Page 29 of The VIP Doubles Down
Anxiety wrapped its fingers around Allie’s throat. She picked up the cat and cradled her against her chest, soaking up the comfort of her purring. She turned Pie to face her. “If I don’t get another job soon, I may be dining on Chunky Tuna Feast along with you.”
Chapter 9
Gavin’s fitful sleep had been tormented by sordid, sweaty dreams featuring a slit-eyed, naked Irene beckoning him into a giant spiderweb, which annoyed him for being a terrible cliché. Even his subconscious lacked creativity these days. His waking hours had been unsettled by anticipation of the book signing he’d agreed to do that evening. He cursed as he pictured the endless line of fans stepping up to the table piled with two-year-old books and asking, “When’s the next Julian Best story coming out?” He wasn’t sure whether his nightmares were worse than his waking visions.
Allie’s arrival had been like a fall of fresh snow, clean and bracing. But even Allie’s magic fingers couldn’t release all the tension that the night had speared into his muscles and his mind, so he decided to cancel the Julian Best discussion part of their session. He couldn’t face the many troubles swirling around his super spy.
Yet he found himself reluctant to let Allie leave. Her cheerful presence was a powerful antidote to Irene’s poison and his looming public appearance.
“You look like something out of a Currier and Ives print,” he said as she pulled on a blue wool cap with a yellow pom-pom on top.
The little therapist smiled. “Better than a vision of hell by Hieronymus Bosch.” Her smile faded into a look of concern. “I hope you’ll try the water exercises I gave you. The warmth and buoyancy help relieve stress.”
Not once had she mentioned yesterday’s ugly scene with Irene, but she’d clearly noticed the increase in the tension in his back and shoulders. Even though he’d claimed that the pain level was no different, she’d prescribed additional treatments for him. He needed to remember that she was trained to judge discomfort in many ways, so she wouldn’t rely on his verbal answer alone. He said, “I’ll give it some thought.”
Much to his delight, exasperation flitted across her face for a split second. He loved provoking her into an unedited reaction. However, she said nothing as she picked up the equipment-loaded duffel bag that she wouldn’t let him carry because it was too heavy. When she started toward the door, he frowned. “How do you get to my house?”
“By subway.”
“So you carry your satchel of gold bricks for twelve blocks from the subway stop. Remind me never to get in a wrestling match with you.”
She turned to give him a full body scan that he felt almost as a touch. Heat streaked down to his groin before she shook her head. “You have more leverage, so I wouldn’t challenge you to wrestle.”
Now he couldn’t shed the image of his body and Allie’s interlocked on a floor mat, their skin glistening with sweat as they slipped and rubbed against each other. Pushing that stirring but misplaced picture away, he made a decision. “I want you to save your strength for my back, so I’m going to send a car to transport you to and from our sessions.”
“Send a car?”
“Yes, one of those things with four wheels and a driver.”
A look of temptation followed by regret flitted across her mobile face before she shook her head again. “I can make my own way, thanks.”
Irritation flashed through him. “Oh, for God’s sake, swallow your hillbilly pride or whatever it is. I have half a dozen cars at my beck and call. Might as well use them.”
She thought for another long moment, but this time he couldn’t read her expression. “Thank you. That would be pleasant.”
“Starting now.” He pulled out his phone and texted Jaros to bring the car to the front door.
She plunked her duffel bag down on the floor and huffed out a breath. “Are you being considerate or bossy?” Dismay made her eyes widen. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t gracious.”
Gavin grinned. He’d gotten her to sass him. “I’m being controlling. I told you that writers are like that.”
Instead of giving it back to him, she looked away, her mouth pressed into a flat line. He’d ruined the thing he needed from her today: her sunny good cheer. He cast around for a way to bring it back. “I have to do a book signing tonight,” he said. “I’d like you to come. You can stand behind me and dig your thumbs into my tense neck muscles every time someone asks when the next Julian Best book is coming out.”
She gave him a polite smile and said nothing.
“Well, will you join me?” he asked.
“Are you serious?” Astonishment rang in her voice.
“About you coming, yes. Not about massaging my neck.” The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of her presence. “It’s at seven at Murder Unlimited in Tribeca. There will be decent wine, which makes it marginally bearable.”
“Um, if I’m not going to massage your neck, why do you want me there?” She seemed baffled by his simple invitation.
“As a true fan, you deserve it. Wouldn’t you like a signed hardcover copy ofGood, Better, Best? It will be my gift to you.” That should bring the Allie he knew back.
Pleasure lit her eyes for a moment. Still, she hesitated before saying, “Um, why would your publisher set this up if there’s no new book? It seems sort of ...”
“Like rubbing salt in a wound?” He could hear the edge in his voice, so he worked to soften it. “It’s a joint signing with a first-time author my editor and agent are excited about. My presence is supposed to draw in more customers.”
