Love So Tender: Taking Care of BusinessPlay It Again, ElvisGood Luck Charm

by Stephanie Bond

  Jeez, it was good. So very good. Good like a perfect show, like winning the big stuffed bear, like a sunset on Maui.

  And when he moaned and his hand went to the small of her back to pull her close, the way his body pressed into hers it didn’t stop the night. It started her heart.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHARLIE WAS in heaven. He felt her body pressed against his own, which was more than he’d ever hoped for, but then her sweet fingers inched along his neck until she held him steady, kissing him more deeply.

  Kissing him.

  He caressed her back, the curve of her hip as he learned her taste, how he could make her whimper with a thrust of his tongue.

  It would all have been perfect except for the voice at the back of his mind asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. She’d said no, she’d given him very clear, rational reasons for the aforementioned no, and he’d agreed with her. And yet, there was kissing. Touching. A surprisingly insistent erection.

  Her other hand came to his chest, and he thought she was going to push him away, but she didn’t. She just rested it there, close to his heart, and he felt sure she could feel the steady, rapid beat.

  He had to leave her lips, just for a breath, and to open his eyes. He needed to see her expression. She didn’t seem upset. Just kind of zoned, which was a good thing. He bent to kiss her again when something behind her made him look.

  “Oh, God.”

  It was him. Elvis. Standing right there.

  “I know,” she whispered, taking his mouth again.

  He turned his head, moving her to the side so he could see. Shit, he was still there. White suit, big belt, dark sideburns. He glared at the ghost, who didn’t seem very intimidated if his broad smile was any indication.

  “This is what I was talkin’ about,” Elvis said.

  Charlie gasped, pulled back. Looked at Molly to see her reaction, ready to explain. But Molly wasn’t looking at Elvis. She was blinking. At him.

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  She stepped back, out of his grasp. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “It’s okay. It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

  Her head went to the left, which gave Charlie an excellent view of Mr. Presley. “Charlie?”

  “Yes?” He smiled. Tried to keep his gaze on Molly.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Not a thing. Uh, that was, uh…But it’s really late, and uh…”

  “Dammit, Charlie, I’m sorry. See? It’s already doing things to us. Mostly to you, but still. Not good.”

  He forgot about Elvis, his focus totally on Molly. “Not good? Are you kidding? It was amazing.”

  She looked down. Sighed. “Yeah, dammit. It was.”

  He touched her cheek. “I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

  “I don’t either, I suppose. But it makes the next part more difficult.”

  His chest constricted, knowing what she was going to say. He couldn’t think of a thing to counter her objections. She was right. It was a huge risk and they had so much to lose.

  “Son,” Elvis said, “Don’t let this moment go. You’ve got to tell her.”

  “What?”

  “What’s in your heart,” Elvis said. At the exact same moment Molly said, “You know it can’t work.”

  This was hard enough without invisible Elvis. “But what if it could?” he asked.

  Molly winced. “Please don’t, Charlie. You’ve already seen I’m not good at this.”

  “I’d say you were really good at leaving. What I’m asking you to do is stay.”

  Elvis nodded, and Charlie nearly had a heart attack when he got a load of the guitar, which hadn’t been there seconds ago. Elvis started playing. Surely, Molly had to hear it, right?

  If she did, it didn’t show. She just kept looking at him as if she’d never seen him before. As if what he wanted was unthinkable.

  “I want you, I need you, I love you…”

  He was singing. The ghost of Elvis was singing songs in his dark living room. Great. Just swell.

  Charlie opened his mouth as the end of the lyric reverberated in his brain.

  Elvis rolled his eyes, strummed and sang it again.

  Charlie got it. He took hold of Molly’s upper arms. “I want you,” he said, knowing it wasn’t just a lyric, but the truth. “I need you. I love you.”

  Molly shook her head. “No, you don’t. You think you do because we spend so much time together. Trust me on this. It can’t work.”

  A new chord. Another song. “Any Way You Want Me.”

  “It can,” Charlie said. “Any way you want it to.”

  She winced. “I want it the way it’s always been.”

  “Don’t say that. Please. At least think about it. Think what we could have.”

  “I have,” she said. She moved, dislodging his hands. Before he could stop her, she turned.

  He gasped, expecting a scream. Or something.

  Elvis shook his head. Molly walked toward him. Walked through him. Like a hologram. Like a ghost.

  “I just hope it’s already not too late,” she said.

  Charlie reached out to throttle Presley, but he really couldn’t worry about it while he was so busy losing the woman of his dreams. He ignored the apparition. “It’s not. No matter what, we’re partners. I just think we’d be as good at this other thing.”

  She turned once more, and Charlie had to step to the left to see her. “I can’t risk it. Not with you. I won’t.”

  He heard her. Despite what had happened moments ago, he got it. Even if she had feelings for him, she wasn’t going to give it a chance. It was over before it had begun.

  Everything in him hurt. A physical ache in his chest, in his stomach, in his veins. How in hell was he supposed to go on from here? At least before, his pain contained a ray of hope. This was a hurt of a whole different kind. Longing was better. Wishing didn’t steal his very breath away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I’d better go.”

