His face got all red.
“I’m kidding. I know if you were gay you’d have much better taste.”
He smiled, turned to find Kenny standing with his crew. “I don’t know. He’s pretty cute.”
“Which is what Felicity said about you.”
“Really?”
“Charlie, what the hell’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. “Come on. The hair. The clothes. The new ‘tude. If it’s not Felicity, it’s someone.”
“You’re right.”
“I knew it. Tell me she doesn’t want you to quit. Please tell me.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Thank God.” Molly picked up her drink. “So who is she?”
Charlie got his own drink and took a sip. “What’s that song they’re playing?”
She didn’t even have to think about it. “‘Devil in Disguise.’”
“Elvis, right?”
“Yeah, it is, and stop avoiding the question.”
He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Molly, you don’t look like you’re having a very good time. This party is for you.”
“It’s for us.”
“No, babe. It’s The Molly Canada Show. It’s gonna change a lot of things.”
“You’re starting to scare me.”
“Don’t be scared. Be excited. You deserve this.”
“We do. We. Not just me. We’re partners, remember?”
He gave her a crooked smile. It disconcerted, that smile. Because it wasn’t really Charlie. Not her favorite buddy. Not the guy that she’d call at three o’clock in the morning when she couldn’t sleep. The guy who knew just when to buy her something shiny, how to lift her moods, who didn’t care when she was a first-class bitch, but loved her all the same. This was Charlie’s hot brother. A doppelgänger. And she didn’t know what to do with him.
“We’re partners,” he said. “But it’s your show all the way.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
“Yes you would. You’d have found someone else to write with.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want someone else.”
“Good.”
“So, does this mean you’re not leaving?”
“Why would I leave?”
She stepped back, looked him over from top to toe. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Charlie?”
He laughed. “It’s me, kiddo. Just new wrapping.”
“Nope. That’s not all. It’s this woman. I know she’s doing something. And Charlie, please believe me, I want you to be happy. But I also want you to be careful.”
“I’m a big boy.”
She touched his wrist. Held on a little. “I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I. Now, where are those executives we’re supposed to schmooze?”
She didn’t want to end the conversation, but this wasn’t the time. He’d admitted all this was over a woman, but clearly it wasn’t Felicity. It wasn’t anyone here.
Why wouldn’t he tell her? It was going to drive her insane, that’s all. Insane. But for now, they had another hour at least of pressing the palm. She led him toward the gaggle of execs huddled together halfway between the bar and the door. “I don’t remember any of their names, so introduce yourself first.”
“Got it.”
“And say good things about me.”
“What else is there?”
“I’m not kidding.”
He stopped, which stopped her. She looked at him.
Charlie looked right back. And once again, she was off center, not at all sure who she was with. “I’m not kidding either,” he said.
Before she could ask what he meant, one of the suits came right up to them, and Charlie handled him like a pro. All she could do was stand back and watch the magic. He’d never been good with the business side. That’s why they had Estelle. But he had all of them cracking up. Smiling. Patting him on the arm.
Weird. So incredibly weird.
FINALLY, they were able to leave. Half the crowd had already gone, including Felicity who left with one of the suits when Charlie didn’t heel, but they’d waited until the network folks left. Then they beat feet to the elevator.
Molly listened to Charlie chatter about the night, about the show, about everything but what she wanted to talk about. It would kill her to go home without knowing. She’d never get to sleep, and dammit, she needed to sleep.
When they got to the casino floor, there was no use trying to talk. Not over the sounds of the slots and all those tourists. So she waited. But the second they were outside, well, after they gave their tickets to the valet, she pulled him over to a quiet corner.
“What?” he asked.
“Charlie. Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Don’t make me get snippy. Tell me who this woman is.”
He laughed. Laughed! “Molly, you are too much.”
“Screw that. Just give it up. I can’t stand this another minute.”
“Did I tell you tonight that you look gorgeous?”
She lifted her hands to wring his neck. “Charlie.”
“You do. You were the most beautiful woman there.”
“Flattery will only get you killed.”
He laughed again. Looked behind her. “My car.”
“I don’t care about your car. I want to know who this woman is that’s turned you into Brad Pitt.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and just as she was going to whack him a good one, he grabbed her upper arms, pulled her close and kissed her.
It definitely wasn’t a Charlie kiss.
Not the old Charlie, that is.
She parted her lips as her stomach did flipflops, and then it wasn’t just a kiss but a kiss and holy crap, her whole world turned upside down and sideways.
When he let her go, she had to remember how to breathe. How to think.
He walked past her. She turned, knowing her mouth was open and that she must look as shaken as she felt. But he just smiled again. And got in his car.
CHAPTER SIX
CHARLIE RODE down Las Vegas Boulevard with the radio pumping out rock and roll. Molly’s station. Loud. And he sang.
The wind whipped his hair, the moon shone down on his smiling face, and he didn’t even care when the driver of a Toyota nearly ran him off the road.
He’d kissed her.
