Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1) (3 page)

I can’t keep a grin from spreading over my face. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I just want to be sure you feel comfortable.”

“For one thing, it would be great if we could sit somewhere
you
feel comfortable, because you invited me,” I say cheerfully.

“Then let’s sit in a booth,” he decides, and tells the waiter, who guides us to one. It’s in a quiet corner of the busy hotel bar. No one is sitting near us; it’s fairly private. Gavin orders a bottle of wine and a glass of water.

“Pretty fancy here,” I say, still overwhelmed by the expensive interior design.

“It’s the Plaza, after all.”

“I don’t understand that. If you just want to be yourself, why do you book a suite in the most expensive hotel in New York?” I ask.

“Because . . . Actually, I didn’t book the suite. My manager did.” Gavin laughs quietly. “He organized everything for my part on
CDH
.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. I’m still so far away from having a manager myself.”

“Are you? I thought all dancers had managers.”

“I don’t need one, because I’m not particularly famous.”

He takes his cell phone out of his sweatshirt pocket. “Should we see how famous Madeleine Dubois is?”

When Gavin says my name like that, I get a tingle between my legs. No man has made me feel like that before.

I hope he doesn’t see my Facebook page,
I think desperately. Ever since my first appearance on
CDH
, a whole horde of haters have decided it’s fun to make nasty comments on my posts. That’s why I haven’t posted anything for weeks. I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t care about the 57,939 likes, because at least 15,000 of those come from people who can’t stand me and want to let me know it. I don’t understand why they’ve subscribed to my page if they hate me so much. My private profile is set to friends only, and my timeline can only be commented on by my real friends.

“On Google there are a lot of results,” he says. “And some darn nice pictures, too.”

“Most of them are from the competitions I won with Jonah.”

“Is Jonah your boyfriend?”

“Not really,” I say, trying to evade the question.

“What does that mean? Can you have a boyfriend who isn’t really your boyfriend?” he says with a laugh.

“Well, we were together, but we aren’t anymore.”

“Ouch. And you still dance with him?”

I nod. “Yeah. We’ve always kept our professional and private lives separate, anyway. Besides, it’s really difficult to find a dance partner that fits.”

“It’s also not easy to find good backup dancers and singers, either,” he tells me.

“Do you need backup dancers and singers?”

“Sometimes. In the big shows, it helps to have a lot of dancers around.”

“And what about the singers?” I ask.

“When we sing our solos, it’s really nice to have backup singers other than guys in the band. At least, I like it. Otherwise, all the fans keep screaming for Linden or Alexis. They’re the ones all the tweens have crushes on.”

I look at him quizzically. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t a tween heartthrob.”

“I’ve got fans, too, but Linden’s and Alexis’s scream the loudest. Actually, that’s an advantage, because I’m not chased as much as they are.” The drinks arrive, and the waiter pours us each a glass of water and a glass of wine. Gavin thanks him without taking his eyes off me.

“I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.”

“I’m very glad that I’m wearing dance shoes at the moment.” He grins and raises his glass. “To a wonderful evening.”

“Cheers,” I say as he carefully clinks his glass against mine. After the first sip of wine, his gaze keeps sticking to me like it’s a damn Post-it note. The tingling that it creates in my whole body is extremely pleasant, but somehow it makes me feel insecure, too. I take another swallow and push the wine glass aside. It will probably turn out to be a big mistake, because I don’t have any tolerance for alcohol. After one glass I’m usually so drunk that I can’t ride my bike home in a straight line.

Gavin rests his chin in his hand and looks me over. “At the risk of sounding completely ridiculous, you’re a beautiful girl, Madeleine.”

The blood shoots to my cheeks like glowing hot lava through my wine-dilated capillaries. “Uh . . . Thanks, Gavin.”

The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, and then he smiles. “What do you do in your free time?”

“Well, I like to dance in my free time, or do sports. A friend of mine sings in musicals, and I like to see her shows. So I keep pretty busy when I’m not practicing. What about you? What do you do in your free time?”

“Free what?” he asks.

I laugh softly.

“It’s so rare that when I do have some, I go on dates with dance teachers, or I chill on the sofa and read or watch TV. The main point is to spend it at home or undisturbed in a hotel room,” he tells me.

“You’re in hotel rooms more often than you’re at home, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been home for ages. I stay in a house in the Hamptons with the guys from the band. We have a recording studio there, and a gym . . . But I haven’t been back to Orlando in ages.”

“You’re from Florida?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Yup.”

