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

by Stephanie Bond

  She seemed confused. “Who?”

  “Not important.” God, his heart was beating so fast. Not from the surprise either. Just from seeing her. She’d pulled her red hair back in a loose ponytail. Her T-shirt was one of her favorites, Hello Kitty, of all the damn things. And her shorts showed off her long, slender legs. He wanted her with an intensity that overshadowed his need to breathe.

  “Charlie, can we talk?”

  He nodded.

  She came closer, down the carpeted aisle until she joined him in the booth. She perched against the railing and crossed her arms over her chest. Then she stared at him. Not saying a word.

  “I’m not gonna take that job,” he said finally.

  She nodded. “That’s good.”

  He didn’t know what to follow it with. He could tell her he loved her again, but she knew that. He could say he’d never bring the subject up again, but he wasn’t sure if that would be a lie. So he waited.

  Her hands dropped as the slow seconds ticked by. And then she smiled. “I’ve done some thinking.”

  “Oh?” He didn’t want to feel this hope.

  “You’re nothing like Rand.”

  “I know.”

  “Really nothing like him. He was a total schmuck, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In fact,” she said, her smile a little wistful, but still there, “you’re the best person I know.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that—”

  “Shush. Let me do this, okay?”

  “Sure, Molly. Whatever you say.”

  She stood up, walked slowly toward him. “The thing is,” she said, “well, I love you.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m scared to death, I won’t lie about it, but you…”

  “I…?” His heart was now hammering. His hands shook. The next words out of her mouth could change everything.

  “You’re amazing. Everything sweet and wonderful and good. And I can’t lose you.”

  Charlie closed his eyes. Nothing had changed. Not a damn thing except for his hopes and dreams being dashed to bits. “Don’t worry, kid. As I said, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be your partner.”

  “Will you?” She moved closer still. Cupped his jaw in her hand.

  He nodded, trying hard not to let his disappointment show. “Sure. Can’t miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime, can I?”

  She shook her head slowly, studied his eyes so carefully. “Me neither.”

  “Okay, then.” He turned away, breaking the contact. “We’re all set. Wanna grab some dinner before the show?”

  “Charlie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not getting it.”

  He didn’t face her. He couldn’t. “Getting what?”

  “I’m in love with you. I want it all.”

  He cleared his throat, not daring to believe…“What was that?”

  “Turn around.”

  He obeyed, although he wasn’t sure how, as his brain was stuck and he couldn’t feel anything below the neck.

  She smiled at him, and what he saw there in her beautiful face kick-started the whole business again. His heart, his pulse, the shaking hands, everything.

  “Oh,” he said.

  “Oh, indeed.” Then she leaned forward and kissed him, very gently, on the lips.

  His eyes closed as he let the truth sink in. She was in love with him. In love. Not platonically, not like a pal, a buddy. In love. And yet…He looked at her, at her beautiful eyes. “Not that I want to jinx this. In fact, I’d rather go naked bungee jumping, but what about all the things you said? What about you and me repeating your not so swell history?”

  She sighed. “I still have some reservations,” she said, but they’re about me, not us. I had something of a…revelation…about us. About all of it. That I was letting fear run my life.” She leaned back against the rail, her hands bracing her on either side. “The thing is, if we’re both committed to making this work, then we can. Yeah, people change, but I know you. I know that when it comes to the big stuff, you’re a rock. You don’t cheat, you don’t lie, even when it would make your life easier. Rand had no moral center, and that relationship was doomed from the start.”

  “You think I’ve got a moral center, huh?”

  She shook her head. “Not think. Know.”

  “Cool.”

  “Of course, I still think you’re nuts for wanting me. I’m nothing if not certifiable.”

  Charlie laughed. “I’ve heard it said that the best you can hope for is to find someone whose insanity is compatible with your own. I’m pretty sure we’ve already met that criteria.”

  “In every way but one.”