  He nodded, not trusting his voice.

  “Let’s take a couple of days, okay? I think we both need a little time.” She headed for the door.

  Charlie watched her walk away, and he knew that no matter what he said, no matter how he wanted to go back to the before, he couldn’t. He loved her. It wasn’t negotiable. And it wouldn’t matter how many days they took, when he saw her next he would die inside. He would want her and know he couldn’t have her.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she turned. “Charlie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s gonna be all right.”

  “No, I don’t think it is.”

  “What?”

  He closed his eyes. “I got an offer.”

  She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t open his eyes.

  “Sam Masters wants me to work with him.”

  “I see,” she said. “So what you said about us being partners no matter what, that was a complete lie?”

  “I don’t want to go,” Charlie said, forcing himself to look at her. “But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to pretend.”

  “Whatever you need to do,” she said, her voice filled with hurt. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

  “Me, too,” he said.

  She looked at him for a long, long moment. Then she walked out his door.

  Charlie didn’t move. Hardly breathed. It had all gone to hell. Every plan, every dream. Gone because he’d been a fool. He’d crossed the line and blown the best thing in his life.

  “Well, son—”

  “Get out,” he said, not even glancing back. “Get out and stay out.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve done enough. Just go.”

  When Charlie finally turned, he was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

  MOLLY DIDN’T drive home. Instead, she went to Horizon Ridge and parked on the mountainside. The sky
had turned pale; the sun would come up soon.

  She got out of her car and walked to the edge. It wasn’t a far drop, but that wasn’t why she was there. It was the view. From here, she could see across the valley. The Strip was lit up, as it always was, as it always would be. It didn’t matter what was going on in the real world, Las Vegas was the ultimate playground. Nothing counted in Vegas. Not the money, not the parties, not the people.

  She sat down, not caring about the dirt. Her legs just wouldn’t hold her anymore.

  How had things gotten so screwed up so fast? And what the hell was she supposed to do now?

  Her gaze shifted from the casino lights to the first glimmer of sun. Another day. She should have been in bed. Sleeping the sleep of the just. Instead, she was out here, wondering if she would be able to salvage her life.

  “Goddamn you, Charlie,” she said.

  She swiped the tears off her cheek. Why, why, why? Why had she kissed him? There was that one moment, that tiny little window of opportunity when she could have made it right. He’d apologized. She’d believed the sincerity in his voice, his honest desire to take it back.

  And then she’d kissed him, and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why. Was his first kiss so amazing that she had to repeat it? Or was she trying to prove to herself that it wasn’t amazing at all?

  Unfortunately, she knew the answer. It had been…

  She sniffed. Watched as the sky infused with a pink so vivid it made her sigh. Kissing Charlie had changed everything. Changed the way she saw the world. The way she felt about every kiss she’d ever had in her whole life. Changed the very nature of the universe.

  And it didn’t matter.

  He might turn her inside out with his touch, but he was still her writing partner, and that was sacred. It was the cornerstone of her career, and no matter what, she couldn’t mess with that. Not that.

  Not now.

  They wanted her for the talk show. Estelle was working with them to make sure she could still do her gig at the Hilton, but on a limited basis. The important thing was TV, the exposure. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of, and it was right here.

  Dammit, it was everything Charlie had dreamed of, too.

  Maybe he was afraid. This was unprecedented success, and Charlie wasn’t used to that. He was a rare commodity. Most comics worked alone. Others had writers, but they were anonymous, and they certainly didn’t work they way she and Charlie did.

  It didn’t surprise her that Sam had tried to steal him. Others would, too. He was a brilliant writer who didn’t need the spotlight. There weren’t many like him.

  But he was also her friend. Her best friend. A few days ago, she would have said he was like her brother, but now she knew that there was nothing brotherly in how he felt about her.

  To be honest, she would never feel like his sister again, either.

  Maybe he should take that job with Sam. How was she supposed to go on as if nothing had happened? To show up for work every day and know that he loved her? That she felt…something.

  God, she didn’t even know. Did she love Charlie?

  Of course, she loved him, but was it more than that? Could he be the one? The forever-dreamed-of perfect guy? Her soul mate?

  It was in the realm of possibility.

  So, what? Let him go off with Sam, and then they could date? How insane was that?

  All she knew for sure, for absolute, rock-solid, spit-in-your-hand truth, was that she couldn’t have it both ways. Because even if it was great, even if they were perfect partners in bed and at work, she’d be waiting, every single day, for the other shoe to drop.

  It wasn’t fair. None of it. And her heart ached at the choices she faced. One way or another, they were both going to lose. Big time.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARLIE PARKED in the Hilton lot, but he didn’t get out of the car immediately. He wasn’t ready to walk into the showroom. No one would be there but him, and the silence scared him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  But it was hot, and sitting in the convertible wasn’t exactly making him feel great. He stepped out, locked the car, put the keys in the pocket of his ratty old jeans. Screw the new look. What had it gotten him? He was who he was, and a flashy wardrobe wouldn’t change that. It wouldn’t change a thing.

  Instead of heading to the showroom, he started walking. Not on the Strip, but a side street. Away from the crowds and most of the traffic.

