Gavin rushed in, circling and scanning the room. “Woman, I was about to kick in the door. I’ve been knocking and calling your cell for damn near ten minutes. Are you okay?” He came up to her, studying with anxious eyes.
“I overslept. My cell—” She looked around for her phone. “It’s in my purse.” She went over to the couch and pulled it out to find several missed calls and text messages from him. “I didn’t hear it. I’m sorry. I took a shower, then lay down. I was more tired than I realized. I’m so late.” She sprinted toward the bedroom, but then came to an abrupt halt, and pivoted on her bare insteps, facing him across the room. “Why are you wearing a tuxedo?”
“It’s opening night of the final stretch of your exhibit. We’re going to do it up in style.” He beamed. “I made a few calls. It’s a black-tie affair. Invitation only. We will have a select crowd, one with deep, deep pockets.”
Sienna frowned with quick mounting frustration and heightened anxiety. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” She stalked the distance to him, her gaze flickering over his clean-shaven features before taking note of that cool, confident grin. “You had no right arranging this without my approval. I had a load of followers on my Facebook page looking forward to this show. How dare you go and do something like this. Now I’ll likely have no one show up, and I’ll become a laughing—”
“I received fifty-three confirms, and twenty or so solid maybes,” he cut in.
She blinked, fists still balled tightly at her sides to keep from choking him. “What do you mean fifty-three confirms?” His grin was as inflexible as his confidence that this whole thing he’d concocted wouldn’t blow up in his . . . her face.
“You heard me correctly.” He came up to her. Gentle hands held her upper arms, unmoving at first, then his thumbs caressed, an astoundingly soothing touch. Her pulse catapulted, her breath catching in her throat. Her knees surprisingly weakened, but she fought against it. “Sie-Sie, relax.” Soft, compellingly soft was his tone. “Would you just trust me for once? As for your Facebook followers, they have tomorrow and the next day to visit the exhibit. I can guarantee what you’ll make off three, maybe four of your pieces tonight, will cover the next two days’ sales combined.”
Sienna’s temper dropped to a low simmer, and a warm shudder rushed through her that she hoped he hadn’t noticed. The feel of his strong hands finally upon her—even if it was merely through the sleeves of her thick cotton robe—sent a spiral of sensation rocketing throughout her body.
He’d never used her nickname, Sie—another first—but he’d added a little twist to it, Sie-Sie. She kind of liked it.
“That’s all well and good, but I didn’t pack anything that would come close to passing as formal attire.”
“No worries.” He went to the door and opened it. In walked a hotel attendant pushing a rack of gowns enveloped within heavy, clear plastic garment bags. He pressed folded cash into the man’s hand on a handshake, saw him out, and then turned to her. “I had him wait outside until I was sure you wouldn’t take off my head. I didn’t want the poor guy to get caught in the crossfire should your aim have been off.”
“The night’s still young, and I’m a good shot,” Sienna muttered, and he chuckled. She wanted to wipe that arrogant grin of his off with a kiss. What the hell? Her eyelids fluttered in stark surprise. Yet, instead of fighting against the feeling, she relaxed within the buffet of her emotions. Still, she narrowed her eyes to stake her position. “You shouldn’t have done any of this without consulting with me first. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Every chance you get, apparently,” he mocked under his breath, while dragging his fingers through his neatly combed hair. “You get dressed, and I’ll head downstairs. Guests will start arriving any minute. Enter through the kitchen. That way, you’ll slip in without being noticed.” Without another word, he turned, and strolled out of the suite.
If it wouldn’t affect her reviews, she’d not show up at all. Damn you, Gavin Crane. Stepping before the rack, she jerked the garment bags, sifting through the array of designer gowns that were all a size four. Think you know me, do you? Such an aggravating, arrogant, bossy, looks smoking hot in a tux . . . She unzipped the plastic and took from it a gorgeous, red, one-shoulder body hugging number with a slit high up the right thigh . . . Considerate man.
She carried the dress over to the full-length, tri-fold mirror, viewing it from all angles. “Oh yes.”