  He opened his mouth. Then shut it again. “Oh, shit.”

  “Don’t freak now, Webster. I’m pretty damn certain that’s not gonna be an issue.”

  He quirked his left brow. “There’s one way to find out.”

  She nodded. “Only one.”

  “My place?”

  She stood up, walked close. “Nope. See, I’m a headliner at this here hotel. Which means that when I call the GM and ask for a room, they pretty much have to say yes.”

  “You got us a room?”

  “A suite,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.

  He parted his lips and felt her hand slip behind his neck. He pulled her close, body to body, heart to heart, and the kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore. It was everything perfect. All the happy endings in the world.

  It was Molly. And she was his.

  MOLLY HADN’T meant to cry, but she felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. She’d done it. Thrown caution to the wind, put the ugly past behind her and stepped out on a very thin limb. But she had Charlie to hold her if she started to fall.

  She kissed him harder, free now to let go. To show him everything, to show herself that the truth was bigger than the both of them. That she’d probably been in love with him for ages.

  It all made wonderful sense. She was in the right place at the right time with the right man. How she got here was another story, and not one she was going to share any time soon, but it didn’t matter, because, damn, it was Charlie. And he was hers.

  She pulled back, just a little, and noticed a light on the stage. Without letting go, she stared at the man who was suddenly there. In the spotlight. His black hair glistening, his white suit flashing. His smile filled with a contentment she knew all about.

  He didn’t say a word. He just lifted his hand and waved.

  Molly waved back and watched him slowly fade, disappear to wherever he’d come from. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  Charlie laughed. “Thanks for what? Loving you? Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

  She looked at him again. “And yet,” she said, “you do it so well.”

  His lips quirked in that funny way of his. “Yeah, well, I had something of a revelation of my own. Now, what were you saying about a suite?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  One Year Later…

  THE AUDIENCE was on its feet, the applause, the whoops, the hollers filling the sound stage. Molly stood by her comfy chair, her smile as bright as the lights above her. She nodded at her fans, overwhelmed at their acceptance, as always. She turned her gaze to the left, past the edge of the set. To Charlie.

  He was there cheering her on. Loving her. It was something she never got used to, never took for granted.

  The show had been an amazing success, especially since, after six months of phone tag, she’d finally gotten her interview with the delectable Jude Law. Only now that she and Charlie were together, it didn’t give her quite the same thrill. Almost, but not quite.

  She bowed once more, then motioned the crowd to simmer down, to go back to the casinos and the magic of Vegas. The house lights went on, and the back doors opened. It was over, at least for today. Tomorrow, she’d tape three more shows. The following night, she’d be at the Hilton. And Charlie would be with her through it all.

  She took off he
r microphone, leaving it on the chair, and headed right for him. They’d debrief the show with the producers, and then apparently Charlie had a surprise for her.

  He wrapped her in his arms. “Wow,” he said. “You did it again. Amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You ready?”

  “Give me ten to get the makeup off, then I’ll meet you.”

  “Okay.” He kissed her. “See you then.”

  Molly watched him walk away. He had on one of his Hugo Boss suits which had something to do with the surprise, although other than that, he’d given her no clues. But damn, he looked fine.

  How things had turned out so well was still a mystery, but one she no longer questioned. She’d never told him about her strange encounter with the ghost of Elvis, and she never would. Not that he wouldn’t believe it. He trusted her implicitly. But she didn’t want him to think she was crazier than he already guessed.

  Anyway, she needed to get her act together. It took her a few minutes to get to her dressing room. Unlike the Hilton, this was a pleasure palace, with her every whim accommodated. A fabulous sound system, furniture to die for, a stocked fridge, a huge closet and, in the back, she even had a bed. Which, thank you very much, she and Charlie had inaugurated on the first day of taping.

  Then it was smearing and wiping, and when her face was clean as a whistle, she put on her street makeup. Then she slipped into a pale blue Prada dress, her favorite. Whatever the mystery was, she wanted to look good for it.