“What’s it like there? Is it true that the sun shines all year?”

“It rains sometimes, too, but it’s usually warm.”

“It must be beautiful.”

“Very. Sometimes I really get homesick, and it gets me down. Then I wish I was in the house where I grew up, sitting on the comfy sofa by the fireplace, where there’s almost never a fire because it’s Florida,” he says, lost in the thought.

I frown, because the way he describes sitting in front of the fireplace is exactly the way I imagine my perfect free evening.

“Sounds corny, doesn’t it?”

I shake my head. “Definitely not. It sounds like an ideal way to relax. Except I could only sit in front of the fireplace at my parents’ house, because I don’t have one in my apartment.”

“So why don’t you still live with your parents?” he asks.

“Because otherwise I would have a very long drive every day, and my car wouldn’t manage it. It’s an old scrap heap,” I say, laughing.

“Where do they live?”

“In the Hamptons.”

Gavin’s deep-green eyes with gold flecks start to shine. I think I could lose myself in them. “Then you aren’t so far away from me.”

“That’s true, but I’m not there very often.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m either practicing or working. I’d hoped to get a part in the dance show, but since that didn’t work out, I have to look for a summer job so I can pay my rent,” I explain a little more quietly, because it makes me uncomfortable to admit it.

“Why weren’t you asked to be on the show again?”

“No idea. Really none. Sometimes they like to exchange the dancers to bring in a little variety. I’m a stand-in, and I’m in the ensemble for the opening show.”

“So if someone gets sick or hurt, you would take over?” he asks.

“Yes, but they’re all so professional, it almost never happens. I guess I’ll probably just dance in the ensemble this year, but that’s not so bad. And directly after the show there are two contests I have to dance in.”

Gavin looks thoughtful. He just nods and looks at his wine. “I’d prefer to dance with you instead of Julie.”

“How about if you dance with me every time we meet, if you aren’t too sore from practicing?” I suggest.
Oh, God, what’s gotten into me?
my conscience complains. It must be the wine talking. I’m not usually so direct.

“I’ll take you up on it. When we danced it was a lot of fun and didn’t seem as forced as it does with Julie,” he says with a sigh. “Is it easy to tell that I don’t like her?”

I grin at him mischievously. “A little.”

“Dammit!” he blurts out, and takes a swallow of his wine.

I do the same, except I empty my glass.

“Thirsty?” Gavin asks with an eyebrow raised.

“You could say so,” I respond, holding a hand in front of my mouth to keep myself from burping out loud. Why does wine make me burp? I think I’m the only person in the world who can bellow like a moose after drinking noncarbonated drinks.

He refills my glass, and I watch with wide eyes. If I drink this one, I won’t even be able to ride my bike home. “You can take a taxi home, and I’ll bring you your bike tomorrow,” he says, as though he was reading my mind.

I look into his eyes. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

He refills his own glass, too, but he doesn’t drink from it. “You should write down your address for me.”

“I’ll probably be at the dance school tomorrow afternoon. You can bring it there.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow, too, all day. I’ll come see you, and give it to you when you’re done. Is that a deal?”

“Yeah.” I smile. The alcohol is making me feel unusually warm. I’m starting to sweat, so I take off my jacket and put it on the bench next to me. I feel Gavin’s eyes on me again, and I look at him questioningly.

He clears his throat when he realizes he’s staring. “Sorry.”

“For?” I have no idea why he’s apologizing. When he looks at me that way, it gives me back a lot of the self-confidence that I lost during the shit-storm that followed my breakup with Jonah. At the moment, male attention does me good. I realize that now, but I still don’t want to tie myself down again so soon. The best thing I could do would be what Macey suggested, to enjoy my newly single life, complete with commitment-free sex.
Sex with Gavin must be fantastic,
I allow myself to think, and feel caught out when he rewards me with an incredibly sexy glance. My chest tightens as he puts his hand on my knee.

“For staring at you.” Then he removes his hand, but it leaves a tingling feeling on my skin where he touched me.

I have absolutely no idea what I should say, because all my senses are filled with him. I bite my lower lip and look around the bar. “Is it always so crowded here?” That’s such a fast change of subject it could cause whiplash, but it was the only thing I could think of to say. Dammit!

“I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” I say, and glance at my glass. “Should I really drink this?” If I drink it, he’ll definitely have to carry me to the taxi. I sigh and pick it up. “Is it true that famous singers aren’t allowed to have girlfriends?” I say, trying to change the subject again.

