The VIP Doubles Down
Page 69
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She blinked several times at the tears burning behind her eyelids and slid her hand from his grasp. “Glad it felt good.”
“Anytime you touch me it feels good.”
The tears stung her eyes again. She returned to her own desk, swallowing against the clot of longing in her throat. She wanted him to feel more than just pleasure at her touch.
She opened the files and began to work, although every now and then she slid a surreptitious glance over her shoulder to see what Gavin was doing. First, he clicked through what she assumed were e-mails, tapping out a short burst before scrolling onward. Then he sat scowling at the screen. Either it was an annoying e-mail or he was trying to work on Julian.
She pulled her attention back to her computer and got engrossed in reconciling some timeline discrepancies. As she finished correcting the various days and times, she realized she was hearing steady typing emanating from Gavin’s direction. She sneaked a look and discovered he was gazing at the screen with fierce concentration but no frown. Angling her chair, she pretended to be searching through some paper notes while in reality, she watched him.
His fingers flew across the keyboard. She could tell he was hitting the backspace key a fair amount, but it didn’t slow his pace. There was no tension in his neck and shoulders, just alertness and focus. He leaned forward slightly in the ergonomic chair, with his legs bent and his feet flat on the ground. If she’d wanted to give a lesson in how to sit properly at a desk, she could use Gavin.
She was dying to ask him if he was working on the Christmas story, but she didn’t want to interrupt his spurt of productivity. So she returned to her own work. Soon the sound of Gavin’s rapid typing became soothing white noise just like the muted roar of the ocean. Out of the corner of her eye, Allie could see Pie curled up in a swath of sunlight that fell across the deep cushion of an armchair. Contentment wrapped around her like a warm down comforter, and she had to remind herself of the warning she’d given the cat earlier that morning.
The typing halted. She swiveled to see Gavin stretching luxuriously in his chair before he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it, as he scanned the screen in front of him.
“You’re a speed demon on the keyboard,” she said.
He didn’t respond, and she realized he was reading whatever was on the screen. He reached for the mouse and began scrolling. It must have been a full minute later when he swiveled toward her. “Did you say something?”
“Nope. Carry on.” She smiled.
“I know you spoke. I was just so engrossed in—” He stopped and slowly turned back to the screen to stare at it. “Jesus H. Christ, that’s eleven pages.” He stood up, his gaze still on the computer screen. “That’s eleven new pages. Of Julian.”
Allie wanted to cheer, but she decided to keep it low-key, as though his output was perfectly normal. “Are they good pages?”
When he turned, he looked as though he’d shed ten years. “Who the hell cares? I wrote them.” In three strides he was beside her, taking her shoulders and pulling her up to kiss her with more gratitude and relief than passion. He lifted his head, and his eyes were the green of the sea with sunlight filtering through it. “You! You did this.”
“I was just lucky enough to be here when it happened.” She didn’t want to be held responsible for his creativity. Nor did she want his overriding feeling toward her to be gratitude.
His grip did not ease. “You loosened something, so the knots came unraveled.”
“That’s what any good physical therapist would do.” She smiled and kissed him lightly.
Gavin scanned her face, his gaze so intent that she felt it like a touch, as though his fingers were skimming over her skin, drawing her thoughts to the surface for him to read. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re involved in this.”
Allie had a sudden thought. “Should you let Jane know that you’ve broken through your block?” That would stop any plans for ghostwriters and put her mind at rest about relaying Troy’s news.
“No. I want to keep the pressure off for a while.”
So he didn’t quite trust his muse yet. “You could ask her to keep it confidential.”
He paced back to his desk. “I would still feel the weight of her expectations.” He swiveled the chair back and forth a few times before he sat down and positioned his hands on the keyboard. “Back to the grindstone.” But he said it with a buoyancy that belied the words.
Now Allie had a new reason to worry about the potential ghostwriter. It would crush Gavin’s joy and might stop his writing if he found out about the prospect. She couldn’t bear to see him plunge back into his dark pit again. She needed to talk to Troy, to find out how definite the idea was.
“Mr. Gavin, Ms. Allie, is lunchtime.”
Allie jumped at the sound of Ludmilla’s voice coming from the doorway. She had gotten absorbed in one of her favorite Julian Best stories to distract herself from worrying about her dilemma.
Gavin continued to type, so Allie smiled at the housekeeper. “Thank you. Do we eat lunch in the dining room?”
“Wherever Mr. Gavin want to eat.” Ludmilla walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, as though she had done it many times. “You try to starve Ms. Allie?”
He nodded and kept typing. Ludmilla winked at Allie and stood waiting. Finally, Gavin reached for his mouse, clicked a couple of times, and leaned back in his chair. He grinned at Ludmilla. “What’s for lunch? I could eat a horse.”
“No horse meat, that’s for sure,” the housekeeper said. “Germaine make delicious soup with clams and crabs and mussels. And I bake delicious bread.”
They ate in the casual dining area off the kitchen at a small whitewashed table. Pie sat in one of the two empty chairs, her gaze fixed on the tureen of seafood chowder steaming in the center of the table. Gavin fished out a chunk of crabmeat and offered it to the cat.
“Leave me some fingers,” he said as the cat seized the crab and wolfed it down. He looked at Allie. “I thought she’d eat more delicately.”
“Don’t let her dainty looks fool you. She has a hearty appetite.” Pie put one paw on the table before Allie removed it. “No. You stay on the chair or you get shut out of the room.”
