The VIP Doubles Down
Page 74
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“Miller, I see you are about to make your escape,” Nathan said with a rueful gleam in his gray eyes. “Archer has already deserted me.”
“Allie still has to change into her street clothes, so why don’t you two go off to the bar?” Chloe said.
“We’ve been given our marching orders,” Nathan said, kissing his fiancée on the lips she eagerly turned up to his.
When the men walked off together, Allie was struck by the unconscious power they exuded. They were both dressed casually—Gavin in his jeans and black sweater, and Nathan in gray flannels and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up—but the air around them crackled with the sheer force of their presence.
“They’re pretty impressive guys, aren’t they?” Chloe asked, her eyes shining as she followed their progress.
Allie nodded, letting Chloe walk ahead before she murmured, “Too impressive.”
Chapter 24
Gavin hit “Save” and lifted his eyes from the computer screen to the ocean darkening from green to steel gray in the fading sunlight. Possibilities for the book’s next scene danced above the perpetual curl and collapse of the breakers.
Pivoting, he saw that Allie was engrossed in reading something on her computer, her red hair glowing in the light of the lamp beside her. Pie was stretched out on the top of the desk, her eyes mere slits, while Allie’s hand moved rhythmically over the cat’s fur.
He wanted to stop time at this moment, to freeze this tableau in a snow globe, but not with snow. It would have tiny golden glitter to evoke the sense of lightness within him. Something he could take out in the dark times, shake, and remember that there was another way to feel.
Guilt buzzed around his good mood like a fly. Nathan had reminded him that Ben Cavill would be at the ball. Gavin needed to confess his lie to Allie before Ben made him look even worse. She would have every right to be pissed off at him, and he had no defense except pure selfishness. He glanced at her again and decided to prolong the honeymoon a little longer.
To distract himself from his dilemma, Gavin clicked on his e-mail inbox. And wished he hadn’t. Ruth’s name jumped out at him, reminding him that he’d promised to look at her damned box again.
He growled.
“Gavin?” He loved the way Allie said his name, elongating the first syllable slightly.
He swiveled his chair toward her with a sense of relief. “Will you help me with something personal?” he asked.
“You know I will.”
He did, and it made all the difference in the world. He stood and walked over to her with his hand held out. She laid her palm against his so he could close his fingers around all that strength and gentleness.
She stood and searched his face with her clear gray eyes. “You look nervous,” she said. “What is it?”
“Pandora’s box.” He grimaced. “My stepsister Ruth sent it after my father died.”
“You’re afraid of what’s in it.” Her fingers curled more tightly around his. “I’ll look first and tell you.”
“It doesn’t involve severed heads, just books. My books.” He started toward the door. “I glanced at the top layer once, but Ruth seems to feel there’s something of significance there that I’m missing. So I promised her I would take another shot at the carton.”
“I’m flattered that you want me there.”
There was an odd note in her voice, one that unsettled him for a moment, but he was focused on doing his unpleasant duty, so he stored it away for later. “I’m using you as a crutch.”
“That’s a job I’m trained to do,” she said, confidence back in her voice. “I’ve held up bigger men than you.”
“I don’t want to know about your other men.”
Allie gave that funny little snort that meant he was being foolish, and she wasn’t going to bother to respond. He loved that about her, too.
Loved. The word stopped him for a moment. He used that word about Allie more and more. It was a figure of speech, but he understood the power of words. It was something to think about when he wasn’t facing the repellent task of rooting through Ruth’s box of bad memories.
They walked down the long hall to the room where he stored his papers. It held numerous built-in filing cabinets, a partners’ desk, and several comfortable chairs. The carton was still sitting on top of the desk where he’d left it, its cardboard flaps untaped but folded closed.
Seeing the box brought back the swirling misery of the weeks after his father’s death. His chest felt as though it would cave in under the weight.
“You sit down and I’ll unpack it,” Allie said, towing him over to one of the armchairs. After he dropped into the chair, she cupped her hands against his cheeks. “If it gets too bad, I’ll slam the top shut and keep all the hurt inside.” She kissed him, her lips so tender against his that he felt an easing of the weight, as though she had taken some of it onto herself.
Walking to the desk, she flipped open the flaps. Gavin shoved out of the chair and paced over to the window to stare at the dark sea.
“Is it all right if I unwrap one of the books?” Allie asked.
He pivoted and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. Allie stood holding a plastic-wrapped hardcover in her hand.
“Go ahead, but you won’t find anything. I wrapped the book myself before I sent it to him.”
“Do you really think he never opened it?” Allie’s voice was clogged with sadness as well as something sweeter. She put it on the desk and carefully peeled the tape up. “It’s been opened and resealed. I can see where the edge of the tape originally was.” She looked up at him with an excited smile. “He looked inside.”
He had believed for too long that his father hadn’t cared about his books. “Maybe to see what the price was.”
She slipped the plastic off the book and eased open the cover. It fell back against her palm. “The spine is broken,” she said. “He read it.”
Gavin flattened his hand against the windowsill as the room seemed to warp and bulge in strange ways. His father had acknowledged the receipt of each book with a terse “So you have another one out.” He’d never once asked about a plot point or mentioned a favorite scene or character.
Even worse, he’d never commented on the fact that Gavin had dedicated the first book to him. Which made Gavin feel pathetic, like a child trying to win his father’s approval. Of course, that was exactly what he had been doing.