Gavin looks at me like I just hit him with a baseball bat. “What do you mean?”

“Is it true that guys in bands aren’t allowed to have girlfriends? I mean, you always hear they think it’s important to give the fans the feeling they’re available.” I look at him curiously.

The sudden silence tells me he doesn’t know how to respond to my question. “Well, we originally had that clause in our contracts, but it’s been declared invalid since then. Linden has had a girlfriend for a while now, and before that he was engaged. That was publicly known, so it was totally crazy anyway to demand celibacy from us. By the way . . . I’m single, in case that’s what you were trying to find out.” He barely finishes speaking before he gives me a glowing smile. It would probably really glow in black light; I’m 100 percent sure his teeth are bleached.

“Actually, I just wanted to know if the rumor was true.”

“It’s true. Friends of mine who also play in a band have to pretend they’re single, even though there’s a couple in the group.”

“Hmm. Pity for your friends. I wouldn’t want to have to keep it a secret if I was going out with a pop star. For me that would have nothing to do with his VIP status, but with him as a person.”

“There should be more women like you.”

I shrug my shoulders as I put down my half-empty glass. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

“I’m going to recover from a rough week, kick back, and relax. Why do you ask?”

“Just . . . I have tickets for the opening night of a show that my best friend is in, and I don’t know who to ask. I thought a little distraction from dance practice would do you good.”

“Your friend, the Broadway star?”

“Yeah. She’s playing Belle in
Beauty and the Beast
. But if you don’t want to go, I’ll ask Jake or another friend.”

“Did you just ask me on a date?” he says with amusement.

I shrug and take a moment to think about my answer. “A date would be eating by candlelight in a nice restaurant and getting to know each other.”

Gavin takes a lighter out of the pocket of his sweatshirt and lights the candle on the table. “Then this is our first date, and tomorrow evening will be the second.”

I blush again. Dammit! This cruel, traitorous body of mine is always giving me away! “OK.”

“You blush a lot.”

“I have to be sure that my cheeks are getting good circulation, don’t I?” I joke. He laughs. What I know of him, I really like. Gavin seems very nice and is definitely not aloof. Of course, that could be because there’s no one around that knows him. He obviously doesn’t feel like he has to put on a show.

Chapter 3

When I wake up the next morning, I can’t believe my eyes. I’m not in my own bed, and not even in my own room. I raise my throbbing head and realize I’m wearing a Ramones T-shirt that’s way too big for me.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

I make a face. “Good morning,” I moan.

Gavin hands me a glass of water and an aspirin. “After all that wine, I’m sure you can use this.”

I accept gratefully. “Yeah, thanks.” After I wash the aspirin down with half of the water I put the glass on the bedside table. “Why am I still here?”

“Because after the second glass you got totally sloshed. You couldn’t even talk straight, let alone walk, so I didn’t want to just put you in a taxi. I decided to let you stay the night here,” he answers as he sits on the edge of the bed.

I rub my eyes. “I hope I didn’t say anything to embarrass myself.”

“Not really. Children and drunks almost always tell the truth, and you let me in on a few details.” He grins. It feels like there’s a jackhammer pounding in my head.

“What did I say?”

“At some point you started to cry and told me you were unhappy with your life.”

Shit! I definitely shouldn’t have had that second glass.
After the moment I joked about blushing, I have absolutely no memory. I obviously blacked out at exactly the point where the evening got really interesting. What a drag.

“You said something about haters, and you showed me your Facebook page. I couldn’t help writing a few nice comments under your posts and photos so those idiots weren’t the only ones taking up space.” He strokes my cheek with his finger. “I’m really sorry that they attacked you like that.”

“There are worse things,” I say. “Like my headache.” My voice sounds like I’m suffering. I am, and how. I hate it when I don’t stop myself and just keep drinking. I should have drunk the water instead; that would have been a lot smarter.

“And you’re wearing that shirt because I didn’t want to put you in bed in your clothes. Not that you threw up on yourself or anything, but I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

“Thanks.” I put my hand on his to take it off my cheek, but then he suddenly bends closer and kisses me. At the first second, I’m completely shocked, but then I find myself returning his kiss. As our lips touch tentatively, he puts one hand on my back. With the other, he pushes me slowly backward onto the mattress so I have to arch my spine to keep from pinning his hand under me. Then his hand starts exploring. It glides down over my breasts to the bottom of my shirt, and slips underneath. I gasp as his cold fingers brush against my side.

