The VIP Doubles Down
Page 59

Maybe he could bowl her over with his money. Letting his gaze roam around her bedroom, which was almost entirely filled by the bed and the treadmill, he wondered how he could leverage his wealth. She’d been impressed by his garage and car collection, but her admiration had held a tinge of amusement, as though these were just overpriced toys.
How right she was about that.
But money bought influence. His Allie wanted to work, and he could use his connections to find that for her. He winced as he remembered his phone conversation with Ben Cavill. The overwhelming need to keep her all to himself was going to haunt him, but the thought of her hands on another man’s skin made bile scald his throat.
He had to find a way to enchant her, to take her away from all the stresses and distractions of their real lives.
Southampton would be perfect. Only a few hardy year-round residents suffered through the steel-edged ocean wind of winter there. He could sweep Allie away there tomorrow, which would give them three days of solitude before his obligation at the Barefoot Ball. And that event would make her mouth drop open.
The decision made, he scooted down in the bed to see if the elusive oblivion of sleep would find him. His foot met a warm weight, provoking an annoyed meow. He lifted his head to see Pie give him an accusing look before the cat stalked up alongside Allie to settle on her pillow.
“And you’re coming, too,” Gavin muttered. “No matter how many times you throw up.”
 
 
Chapter 19
“I can’t go to Southampton,” Allie said, her fork clattering onto her plate.
“Pie is invited, too,” Gavin said. He’d left her sleeping while he went out and bought chocolate croissants at her favorite bakery, picked up a bouquet of peach-colored roses from a Korean grocery store, and made her an omelet. Only then had he brought up his plan to take her out of town for a few days.
“Oh.” He could see her casting around in her mind for another reason she couldn’t go.
“The change of scene will help with my writer’s block. I don’t want to be around Hugh right now.” That was true, at least. He didn’t want to see the pity—or caring or whatever Allie labeled it—in the actor’s eyes. Her face softened, and he knew he’d found the right leverage. “You can continue to work on the series bible out there.”
“How long would we be staying?”
“A few days. That’s one of the conveniences of being a writer. My work is infinitely portable. Unlike Trainor, who has to haul himself into an office every day.” He leaned forward. “Southampton is beautiful in the winter. The beach is empty and scoured clean by the wind, while the ocean is wild with spray lifting from its gray-green surface.”
“Like your eyes,” she said.
“My eyes?” He pulled back.
“I’ve always thought they looked like the winter ocean.” The little minx smiled. She was enjoying his discomfiture. “Except at certain times when they warm up quite a bit.”
“Any other of my body parts you’d care to comment on?”
“I adore your trapezius and your latissimus dorsi.”
God, he loved her sass. “You know what I adore about you?” He whispered a few very improper words, making her cheeks flush bright pink.
“My mama would wash your mouth out with soap,” she said, her eyes alight with laughter and a touch of sexual heat.
“I want to take you back to bed right now,” he said, his desire fanned by his own words.
“Nope, we have to finish breakfast and go to work,” she said, cutting off a piece of omelet.
“Not work. Pack.”
She chewed and swallowed. “You know that Pie throws up in the car.”
“That’s what paper towels are for.” He decided not to mention the helicopter just yet.
She gave him a dubious look. “It smells awful.”
“I spent a couple of summers working on a pig farm, so cat vomit won’t bother me.” He’d taken the job to escape from working at his father’s store . . . and nearly quit the first day when he had to clean out the pens. The stench had been almost unbearable. But he had gotten used to it and even came to like a couple of the pigs. After two summers there, his father had told the pig farmer he needed Gavin at the store full-time, and that had been the end of that small rebellion.
“You worked on a pig farm? Those places reek.”
“It got me out from under my father’s gimlet eye at Miller’s Feed and Dry Goods.”
She got that soft look again, as though she understood more than he had said.
He took a sip of coffee. “Bring warm clothes for Southampton. The sea wind can be bitter.”
He decided not to mention the charity gala he planned to take her to on Saturday. She didn’t need to bring anything for that because the dress was included with the price of admission, and it was a Barefoot Ball, so shoes were forbidden.
“I’ll come to Southampton,” she said. “But we work while we’re there.”
A wave of relief washed through him, easing muscles he hadn’t realized were tensed. “We’ll labor like proverbial dogs while Pie looks on with feline superiority.”
 
Allie dropped her sweater-stuffed duffel by the tote bag filled with cat supplies. Pulling the cat carrier out of her hall closet, she marched into the living room.
Gavin lounged on the sofa with Pie curled in his lap while he tapped out e-mails on his phone. He was in a surprisingly good mood, considering the crushing news from last night. Her theory was that getting her to agree to trek out to Southampton had soothed his bossy male ego.
She was not excited about the expedition. She winced every time she pictured Pie barfing on the Maserati’s hand-stitched leather seat. But she couldn’t afford to pay her neighbor to cat-sit.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, time to load up the cat.”
Gavin looked down at the little creature dead asleep on his black wool trousers. “Is it difficult?”
“Not this part.” Allie set the case down on the cushion beside him, unzipped the top, and stroked Pie to wake her up. The cat started, raising her head as Allie eased her off Gavin’s lap and into the case.
“She’s very cooperative,” Gavin said, his tone admiring.
Pie yowled.
“But vocal,” he added. “Shall I let Jaros know we’re ready?”