  Once she was satisfied, she headed out to the conference room. Charlie was already waiting, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw her gave her goose bumps. This was going to be the fastest debrief ever.

  CHARLIE HAD NEVER been more nervous in his life. He’d planned everything to the last detail. Had dreams, and nightmares, about her reaction. But somehow, he knew that this was it. This was what they both wanted. What was meant to be.

  It was zero hour, and he could tell Molly was getting antsy to know what was going on. No more games.

  “Walk with me,” he said.

  She nodded, although he could see the questions in her eyes.

  They were on the street at the back of the Hilton, heading east. He remembered another time he’d walked this path alone. A year had passed since those crazy days, and his life had changed in ways he could never have predicted.

  They lived together now. Not in his place or in hers, but in theirs. A great house in Henderson, with a pool and a big old outdoor kitchen and a bedroom that was roomier than most apartments. The show had done amazingly well in the ratings, and Molly’s star had never shone more brightly. She was a celebrity. Her fan mail was so plentiful they had two full-time employees to handle it all. And Molly still loved him. A whole lot.

  “Charlie? I can’t take this anymore. You have to tell me where we’re going.”

  “It won’t be long. Just trust me.”

  “I do. You crazy bastard.”

  He laughed. This was either going to be the best surprise known to man, or things were going to get real…interesting. There it was, halfway down the block. In a few minutes he’d know. She’d know.

  He squeezed her hand as they walked to the entrance of the Tender Loving Care wedding chapel. Then he stopped. Held his breath.

  Molly blinked as she finally understood his surprise. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “Uh, is that a good ‘Oh my God’?”

  She didn’t answer him right away. She was too busy processing this monumental step. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him to pieces, it was that marriage was so…formal. It was forever. No more escape clauses, no more safety nets. This was it. The real deal. Did she want that?

  “Molly?”

  She turned to Charlie. Smiled at the panic in his eyes. Poor baby, he was terrified she’d say no. “It’s a very, very good ‘Oh my God.’”

  He laughed, his relief written all over his face. “Okay then. Shall we do this thing?”

  She nodded, struggling not to cry. “I’m in.”

  He led her forward into the reception room, his gaze hardly leaving her face. Watching her as if she might bolt. But then she got it. He wanted to see her expression when she saw all the people she loved already waiting for her. Bobby Tripp, Estelle, Mike, the producers of the show, the gang from the Hilton. They were all of them there, dressed up pretty, grinning like fools.

  She kissed and hugged each one, and then, in a daze she couldn’t quite shift, she signed papers, accepted a beautiful tulip bouquet, tried to stop her hands from shaking.

  Charlie took her hand, and led her into the chapel proper. There were pews and a red aisle and tons of flowers. At the end of the carpet there was an Elvis impersonator, and she had to laugh. If Charlie only knew.

  Music started. Piped in. Elvis, of course. “Love Me Tender.” Perfect.

  Charlie held her hand as they walked to the tune, and squeezed it as they stood before the man in the white suit. He actually wasn’t a very good Elvis. But she didn’t mind. This was perfect. Just perfect.

  “Thank you,” Charlie whispered. “I love you.”

  She turned. Looked deeply into his eyes. Eyes she knew so well. Loved so well. “Me, too.”

  Elvis cleared his throat, and she turned to face him. To say her vows.

  Only, it wasn’t the impersonator. It was him.

  Charlie gasped. She turned to look at his face. “You, too?”

  Charlie hesitated for a second, then nodded.

  She laughed out loud, turned back to their ghostly Cupid. “Just tell me one thing, Elvis. Is this going to be legal? Are we really going to be married?”

  Elvis smiled. “Oh, yeah, little lady. In this life and the next.”

  GOOD LUCK CHARM

  Joanne Rock

  CHAPTER ONE

  RULE NUMBER ONE for successful séances—never allow yourself to get distracted by thoughts of a man. Especially if the man in question wasn’t the one you wanted to conjure.