And then, just as suddenly as he started, he stops. Gavin pulls back from me and looks at me again. “Sorry . . . I have no idea what got into me. I’ll go take a cold shower.” Then he jumps up and goes into the bathroom without giving me a chance to tell him that everything’s OK.

He thinks I’m ugly
is the first thing that runs through my mind. Despite feeling like I was run over by a truck last night, I manage to get up and look for my clothes, which I find lying on a chair. I pull them on over the T-shirt, in too much of a rush to bother taking it off. I have to get out of here. I have to go home and check if there’s anything on the dance school schedule today, anyway. I hear the shower starting as I leave the bedroom. There’s a notepad and pen on the dining table, so I write Gavin a note:

Thanks for letting me stay the night! It would be nice if you could bring my bike to the dance school, and please tell Jake he should put it in the garage if I don’t have a class today. See you! Lane.

I take a taxi home.

“Oh, God, you’re finally here!” Macey cries. “Where have you been?”

I narrow my eyes. “I was having fun . . . with some wine.” I head for my room.

“And a guy?”

“Not really. I stayed the night with a guy, but nothing happened.”

“What?” she says, confused. “I thought when you stay the night with a guy, it’s because something happened.”

“I have no idea if anything happened, because I drank so much I can’t remember anything,” I say as I do a belly flop onto my bed. My face hits the pillow, and I feel like dying. At least then I wouldn’t be embarrassed anymore by what happened yesterday evening. Mostly I want to forget the disaster after the kiss.

“How much did you drink, anyway, you little lush?” Macey asks with a laugh.

“Very funny. You know I can’t handle much. It was only two glasses of wine.” I moan as I raise my head. Her damn laughter is even worse than Gavin’s grin.

She sits on the bed next to me. “Who were you out with?”

“With the dancer,” I say.

“Which dancer was that?”

“That guy that Julie is dancing with on
Celebrity Dance Hall
. Gavin McLeod.”

“Wait, stop! Do you mean Gavin McLeod from Downstair Alley?” she asks, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“At Jake’s dance school. He’s practicing there. He came to my class yesterday, and invited me out for a drink afterward, which became two drinks. I’d love to know what I said to him when I was three sheets to the wind.” I sigh, feeling a little desperate. If I knew what I’d said, the whole thing wouldn’t be half as bad.

“You probably got all sentimental about Brooke or Jonah,” she says, thinking out loud.

Brooke was my best friend; she killed herself three months ago. She was a victim of cyberbullying—personal attacks and actual threats—just because she started a relationship with one of the contestants on the last season of
CDH
. It’s true, he was pretty hot, but he was also a total bastard, the way he treated her once he started to get tired of her. The press had an awful photo of her that they loved to ridicule, and the guy’s fans gleefully piled on top. They constantly humiliated her. I tried to be there for her, but at some point she stopped communicating, until one day I found her suicide letter in my mailbox. It arrived the morning she was found dead in her apartment. She’d cut her femoral arteries in the bathtub, and her wrists, too, so she’d bled to death very quickly. At her funeral, they’d put makeup on her wrists to cover the wounds.

“That’s possible.” I shake my head to rid it of the memory of her lifeless body in the coffin. Her death threw me into a deep pit of depression. With difficulty, Jonah managed to pull me out of it, only to push me back in two weeks later. Remembering Brooke makes my eyes fill with tears. “I miss her.”

“I know. I miss her, too,” Macey says softly and cuddles against me. “But back to the subject of Gavin McLeod . . . Why aren’t you more excited?”

“Because he totally blew me off.”

“What?”

“He kissed me, and it started to get really intense, until he suddenly let go of me and said he had to go take a cold shower,” I tell her, humiliation heating my cheeks.

“And, knowing you, you ran off while he was in the bathroom without waiting for an explanation, didn’t you?”

I nod sheepishly.

“Lane!”

“What? I was embarrassed that I woke up in his bed, and then discovered that I’d been overly emotional, and we kissed. I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

“He was probably a lot more uncomfortable when he came out of the shower and you were gone,” she says observantly. “Does he have your number, at least?”

I groan and blow a lock of hair off my forehead. “No. He just has my damn bicycle.”

She laughs again. “Did he steal it, or what?”

“No. He put it in his car yesterday when we went to his hotel, and said he’d bring it to the dance school today. I left a note for him, to ask if he’d tell Jake to put it in the garage if I don’t have a class today.” As soon as I say it in a small voice, I know she’s going to try to convince me to go to Jake’s.