“You’re very stern.” Gavin fed Pie another piece of crab.
“Anytime you touch me it feels good.”
The tears stung her eyes again. She returned to her own desk, swallowing against the clot of longing in her throat. She wanted him to feel more than just pleasure at her touch.
She opened the files and began to work, although every now and then she slid a surreptitious glance over her shoulder to see what Gavin was doing. First, he clicked through what she assumed were e-mails, tapping out a short burst before scrolling onward. Then he sat scowling at the screen. Either it was an annoying e-mail or he was trying to work on Julian.
She pulled her attention back to her computer and got engrossed in reconciling some timeline discrepancies. As she finished correcting the various days and times, she realized she was hearing steady typing emanating from Gavin’s direction. She sneaked a look and discovered he was gazing at the screen with fierce concentration but no frown. Angling her chair, she pretended to be searching through some paper notes while in reality, she watched him.
His fingers flew across the keyboard. She could tell he was hitting the backspace key a fair amount, but it didn’t slow his pace. There was no tension in his neck and shoulders, just alertness and focus. He leaned forward slightly in the ergonomic chair, with his legs bent and his feet flat on the ground. If she’d wanted to give a lesson in how to sit properly at a desk, she could use Gavin.
She was dying to ask him if he was working on the Christmas story, but she didn’t want to interrupt his spurt of productivity. So she returned to her own work. Soon the sound of Gavin’s rapid typing became soothing white noise just like the muted roar of the ocean. Out of the corner of her eye, Allie could see Pie curled up in a swath of sunlight that fell across the deep cushion of an armchair. Contentment wrapped around her like a warm down comforter, and she had to remind herself of the warning she’d given the cat earlier that morning.
The typing halted. She swiveled to see Gavin stretching luxuriously in his chair before he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it, as he scanned the screen in front of him.
“You’re a speed demon on the keyboard,” she said.
He didn’t respond, and she realized he was reading whatever was on the screen. He reached for the mouse and began scrolling. It must have been a full minute later when he swiveled toward her. “Did you say something?”
“Nope. Carry on.” She smiled.
“I know you spoke. I was just so engrossed in—” He stopped and slowly turned back to the screen to stare at it. “Jesus H. Christ, that’s eleven pages.” He stood up, his gaze still on the computer screen. “That’s eleven new pages. Of Julian.”
Allie wanted to cheer, but she decided to keep it low-key, as though his output was perfectly normal. “Are they good pages?”
When he turned, he looked as though he’d shed ten years. “Who the hell cares? I wrote them.” In three strides he was beside her, taking her shoulders and pulling her up to kiss her with more gratitude and relief than passion. He lifted his head, and his eyes were the green of the sea with sunlight filtering through it. “You! You did this.”
“I was just lucky enough to be here when it happened.” She didn’t want to be held responsible for his creativity. Nor did she want his overriding feeling toward her to be gratitude.
His grip did not ease. “You loosened something, so the knots came unraveled.”
“That’s what any good physical therapist would do.” She smiled and kissed him lightly.
Gavin scanned her face, his gaze so intent that she felt it like a touch, as though his fingers were skimming over her skin, drawing her thoughts to the surface for him to read. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re involved in this.”
Allie had a sudden thought. “Should you let Jane know that you’ve broken through your block?” That would stop any plans for ghostwriters and put her mind at rest about relaying Troy’s news.
“No. I want to keep the pressure off for a while.”
So he didn’t quite trust his muse yet. “You could ask her to keep it confidential.”
He paced back to his desk. “I would still feel the weight of her expectations.” He swiveled the chair back and forth a few times before he sat down and positioned his hands on the keyboard. “Back to the grindstone.” But he said it with a buoyancy that belied the words.
Now Allie had a new reason to worry about the potential ghostwriter. It would crush Gavin’s joy and might stop his writing if he found out about the prospect. She couldn’t bear to see him plunge back into his dark pit again. She needed to talk to Troy, to find out how definite the idea was.
“Mr. Gavin, Ms. Allie, is lunchtime.”
Allie jumped at the sound of Ludmilla’s voice coming from the doorway. She had gotten absorbed in one of her favorite Julian Best stories to distract herself from worrying about her dilemma.
Gavin continued to type, so Allie smiled at the housekeeper. “Thank you. Do we eat lunch in the dining room?”
“Wherever Mr. Gavin want to eat.” Ludmilla walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, as though she had done it many times. “You try to starve Ms. Allie?”
He nodded and kept typing. Ludmilla winked at Allie and stood waiting. Finally, Gavin reached for his mouse, clicked a couple of times, and leaned back in his chair. He grinned at Ludmilla. “What’s for lunch? I could eat a horse.”
“No horse meat, that’s for sure,” the housekeeper said. “Germaine make delicious soup with clams and crabs and mussels. And I bake delicious bread.”
They ate in the casual dining area off the kitchen at a small whitewashed table. Pie sat in one of the two empty chairs, her gaze fixed on the tureen of seafood chowder steaming in the center of the table. Gavin fished out a chunk of crabmeat and offered it to the cat.
“Leave me some fingers,” he said as the cat seized the crab and wolfed it down. He looked at Allie. “I thought she’d eat more delicately.”
“Don’t let her dainty looks fool you. She has a hearty appetite.” Pie put one paw on the table before Allie removed it. “No. You stay on the chair or you get shut out of the room.”
“You’re very stern.” Gavin fed Pie another piece of crab.