“Allie still has to change into her street clothes, so why don’t you two go off to the bar?” Chloe said.
“We’ve been given our marching orders,” Nathan said, kissing his fiancée on the lips she eagerly turned up to his.
When the men walked off together, Allie was struck by the unconscious power they exuded. They were both dressed casually—Gavin in his jeans and black sweater, and Nathan in gray flannels and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up—but the air around them crackled with the sheer force of their presence.
“They’re pretty impressive guys, aren’t they?” Chloe asked, her eyes shining as she followed their progress.
Allie nodded, letting Chloe walk ahead before she murmured, “Too impressive.”
Chapter 24
Gavin hit “Save” and lifted his eyes from the computer screen to the ocean darkening from green to steel gray in the fading sunlight. Possibilities for the book’s next scene danced above the perpetual curl and collapse of the breakers.
Pivoting, he saw that Allie was engrossed in reading something on her computer, her red hair glowing in the light of the lamp beside her. Pie was stretched out on the top of the desk, her eyes mere slits, while Allie’s hand moved rhythmically over the cat’s fur.
He wanted to stop time at this moment, to freeze this tableau in a snow globe, but not with snow. It would have tiny golden glitter to evoke the sense of lightness within him. Something he could take out in the dark times, shake, and remember that there was another way to feel.
Guilt buzzed around his good mood like a fly. Nathan had reminded him that Ben Cavill would be at the ball. Gavin needed to confess his lie to Allie before Ben made him look even worse. She would have every right to be pissed off at him, and he had no defense except pure selfishness. He glanced at her again and decided to prolong the honeymoon a little longer.
To distract himself from his dilemma, Gavin clicked on his e-mail inbox. And wished he hadn’t. Ruth’s name jumped out at him, reminding him that he’d promised to look at her damned box again.
He growled.
“Gavin?” He loved the way Allie said his name, elongating the first syllable slightly.
He swiveled his chair toward her with a sense of relief. “Will you help me with something personal?” he asked.
“You know I will.”
He did, and it made all the difference in the world. He stood and walked over to her with his hand held out. She laid her palm against his so he could close his fingers around all that strength and gentleness.
She stood and searched his face with her clear gray eyes. “You look nervous,” she said. “What is it?”
“Pandora’s box.” He grimaced. “My stepsister Ruth sent it after my father died.”
“You’re afraid of what’s in it.” Her fingers curled more tightly around his. “I’ll look first and tell you.”
“It doesn’t involve severed heads, just books. My books.” He started toward the door. “I glanced at the top layer once, but Ruth seems to feel there’s something of significance there that I’m missing. So I promised her I would take another shot at the carton.”
“I’m flattered that you want me there.”
There was an odd note in her voice, one that unsettled him for a moment, but he was focused on doing his unpleasant duty, so he stored it away for later. “I’m using you as a crutch.”
“That’s a job I’m trained to do,” she said, confidence back in her voice. “I’ve held up bigger men than you.”
“I don’t want to know about your other men.”
Allie gave that funny little snort that meant he was being foolish, and she wasn’t going to bother to respond. He loved that about her, too.
Loved. The word stopped him for a moment. He used that word about Allie more and more. It was a figure of speech, but he understood the power of words. It was something to think about when he wasn’t facing the repellent task of rooting through Ruth’s box of bad memories.
They walked down the long hall to the room where he stored his papers. It held numerous built-in filing cabinets, a partners’ desk, and several comfortable chairs. The carton was still sitting on top of the desk where he’d left it, its cardboard flaps untaped but folded closed.
Seeing the box brought back the swirling misery of the weeks after his father’s death. His chest felt as though it would cave in under the weight.
“You sit down and I’ll unpack it,” Allie said, towing him over to one of the armchairs. After he dropped into the chair, she cupped her hands against his cheeks. “If it gets too bad, I’ll slam the top shut and keep all the hurt inside.” She kissed him, her lips so tender against his that he felt an easing of the weight, as though she had taken some of it onto herself.
Walking to the desk, she flipped open the flaps. Gavin shoved out of the chair and paced over to the window to stare at the dark sea.
“Is it all right if I unwrap one of the books?” Allie asked.
He pivoted and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. Allie stood holding a plastic-wrapped hardcover in her hand.
“Go ahead, but you won’t find anything. I wrapped the book myself before I sent it to him.”
“Do you really think he never opened it?” Allie’s voice was clogged with sadness as well as something sweeter. She put it on the desk and carefully peeled the tape up. “It’s been opened and resealed. I can see where the edge of the tape originally was.” She looked up at him with an excited smile. “He looked inside.”
He had believed for too long that his father hadn’t cared about his books. “Maybe to see what the price was.”
She slipped the plastic off the book and eased open the cover. It fell back against her palm. “The spine is broken,” she said. “He read it.”
Gavin flattened his hand against the windowsill as the room seemed to warp and bulge in strange ways. His father had acknowledged the receipt of each book with a terse “So you have another one out.” He’d never once asked about a plot point or mentioned a favorite scene or character.
Even worse, he’d never commented on the fact that Gavin had dedicated the first book to him. Which made Gavin feel pathetic, like a child trying to win his father’s approval. Of course, that was exactly what he had been doing.