Boy, he was flying. The look on her face! And damn if it wasn’t the best exit known to man. He’d been cool as a cucumber, which was also an expression he should include in Molly’s routine, but that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that he was the man.
He howled. Then coughed for awhile, but that didn’t matter. It had to be the clothes. The clothes and the hair. Both. That Elvis thing. Yeah. Elvis.
He’d just been, you know, going through a phase. He hadn’t really…I mean, that would be nuts. Elvis was dead, and besides, he hadn’t been around even once today. Nope, Charlie had dressed himself.
Which, now that he thought about it wasn’t something to necessarily brag about, but screw it. He’d picked out the clothes. After only half a dozen tries.
They’d been a hit. Molly had thought he was with Felicity. Ha. A couple of days ago he could have saved Felicity from a gang of marauding bikers, and she wouldn’t have given him a second look, but tonight? She’d given him the touch.
He knew about the touch. And the hair flip. And the fluttering laugh accompanied by the giggle. He knew about women. Oh, yeah.
He put his right arm over the passenger seat back. Slicked his hair with his left hand. If it wasn’t completely dark out, he’d have put on his sunglasses, because that’s just how cool he was.
“So you think you got it made, do ya, little brother?”
The car swerved to the left and he had to grab the wheel with both hands to avoid the bus. “Shit!” He looked at Elvis, sitting right there, the white suit glit
tering in the moonlight. “What the hell are you doing? We could have been killed.”
“We?”
Charlie stared at him. Elvis was dead. A dead man was in his passenger seat. Nope, it didn’t make any more sense now than it had in the Hilton showroom. Or his bathroom. Or The Forum Shops.
“What’s the matter, Charlie? You did good tonight, son.”
“Damn straight I did good. Did you see her face?”
“Uh, son?”
“Yeah?”
“You’d best look at the road.”
Charlie’s head snapped front and he jerked the wheel. He smiled as the nice man in the Porsche gave him the finger. Once his heart calmed down to mere panic, he glanced, briefly, at Elvis. “What now?”
“Why don’t we get home, then we’ll talk.”
“Home? What, you’re moving in?”
“Until it’s over.”
“My life?”
Elvis laughed. “No, son. Until you get the girl.”
Charlie thought about that for a minute. “Why?”
“Because you need help.”
“So you’re here because I’m pathetic?”
“Yep.”
“Great.” He turned off the radio. Eased up on the accelerator. He’d been the man. The dude. And now?
“You’re on the right road, so don’t you fret.”
“Why not? It’s something I do so well.”
“You looked fine out there tonight. Miss Molly was impressed.”
“Miss Molly’s worried about the act.”
“That’s true. She just doesn’t know yet, that’s all.”
“Know what?”
“That you’re the man she’s supposed to be with.”
Charlie gaped. Then looked back at the road. “Okay, you were right. Let’s get home, then we’ll talk.”
It didn’t take that long to pull into his driveway, but in the interim he’d come up with about a zillion questions. Why he hadn’t asked them before perplexed him, but he sure as hell was going to ask them now.
He got out of the car and nearly had heart failure when Elvis popped up in front of him. “Don’t do that.”
“Maybe I should drop by another time.”
Charlie reached for his arm, and grabbed a bunch of nothing. He recovered quickly, though. “No. Tonight. I need some answers.”
Elvis took off his big old sunglasses just to arch his right brow.
“First of all, why me?”
“Why you?”
“Don’t be doing that repeating thing. We’ll be here all night.”
A sigh, a shift of those legendary hips. “All right.”
“So?”
“I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“I said, I don’t know why it’s you. I never know why.”
“You don’t?”
Elvis shook his head, dislodging a thick strand of hair so it flopped over his forehead.
“But you’ve done this a lot, right?”
“A few times.”
“Does it always work?”
“I wish it did.”
Charlie sighed and leaned against his car. “So all this could be for nothing?”
“I hope not.”
“You can come back from the dead, but you can’t see the future? What kind of bull is that?”
“It’s the way it works.”
“What else haven’t you told me?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Come on, big brother. What else?”
“Just this. It’s up to you.”
“Huh?”
The left corner of his mouth lifted. Just like in the movies. “In the end, it’s up to you.”
Charlie opened his mouth, but the word turned into a yelp as Elvis disappeared. “Oh, crap.”
He turned in a complete circle, looked in the front seat, the backseat, across the street, but Elvis had left the building.
“You bastard!” He looked up to the heavens, then realized that was the wrong direction. “Don’t leave me like this. I don’t know what to do.”
MOLLY CRAWLED into bed, turned off the light, and stared at the dark ceiling. She’d been home for over an hour, and she still couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie.
She was the woman he’d changed for? Her? No. That was just crazy. Because Charlie was…Charlie. Her buddy. Her pal. Her partner.
And the best kisser on the planet.
She turned over. Punched her pillow. No. This was not good. Not even a tiny bit good. It was the opposite of good. Which would be, uh, bad. Well, okay. It was bad. Bad that Charlie thought about kissing. Her.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
Of course, his timing was impeccable. Now, after all the years they’d been working side by side with not a sign, not a whisper that he wanted anything else, bang, just as she was being given the biggest opportunity and challenge of her life, he has to pull this? Nice, Webster, real damn nice.
