The VIP Doubles Down
Page 82

She followed his glance to see the front of her skirt rucked up to her waist, while her thighs were splayed open and her nude lace panties showed a damp spot. She tugged her skirt down. “I look like Cinderella in a porno flick.”
Gavin threw back his head and gave a full-throated laugh. “If it were a porno flick, your two stepsisters would be in the car with us.”
“Because for men, it’s all about quantity, not quality,” Allie said, smoothing the fabric over her knees.
“Precisely. I want to make love to you at least a dozen times a day.” He put his arm around her and pulled her against him.
She snuggled in with a happy purr. “You’d never get any writing done.”
“I’ll prop my laptop on the curve of your deliciously round bottom and type while we rest between bouts.”
“So I’ll be a sex toy and a desk.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Allie shook her head. Right now, her problems were glossed over by the rosy glow of the orgasm, as well as Chloe and Miranda’s conviction that she and Gavin could have a future together.
She was nervous, but also exhilarated. Instead of waiting, and wondering what was going to happen in the relationship, she was taking matters into her own hands. She’d spent so many of the years with Troy putting her own needs second. But enough people saw something special between Gavin and her that she believed them. So tonight she was going to tell Gavin how she felt about him.
It would take all her courage to open herself up, but she had discovered a deep well of compassion in Gavin. He knew what it was like to be rejected. Even if he didn’t feel the same way about her, she trusted him to be gentle.
She tilted her head back and found him gazing down at her, his face shadowed and unreadable. She smiled, hoping he could see the love in her eyes.
The moment was broken as the car glided to a stop in front of what looked like a large green-and-white-striped beach cabana. A tan young man dressed in a tight white T-shirt, white shorts, and sneakers leaped forward to open the Bentley’s door.
“You can check your shoes in the cabana, Mr. Miller,” he said with a dazzling smile as Gavin helped her climb out of the car with her dress intact. Although two large heaters were aimed at the entrance, the sharp sea wind raised goose bumps on Allie’s arms.
“That poor fellow must be freezing,” she murmured to Gavin as they passed into the entrance tent, which was toasty.
“Why do you think he’s so quick to get the car doors open?” Gavin said. “Lean on me so you can take your shoes off.”
Slipping out of her sparkly flip-flops didn’t require his assistance, but she put her hand on his forearm anyway, enjoying the feel of his muscle under the soft fabric. He toed off his boat shoes before bending to scoop up both pairs and hand them to the attendant.
“Enjoy the party, Mr. Miller,” the chipper young woman said.
Allie raised her eyebrows. “Does everyone know who you are?”
“It’s good customer relations to know your donors, and I come every year, since I have a house out here.” He tucked her hand into his elbow before they stepped onto the carpeted boardwalk running up and over the dunes. Striped canvas formed a roof over their heads, but the sides were clear plastic, so she could see the wildly flickering torches planted in the sand along the way. It gave the walkway a primitive South Seas–island feeling.
Several couples strolled along the walkway in front of them, with dresses and jewels glittering. The only discordant notes were the men’s naked feet under their elegant tuxes. She glanced downward to see her own bare toes with their pale pink polish flick out from under her floaty skirt as she walked, while Gavin’s strongly arched feet flexed as he strode along beside her.
A laugh of pure delight burbled up from her throat.
“What evoked that delicious sound?” Gavin asked.
“Whoever thought of making everyone take off their shoes was a genius. It’s so whimsical and . . . and playful.”
“Not adjectives I generally associate with charity galas.”
“Exactly,” Allie said. “It makes it unique.”
“I will pass your comments along to Elaine Vanderhoof, the moving force behind the ball. She will be pleased.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m sure she doesn’t care about my opinion.”
Gavin stopped and turned her toward him, his green eyes snapping with temper. “She cares about your opinion because I care about your opinion. And I care because you are a woman of extraordinary intelligence, strength, and character.”
Her heart danced in her chest, her love for this man playing the melody. She should tell him now, while he believed she was something special. She’d formulated a little speech as she dressed for the ball, but she hadn’t expected to use it so soon. Taking hold of his lapels, she looked up into his frowning face. “Gavin, I—”
“Excuse . . . Why, Gavin, how nice to see you!” An older couple, she tall and thin, he short and rotund, stopped with obvious pleasure.
“Peggy, Ernest. Hope you’re well.” Gavin leaned in to receive a genuine kiss on the cheek before he shook the gentleman’s hand.
He introduced Allie, and the four of them proceeded along the boardwalk together, the older couple asking Allie about her job and her home state, which they loved visiting. As they came to the end of the boardwalk, the couple saw someone else they knew and veered away.
“Brace yourself,” Gavin said. “Despite the heaters, the sand can be chilly.”
They stepped forward together onto the footprint-rumpled white sand. It was cool but soft under the soles of Allie’s feet, and she curled her toes into it. She noticed that Gavin, too, settled his feet with a sensual burrowing.
“It’s so decadent to walk barefoot on the beach in the middle of winter,” she said before she lifted her gaze and gasped.
The huge white tent curved above round tables that appeared to have trees made of sculpted driftwood growing out of their centers. The branches were hung with a myriad of gilded seashells and glass lanterns holding votive candles. More lanterns stood around the tree trunks on the sea green tablecloths, which were also strewn with golden glitter.
“It’s so beautiful!” Allie breathed.
“Much better than last year, when someone decided to put giant silver clamshells spitting out pearls on the tables,” Gavin said. “And I surmised that the shredded silver streamers dripping from the tent roof were meant to be seaweed.”