“Doesn’t he want to go with you to the show tonight?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

She looks at me questioningly and raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Well, I asked him yesterday, and he wanted to, but after this morning, I doubt he does.”

Macey clicks her tongue and looks at me like I’m a little kid who’s trying to put a square peg in a round hole. “The guy kissed you, even though you have killer morning breath. You should brush your teeth and get to Jake’s so you can invite him again.”

“I doubt he’ll want to go after practicing with Julie all day. He’ll be exhausted. Besides, the timing is a bit tight. I definitely don’t want to be late for the show.”

She stands up and goes to the door. “Good, then I’ll call Jake now and tell him to make sure he throws Julie out by six so you can come to the show with Gavin. Do you think I can bribe him with free tickets?”

I shrug. “Can I multiply loaves and fishes? I have no idea, Macey.” Then I suddenly realize what she said and sit up, which sets my head spinning. “You’re joking, aren’t you? You wouldn’t do that.”

She grins, shrugs, and leaves the room, calling back, “Who knows what I’m capable of?” with a wicked laugh.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of!” I shout as I jump up. Now my head feels like it’s about to fall off. “Macey, please don’t! That would just make me more embarrassed.” As I enter her room, I see she’s already on the phone. My eyes go wide, and
I hope Gavin won’t be too offended.

“Yes, Jake . . . Come on, please . . . I can’t organize that many comp tickets, two at the most . . . OK. Thanks.” She smiles coyly. “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight . . . Sure, Madeleine will be there, too. Does she have any classes today, by the way? . . . No? That’s great. And you’ll give Gavin the info? . . . OK, cool. See you tonight, then . . . You, too . . . Bye, Jake.”

My stomach suddenly leaps with nausea, and I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. I sit on her sofa bed and put my head between my knees, gasping for air.

“Are you all right?” Macey asks, looking at me with concern.

“I . . . You just . . . Are you nuts?” I ask desperately.

“Not that I know of, but we can try to figure that out tomorrow. Today we have to make sure you look great at the show.”

“Did you really ask Jake to tell Gavin?” I’m still breathing deeply to keep my head from spinning too hard.

She nods, her curls bouncing around her face. It looks like they’re caressing her cheeks. “I asked him to give Gavin our address so he can pick you up at seven.”

“I have no idea what to wear!” I groan, and lean back onto the couch. My heart is hammering in my chest.

Macey goes to her closet and pulls out a few dresses. Fortunately, we’re almost exactly the same size and shape, although her style is completely different than mine. Sexier. “We’ll find just the right thing for you.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” I murmur. Her scathing glance tells me she heard me.

“I think the green dress would look good on you. It’s even got a high neckline . . . at the front, anyway.” She grins and turns it around so I can see the back.

“That will show my butt.”

“No, it stops right above it. I think it will look awesome.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not? When you dance, you wear things that are much more revealing.”

“Those are costumes, and they cover what they’re supposed to cover.”

“So that’s why you’re OK with shaking your almost-naked butt in front of the judges, Lane,” she says, giggling.

“I’d never go out with an almost-naked butt,” I argue as I get up and take the dress from her. “I’ll try it on, but don’t you dare laugh!”

“I doubt I’ll have a reason to,” she says, more seriously.

I turn around and take off my clothes. When I have the dress on, I spin to face her. “How stupid does it look?”

“It doesn’t look stupid at all. Well, your hairstyle doesn’t really match, but otherwise you look great.” Macey pushes me in front of a mirror.

“I don’t feel comfortable.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the back. I can’t wear a bra with it.”

“That’s why I have a stick-on bra.”

“As if I would want to stick a layer of foam to my boobs.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper. You look great. And why do you want to wear a bra, anyway? It’s not like you really need one.”

“Uh, because I don’t want anyone to be able to tell that I’m cold?” I answer, although it should be obvious.

“No one will be able to tell with the stick-on bra—that’s what it’s for. But you don’t want to wear it.”

“Because you’ve probably already worn it.”

Macey looks offended. “It’s brand-new.”

“Well . . . OK. But you’ll have to help me put it on. First I’m going to lie down for a while, and then take a shower.”

“You know that I have to leave at five, don’t you?”

“I do now. So, in that case, how do I put the thing on?”

“Just peel off the backing and press it around your boobs.”

“I hope I’ll be able to make it look right.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. And besides, it comes with instructions. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Do you have any other dresses I can try, just in case it doesn’t work?” I ask.

She grins at me. “This one is perfect. Gavin will be charmed by your beautiful back.”