“Idiot,” she said, fighting the urge to call him and say it again. “Moron. We’re getting a nationally syndicated show, and you want to play footsie? Not a chance.”
The pillow got a few more punches, but at least she had a focus now. Anger. She was angry. What was he thinking? They couldn’t kiss. Or, heaven forbid, sleep together.
The thought made her stomach clench. Not in the way she expected.
Oh, crap.
She took a deep breath. And remembered.
It had seemed so perfect. Loving Rand. They’d worked together like a dream, and when they first made love it was magic. None of that hearts and flowers junk, just hard and nasty in the best possible way. They’d been animals. She had to touch him all the time. Couldn’t get enough. She’d been delirious with happiness, never better on stage, and together they’d written some of the funniest stuff ever.
And then it had all gone to hell. Not just their relationship, but everything. The writing. The comedy. Her self-worth. Her sanity. Rand had nearly sent her back to Ohio, and she’d sworn she’d never go back there. Not to her dismal hometown, or her alcoholic mother. Not to working dead-end jobs that made her want to scream. She’d hated it there, and yet, it had seemed a viable alternative to being in the same room as Rand. Being in the same state.
She would not do that again. Charlie was as different from Rand as pickles were from whipped cream, but it didn’t matter. They were writing partners. She’d stretched it into friends, and even that had been scary. So his kiss had given her goose bumps. So her whole body had melted despite the fact that she’d never been so shocked in her life.
Honestly, she loved him. But she wasn’t in love with him, and never could be. Absolutely not. Charlie needed to find a nice girl, someone who wasn’t insane, who didn’t live her kind of life, who knew how to treat a guy. How to keep a guy.
She was the absolute worst thing he could do to himself. Bonehead. Why did he have to go and fall in love with her?
Love? That was probably jumping the gun. Lust. Yeah, okay. It happened. They spent a hell of a lot of time together, and he didn’t get out much. But still. Dumb. Stupid.
He had to know she was lousy with guys. That her preferred M.O. was hit-and-run. Bobby kidded her all the time that she was more of a guy than he was. She didn’t mind. It worked for her. She’d get her ya-yas out, no harm, no foul, nobody got hurt.
Is that what Charlie wanted? A night of no-holds-barred rumbling?
She thought about it for a moment. Okay, ten moments, and the idea had its own warped appeal, especially now that Charlie had gone GQ, but no. Not smart. She could see all kinds of complications, the biggest being that Charlie was a sweetie. A true-blue romantic. He’s the only guy she knew who never failed to send her tulips on her birthday. His presents…Jeez, he remembered everything, and when it came to gifts, he was spot on.
Last year, on her birthday, he’d gotten her a really rare collector’s edition of Elvis Live on vinyl, no less. She knew for a fact he’d had to do some serious searching and that it w
asn’t cheap. But she’d mentioned in a casual conversation shortly after her birthday the year before that she’d love to have it.
He was amazing. Some woman would be incredibly lucky to have him.
Damn, but he’d looked fine. It was quite the transformation, worthy of The Swan, but the truth was, Charlie hadn’t changed anything but the outside.
When she told him there was no way, would that change his insides?
He was such a sensitive guy. And how he’d looked at her the moment before he’d kissed her. She’d probably remember that look long after she’d forgotten the feel of his lips. The way he’d tasted. The heat in his hands, in his body.
She moaned. Turned over.
Oh, yeah. She was gonna get a real good night’s sleep. Uh-huh.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“HEY, CHARLIE.”
At the whispered voice behind him, Charlie turned although he didn’t want to. Molly was onstage, and it was another incredible night. There was nothing like watching her hold an audience in the palm of her hand. Almost nothing.
It was Sam Masters, an up-and-coming comic he’d known slightly for a couple of years. “How you doin’?”
“I’m good.” Sam nodded past the curtains. “She’s on fire.”
Charlie smiled. “You got that right.”
“Which is kinda why I’m here,” Sam said. He moved a little closer, right into Charlie’s space.
“You trying to steal her material? Have you given any thought to being a little more discreet?”
Sam laughed. “Funny you should say that.”
Now Charlie was worried. He didn’t know Sam well, but he did know the man was something of a hound dog, to quote Charlie’s favorite dead friend.
Sam gave him a look. A really uncomfortable long look. “I see you’ve been making some changes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And word is, it might be more than just, you know, the Armani.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, so” he glanced at Molly again, a little nervously. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m, uh, looking.”
“For?”
“A writer, man.”
Charlie laughed. “Thanks, Sam, but I’m not—”
“Well, think about it, okay? Whatever you’re making, I can match it. More than match it.”
“I’m not looking to make a change,” Charlie said. “Not that kind, at least.”
Love So Tender: Taking Care of BusinessPlay It Again, ElvisGood Luck Charm Page 12