• • •
Gavin paced the kitchen, dodging waiters carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne-filled glasses. Cursing low, he checked his watch a third time. Twenty after five. How hard could it be to put on a dress?
He pulled out his cell and texted:
Where are you?
“Behind you.”
He spun around. The sight of her stalled the air in his lungs. Her smooth, flawless brown coloring against the red shimmery fabric, lips painted a rich ruby-red, short, dark hair slicked down at the sides and boldly spiked up top, the woman looked fierce—tall and lean with curves hitting in just the right places.
He’d always found her stunningly attractive, but damn, the look of her standing before him nearly buckled his knees. In that moment, she could have asked for the moon, and he would have called NASA to hitch a ride up to get it for her.
She held up her phone with his text displayed, then put it in her purse. With a shy smile, she ran a hand along the back of her hair. “The dress, what do you think? It’s not too much, is it?
I want to lick every inch of you.
Sticking his phone in his pocket, Gavin pushed aside the many images he had of them tangled together between cool sheets. “No, you’ll fit right in. Here . . . ” He reached to his left to retrieve the jewelry box on the table and opened it to show her the crushed diamond choker. “I figured whatever dress you chose, this would work.”
She gasped; her eyes stretched and stared at the jewels. “Gavin, they’re . . . ” Her awed gaze met his eyes, and she shook her head. “I-I can’t—”
“You have to look the part.” It was a birthday gift, but he couldn’t tell her that. He took the necklace from the box and circled behind her to fasten it around her neck. His fingers took liberties, the tips skating along her warm skin, gliding across the ridge of her collarbone. Soft as new spun silk. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the sweet floral fragrance of her perfume.
She looked over her shoulder, and their stares held as her delicate fingers brushed his at the angle of her shoulder. “Thank you.”
Gavin could have stood there staring at her forever, but her brows lifted, and she turned away, breaking his trance.
“Music? Why is there music playing?” She took a quick side-step to dodge a waiter carrying a well-prepared tray out the door. “Was that caviar?”
“It’s a party.”
“It’s not a party. It’s an art exhibit.” She strutted out of the kitchen, purpose in her steps.
He followed, yet allowed a generous gap to appreciate the way her hips and ass worked that dress. She pivoted into the small office and dropped her clutch purse into the desk drawer, then stepped out onto the gallery floor. Gavin came up beside her as she looked out at the crowd. Waiters circled the room, and guests mingled and perused her work.
“See. What did I tell you? A full house. As we are in Vegas, pun intended.” He looked into her fathomless dark eyes and smiled. Their gazes held. “Sie-Sie, I have your back. You just have to trust me.”
Her brows puckered with a look of confusion. “You did this,” slender fingers brushed along the jewels circling her throat, “all of this for me?” He nodded, and a slow smile brightened her exquisite features. She threw her arms around his neck and drew him into a tight breasts-to-chest embrace.
Gavin froze, completely caught off guard. He pinned himself in place, drawing on firm self-control as he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist and took in her warmth through the layers of fabric that impeded skin-on-skin contac
t. Within the tenderness of her hug, he relaxed into the warmth of her body, his hands subtly exploring the supple, lean angle of her back. Damn, she felt good in his arms, fitting perfectly along the length of his tall frame, as if she were created just for him. As swift and shocking as the hug came, she broke the connection and stepped back.
“Thank you for all of this, for everything.”
I want you. It was as plain as that. In that moment, he wished he was just a simple, regular guy. No demons, no secrets. He’d gambled and lost enough times to know that revealing things about himself, about his family, that murky side of his world, never went over well. “Like I said, I got you.”
“We better go mingle.” She smiled, excitement gleaming in her eyes as she sauntered off.
Gavin sighed. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Chapter Five
“We’ll make a quick stop in Silicon Valley, I’ll check in with the office, and then we’ll head back to D.C. together.” Gavin walked Sienna to her door. The tour was complete. Now they would go their separate ways. He wasn’t ready.