  Disappointed with another failed attempt to summon her icon—Elvis Aron Presley, undisputed King of rock ’n’ roll—Alyssa Renato blew out the candles on her makeshift séance table in the back room of her Las Vegas memorabilia shop, The Good Luck Charm. Hot wax had dribbled down the side of her white tapers, sealing her only good linen tablecloth to the round slab of cypress wood beneath.

  Blast Brett Neale for foiling the latest “Meet the Presleys” séance and ruining perfectly good linen. She had no business thinking about him tonight when she needed answers only Elvis could provide.

  “We’ll reach him next time,” a soft voice assured her from behind.

  Turning, Alyssa found her séance medium packing up her black velvet invocation bag with a Ouija board and enough incense to cause smog in Vegas for the rest of the year. Laura “Stargazer” Grimaldi was five years younger than Alyssa’s thirty-two years, but she possessed enough personal dignity to carry off her medium role with class and style. No easy feat while wearing a crystal-adorned turban.

  “I hope so.” Alyssa scooped up a few scattered plates from the appetizers they’d eaten earlier, then followed her five guests through the back room toward her storefront. “After tonight’s contact with Sonny Bono, I don’t know how many more dead singing celebrities we can possibly encounter. I loved Sonny & Cher as much as the next girl, but the heavens must be hard-up for singers willing to talk to us if he’s the best we can summon.”

  They wound their way through the store, passing stacks of velvet paintings, a rack of vintage leather jackets and movie posters for everything from Love Me Tender to Viva Las Vegas. Alyssa surrounded herself with all kinds of music industry memorabilia, especially anything Elvis-related. The King had been a family icon since she and her sister were apparently singing “Heartbreak Hotel” in a Tijuana orphanage when they’d been chosen by their adoptive parents. The Renato sisters had been taken in by great people, and although neither of the siblings had any real memory of the orphanage, they’d embraced Elvis as
their personal patron saint.

  They’d even carried that bond with their idol into adulthood. Alyssa had become a talent manager while Rosa, the younger sister by two years, had parlayed her love of music into a singing career. Together they had made it to number one on the pop charts, until a bout with anorexia nearly killed Rosa and forced Alyssa—who’d always felt light years older even though only twenty-four months separated them—to call an abrupt end to her sister’s career.

  “Oh come on, Alyssa. Sonny was as charming as ever. Much nicer than cranky Kurt Cobain who couldn’t be bothered to give us more than a grunt last time.” Laura lifted her velvet bag over the stacks of old LPs that had slowly infiltrated the aisles in the two years Alyssa had been running the Good Luck Charm. The quirky Vegas shop seemed a long way from the top of the Billboard charts, but at least it gave her a small connection to the music business she’d always loved.

  A connection that sexy rock musician Brett Neale wanted her to reopen. Why couldn’t he understand that she could never go back into the industry that had nearly stolen her sister from her?

  “You’re right,” she admitted, setting the snack plates beside the register while she said her goodbyes. “I’m just eager to conjure the right man.”

  From a few feet ahead of them, a silky feminine voice called back. “Maybe next time we should play dress-up in the store before we do the séance. We can all wear capes and sunglasses and see if that helps.”

  The suggestion came from Alyssa’s ever-helpful sister, Rosa. Every one of the “Meet the Presleys” séance group members loved the King, but Rosa was the biggest zealot of them all.

  In fact, Alyssa’s biggest reason for wanting to conjure the legendary singer was so she could ask him if they’d done the right thing quitting the music business. Alyssa had carried tons of guilt over the whole incident for the past two years, and by now her relationship with Rosa was so strained they could barely carry on a real conversation without one of them losing her temper. But if Elvis agreed they’d made the right choice, surely Rosa would forgive her.

  And, perhaps more to the point, maybe Alyssa would finally forgive herself.