  The scent of beer and hot dogs made him look up. An old casino, faded in the brilliant sun enticed the passersby with cheap foot-longs and cold draft. It might have been three in the afternoon, but Charlie had only gotten out of bed an hour ago. He needed coffee, that’s all. Coffee and a heart transplant.

  His gaze moved to the far end of the street. In one of life’s cruel ironies, there were wedding chapels on all four corners. Very Vegas. Get your vows here! No waiting! All major credit cards accepted!

  He picked up the pace, anxious to get past the chapels to the coffee shops beyond. He’d hardly ever noticed them, actually. The chapels, not the coffee shops. They were just there, ubiquitous, all vaguely alike. But like a broken toe that kept knocking into chairs, he couldn’t escape.

  Hurrying, his eyes downcast, he didn’t notice the man standing in front of the Taking Care of Business chapel. He bumped into him, hard, and looked right into the eyes of Elvis Presley.

  Charlie’s adrenaline shot through the roof, and his hand curled into a fist, but before he did anything stupid, well, stupider, he saw that it wasn’t Elvis at all. This guy’s hair wasn’t the right black, the sideburns were too fuzzy and well, this guy was alive.

  “Hey, little brother. Watch where you’re going.”

  Charlie fought the urge to tell the wannabe that his voice inflection was off. Nothing the impersonator could wear or say would change the fundamental error. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Elvis, even as a ghost, had an undeniable charisma. Style. Grace. And absolutely no idea how to help two people fall in love.

  MOLLY LOOKED at her bedside clock. Three-thirty. Thank God she didn’t have to go to the Hilton until six o’clock. She felt as if she’d been run over by a bus. Her dreams had been awful. One after another, they’d all been about Rand. About the pain. The betrayals.

  She threw back the covers and as she climbed out of bed she thought about Charlie. Not about last night, or even the first kiss, but about little moments. Like the first time they’d stayed up all night talking and laughing their asses off.

  As she got into the shower, memories of the comedy club in Atlanta came to mind, and how she’d gotten so sick between the first and second show. Charlie had taken such good care of her, even though she’d been a disgusting mess. He’d been amazingly sweet. He’d brought her soup, medicine, taken her temperature, changed the pillowcases when they got too hot from her fever.

  She dried herself, pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and headed for the kitchen. First, coffee, then she might be able to face the day. She leaned against the counter as the coffee dripped. A flash from her dreams last night made her chest ache, and she retreated to Charlie.

  For every rotten thing Rand had pulled, Charlie had provided five wonderful moments that warmed her from the inside out. Charlie was the anti-Rand. Even his humor was kinder, gentler, although God knows, his satire was as sharp as a blade. But Charlie was never mean. Never cruel.

  Time to stop thinking like this. Yeah, Charlie was a peach, but that offered no guarantees. People changed when they got into relationships. Had to happen. Inevitable.

  She walked over to her counter radio and turned it on. Music would chase her thoughts away. Ah, Elvis. Excellent. Only the song, and she knew all the words, wasn’t going to help at all. “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” Yeah, she was lonesome. She turned to her second favorite station.

  Elvis, again. But the song wasn’t any better. “Could I Fall In Love?” “Yeah, okay? I could. But I won’t.”

  She tried her luck
on station three. Whoa. Elvis again. “I’m Falling In Love Tonight.”

  Molly turned off the radio, wondering what the deal was. It wasn’t Elvis’s birthday. Not the anniversary of his death. Anyway, the coffee was done. She got her cup, put in too much of everything and sighed as she took her first sip.

  Okay. She didn’t want to sit here and think. She didn’t want to go to the Hilton just yet. Maybe there was a matinee she could catch. A thriller or a comedy. Something scary, perhaps. She loved those.

  She turned. Gasped. And barely heard the sound of her mug shattering on the hardwood floor.

  CHARLIE FINISHED his coffee and put the cup down on the desk. He’d had to come back here eventually, and better to do it now, before anyone else showed up for work.

  The Hilton showroom hadn’t changed since his first Elvis sighting. Still dark, still cavernous, still comforting in an odd yet familiar way.

  He glanced down at his yellow pad. Nothing had changed there, either. He’d not had one idea. Not even a germ of a thought. He hadn’t even been able to doodle.

  His walk had done him some good, at least. He’d come to a decision. He wasn’t going to take that other job. For better or worse, he was going to stick it out with Molly.

  Even though it would hurt like hell. Even though his heart would ache every time he looked at her. He was still her partner. And frankly, being with her, despite everything, was better than being apart.

  Time would help. Eventually, the ache would dull. His humor would reemerge. At least he hoped so. And the show would go on.

  The new TV program would be a welcome distraction. A lot of stress, but he figured it would be a lot of fun, too. Certainly exciting.

  No, he’d carry on. Satisfied enough that they were friends. That she loved him, in her own way.

  He reached for his pen, but froze as he heard a noise behind him. There was no doubt who it was. Damn ghost couldn’t take a hint. “I thought I told you to get out and stay out.”

  “Oh, well, I uh—”

  Charlie spun around the second he recognized Molly’s voice. “No, no I thought you were someone else.”