her capable of betraying his trust. Even worse, to her ex-husband.

  Right after he’d tried to persuade her to stay with him.

  Troy was right: artistic types had problems. Big ones. And she was tired of dealing with them.

  She pasted a smile on her face, stood up, and waved to Miranda, who was chatting with another woman several yards away. Then Allie bolted for the exit, making a slight detour to avoid Luke Archer, whose blond head towered over most of the crowd. She jogged down the boardwalk, dodging arriving guests, as she called Jaros from her cell phone.

  “I’m not feeling well, but I don’t want to ruin Gavin’s night, so I’m just going to go home,” she said when the chauffeur answered. “Would you mind meeting me at the entrance?”

  “I will be there.”

  That was easier than she expected. Gavin had the ticket for her shoes, so she abandoned them, wincing as she stepped on the cold, sharp gravel when the Bentley purred up in front of her in the line of cars still ferrying guests to the party.

  She wrenched open the door before Jaros could make it around to her side of the car and threw herself onto the backseat. He peered in with a worried look before he closed the door.

  Enclosed in the warm, dark cocoon of luxury, Allie couldn’t fight off the anguish any longer. Great gulping sobs racked her body as her heart twisted in her chest. She was furious with Gavin, but the anger couldn’t dull the stabbing pain of knowing he didn’t care enough about her to trust her. A wave of misery threatened to break over her head and drown her in its cold, dark waters.

  “You all right, Ms. Allie?” Jaros’s voice came through the intercom. How much had he heard of her crying? “You sure Mr. Gavin want you to leave withou
t him?”

  Allie pressed her fist against her mouth in an effort to stifle her sobs. She breathed in and out a few times before she could speak. “He’s—” She gulped down another sob. “He’s a big donor, so he can’t leave.” She groped around for a better excuse. “He has to make a speech.”

  There was a short silence before Jaros said, “I get you home, and Ludmilla take care of you.”

  Allie flinched at the thought of facing Ludmilla. The housekeeper would know that she suffered from more than an upset stomach or a headache. She would just have to run straight for the master bedroom.

  Being rich had a lot of advantages, but Allie missed the privacy of her dinky little apartment where she could curl up with Pie on her lap and binge-watch bad movies while eating ice cream and crying to her heart’s content. God knew she’d done exactly that often enough during the end of her marriage.

  Of course, Gavin went to his fancy club when he wanted to drown his sorrows, so privacy must not be a priority for him.

  As the Bentley turned into Gavin’s long driveway, Allie forced herself to breathe slowly in and out while she formulated a plan. She would have to move fast, because Gavin was going to notice she was missing from the ball at some point. Maybe he wouldn’t care enough to want to confront her, but she couldn’t take that chance. She was still gluing herself back together after Troy had shattered her. If she had to face Gavin, the pieces might crack apart again.

  The car stopped under the portico, and Allie shoved open the door, clapping her hand over her mouth in a pretense of nausea so she could dash past the housekeeper standing at the front door and run up the sweeping staircase.

  Locking the bedroom door behind her, Allie breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Pie still curled up on the cashmere sweater Gavin had dropped on a chair. At least she wouldn’t have to search nine hundred rooms to find her cat.

  She stripped off her beautiful dress, laying it carefully on the bed. Unclasping the borrowed necklace and earrings, she arranged them and the ring on top of the dress so Gavin could find them easily. She gave a quavering laugh at the sight of her bare, sandy feet. “Just like Cinderella.”