He held up her black spiky heels. “I believe these are for you.”
She took the shoes and slipped them on her feet, now nearly meeting him eye to eye, then leaned back against the door, eyes closing briefly on a sigh. It was approaching midnight. They’d gone out to dinner and celebrated the tour’s success over two bottles of Dom Perignon. No doubt she was exhausted. He, however, was wired as hell. Champagne always did that to him.
“What do you say, Sie-Sie, will you join me in California? We made a pretty good team these past weeks, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You do realize everyone usually calls me Sie.”
He grinned. “I’m not everyone.”
Her stare held his. “No, Mr. Crane, you’re definitely not like everyone else. Winning the contest was wonderful and exciting, but a bit scary, too. The tour, all of it, had been what I’d always dreamed of, but I never thought I’d get an opportunity like this. When you weren’t working on my last nerve,” a small smile brimmed her lips, “you made it all not so terrifying. Thank you for that.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’ve been exactly where I’ve wanted to be . . . here with you.” Her expression changed—forehead furrowed slightly before she looked away. Guarded. He realized his words expressed a fraction too much sentiment. He’d have to be more careful.
“So, will you come with me to Silicon Valley? A couple of days there, you could relax in one of the Grant Royal suites and get pampered, while I attend my meetings. The tour has been nonstop, no doubt you could use the break.” It was said casually to try to draw her back out from behind the steel guardrail she’d thrown up.
“There’s that magazine interview I have to do about how the tour went, remember? And I need to get started on my painting. If I don’t get on it soon, it’ll begin to pile up. We’ll connect in D.C. when you get back from California.” Turning away, she pulled out her keycard from her purse. Before she could swipe the lock, he caught her wrist, unable to stand being so close without touching her. Her eyes widened, then leveled, studying him as she backed away within the narrow space between him and the door.
“Sienna, I, uh.” Gavin didn’t know what he wanted to say. Or was it that he did know, but was too afraid of what her reaction would be?
It went against his nature, against who he was as an individual to not speak his mind, always voicing what he felt no matter what. She spoke her mind, took no prisoners as well. It was one of the many things he found appealing about her.
“You okay?” she asked with a quizzical stare as he firmly held her wrist.
He nodded. There was so much he wanted to say, but was pretty sure she wouldn’t want to hear it.
“I should head in.” She pulled her arm back to dislodge his hand, but he jerked her against his chest, not sure what possessed him to do it, he just knew he had to. It was now or never. His gaze didn’t waver from hers as he circled an arm at her waist, and a hand at her nape, holding her captive as his mouth crushed hers, tasting her for the first time. Sweet. So incredibly sweet, he had to fight back a whimper.
He arched into her, allowing the solid form of him to feel the long, lush contours of her, and could feel the tension in the full column of her frame, yet she didn’t pull away, not at first.
A whisper of his name was felt against his lips as her head angled, lips parting, allowing his tongue to explore deeper.
From their first embrace, he’d since drummed up images in his head of how she’d felt in his arms and imagined how she’d taste on his lips and how he’d greedily lap up every ounce of her.
Her hand slid down to his chest and pushed, drawing back with much effort. “Gavin,” she breathed, her eyes meeting his in full awareness. “I don’t think we . . . this—”
“I want you, Sienna.” Surprise flared in her eyes, then softened as he drew her to him once more, fingers snaking into her hair, feathering the short locks. Some days it was styled in spiky disarray on top and tamely smoothed down on the sides. Other days like today, it was arranged in cropped curly tresses that he relished in running his fingers through while savoring her unhurriedly, nibbling her lips as he rode the ebb and flow of her rapid breaths.
He dragged a hand down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, squeezing before gliding it underneath her dress as his mouth trailed a path down the delicate length of her neck, his tongue tasting her soft flesh, and then drawing back up, taking possession of her mouth, kissing greedily.
Again, his name breached her lips, but with more authority. She pushed away his exploring hand from between her legs and broke away from his fevered kiss, snatching short breaths, eyes wide, looking almost panicked. “Gavin,” she panted heavily, “stop.”
Her voice was a hoarse whisper at the outer corners of his passion-clouded mind, the soothing tone drugging. “You want me to stop?” Damn, how he didn’t want to stop, but he didn’t want to spook her any more than he had already. “Is it really what you want?” he asked, his breathing just as labored, the rawness of his need apparent.
She gave him a long look, then delivered a faint shake of her head before she grabbed hold of his shoulders and yanked him down to conquer her mouth, tongues dueling in a deliciously wet, open mouth assault. Aggressive and hungry, then slow and astoundingly tender. Her arms circled his neck and drew him in, kissing him with a startling thoroughness.
Pressing her back against the door, he rocked his hips, the jut of his erection stroking against her abdomen, while his hands took on an urgent exploration of her body, moving over firm breasts, slightly flared hips, and slender thighs.
Her hands met his chest once more, adding pressure, pushing until he drew back just enough to meet her gaze. “We,” catching quick breaths, “we should get out of the hall. My place or yours?”
Hell yes! Gavin thought of the condoms packed away in his shaving bag.
Kissing the side of her neck, trekking upward, his tongue rimmed her ear. “Both. We’ll start out at my place and end at yours.” He pulled his keycard from his pants pocket. A slip of paper came out with it and fluttered to the floor. Before he could grab it, she picked it up and studied it. Something flickered across her face, then she drew back and nodded, sucking her teeth. “Stacey Palmer. Which one was she?” Her expression went from desire to disgust in a hot second. “I have to hand it to you, you do put your time in.”
Gavin frowned over the grossly misunderstood intent. “You have it wrong.” He scratched across his forehead, trying to quickly think of something to say that would erase the scowl she sported. “I’d forgotten it was in my pocket. I had no intentions of calling her. I haven’t contacted any of the others,” he rushed out. Her frown wedged crater deep. Fuck, why did I say that? Her unforgiving glare had him flustered. “Look, let’s rewind.”
Tossing the paper at his chest, she came out of her rigid pose, took out her keycard from her purse, swiped it at the lock, and yanked down aggressively o
n the door handle. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass,” she said with take-no-shit certainty, strode in, and closed the door in his face.
Gavin stared blankly. He should have trashed the paper the moment the woman signed the damn sales slip. Talk about royally screwing himself over.
You idiot.
Chapter Six
Sienna’s finger hovered over the keypad of her phone. Had she been irrational about the woman? What guarantee did she have other than Gavin’s word that he hadn’t hooked up with her or any of the other women that she’d witnessed fawn over him?
She’d checked out of the hotel well before dawn to catch her flight without a word to him. It had been wrong of her to be so harsh, so cold toward him after everything he’d done for her over the past weeks. But something had flared and struck deep inside her at seeing that woman’s name and number. Jealousy. A huge coil of possessiveness had risen and punched her in the chest. Then to say there had been others as well . . . Though he claimed that he hadn’t been with any of them, all she had to go on was his word. Could she trust him?
She typed: We should talk about . . . Her thumb paused, hovered. Talk about what? Her mad exodus from Vegas like a thief in the night? Stacey? His kiss?
Damn you, Gavin Crane, for crossing over my emotional steely blockade.
But she’d allowed it, so who should she really blame?
To even consider getting involved with him was bordering on lunacy. The last thing she needed was drama, be it emotional or with all the quivering touchy-feely bits. Why did he have to complicate things with his kiss?
Oh, how the man could kiss. That hot, scorch-you-down-to-your-bones kiss, accompanied by the feel of that hard, protruding part of his body against her belly, it all carried with it a ton of unnecessary problems she could live without, thank you very much. But his kiss . . . Eyes shuttered, she licked her lips, remembering the delicious feel of his soft lips crushed to hers and the taste of his warm tongue that she’d greedily sucked on like a woman in heat. Heck, that was pretty spot-on. It was almost nine months without sex. Being enveloped in his tall, bold, blond presence over the past several weeks had been an excruciating feat for her.
Devil's Gamble Page 3
