This Changes Everything (17 page)

Sly decided to let it go. If they wanted to do this, it was their own business. To show Cleo he wasn’t going to cause any more trouble, he turned to her with a smile, and then was shocked to see her biting her lip, a tear streaming down her cheek. She didn’t see him, only Elvis and Trixie, who were walking at a snail’s pace up the aisle during the song.

Her sweetness touched him. She really was a softhearted person for all the sarcastic attitude she flung around.

Elvis handed Trixie over to Hugo, who was also overcome with emotion. His deep-set dark eyes were shining with unshed tears as he took Trixie’s hand in his and turned to the altar. Elvis finished his song, greeting everyone in the traditional manner, and asked if anyone had any objections to the marriage.

Sly felt Cleo’s gaze turn to him. He glanced at Hugo, saw him wipe away a tear, and kept silent.

The speedy vows centered on loving each other tenderly, not being cruel, and promising to avoid Heartbreak Hotel.

He couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Then they exchanged rings, Elvis proclaimed they were married and couldn’t be returned to sender, and they kissed.

“I’m all shook up,” Elvis declared, lifting the ukulele. “Join me in welcoming the married hunk and hunkette of burning love, Hugo and Trixie.”

The speakers began blaring “Viva Las Vegas.” Elvis and the showgirl belted out the lyrics while Hugo took Trixie in his arms and danced her down the aisle.

Cleo and Sly, clapping along but not dancing, stared at each other.

“They really did it,” Cleo said, her blue eyes like saucers.

Sly took her hand and pulled her into his arms. A light show had begun, flashing in time to the music. “Yeah.” He wondered if his parents were going to be annoyed he’d let it happen. In their family, weddings usually involved several hundred people, international flights, and five days of celebration. Hugo’s decision to elope wasn’t entirely because of his fear Trixie would change her mind. He probably wanted to avoid all the fuss.

The singing and dancing led to signing legal documents, giggles and hugs, generous tips, a few package-approved photographs, and a hurried exit to the parking lot. Another group, all in Hawaiian shirts and bikinis, were waiting for their turn, and they traded smiles and high fives as they passed.

Tucked under Hugo’s arm, Trixie was back to her old self again, relaxed and cheerful, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “That was perfect.” She turned to Cleo and Hugo. “Don’t you think? No wonder he was the best-selling solo artist in the history of recorded music. I read that on Wikipedia.”

“We’re lucky he’s nice enough to marry people now,” Hugo said.

“I really felt his spirit in there,” Cleo said. “Gave me chills.”

“I had chills, but that was just nerves.” Trixie gave Hugo a bear hug. “I’m better now. Sometimes you just have to hold on and jump.”

Over Trixie’s flower-clad head, Hugo beamed at the world and said nothing.

Trixie went up on tiptoe for another long kiss that went on and on. Cleo snapped a few pictures and even turned to take a selfie with them in the background.

Breaking the kiss, Trixie turned to them. “Now we have to ask for that favor.”

C
leo scrolled
through the pictures she’d just taken, deleting the bad ones, only vaguely aware of what Trixie had just said. Standing in the parking lot was a bit of a letdown after the Elvis revue, and she put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn.

“Favor?” she heard Sly ask sharply.

“This wasn’t it,” Hugo said. “Although we do appreciate you coming.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Cleo said. She was sincere, although the busy night before was catching up to her. Gravity was pulling at her eyelids, inviting her to rest.

“This is about the dogs,” Trixie said. “We’d like to travel a few days before we go home.”

“A full week, darling,” Hugo said. “You deserve a real honeymoon.”

“Would you be able to watch our fur babies? It would be best if you stayed in the house. My house, I mean our house, since Hugo has agreed to live there, even though he’s never been upstairs.”

Sly’s voice was wary. “Are you asking me or Cleo?”

“Both of you, of course,” Trixie said. “You spent the night together, right? But everything happened so fast, you don’t know how it’s going to be when you get back home. Staying at my house will give you a little time to figure it out.”

“Please,” Hugo said. “If she thinks she’s playing matchmaker, she won’t feel so guilty about leaving the dogs for another few days.”

Trixie turned to Hugo with a flushed, melting smile. “Am I that obvious?”

In response, Hugo cupped her cheek and kissed her on the lips. Sly glanced at Cleo and smiled.

He’s a nice guy
, she thought, going all squishy inside.
For an alpha mogul, he’s quite the sweetheart
.

Trixie broke the kiss and said somewhat breathlessly, “Mark’s room has the best bed since it wasn’t that long ago that he was living there, but maybe that would be a little awkward.”

Cleo couldn’t think of what to say. She was too busy wondering what excuse Sly was going to come up with.

“Liam’s old room is set up for guests,” Trixie continued. “The mattress is only a double, but since you’ve just gotten together, you’ll probably like being on top of each other.”

Elvis’s melodious warbling reached them from inside the chapel. Another wedding had begun. The sun was still low in the sky but shimmered brightly over the tile roof. At that moment, reality as she’d known it felt very far away.

“I’d be happy to stay at the house with the dogs,” Cleo blurted. The entire weekend had been one crazy impulse after another. “My wedding gift to you.”

“Wonderful! Of course you can use the piano as much as you’d like.” Trixie handed her a set of keys on a Chihuahua-shaped fob. “Liam and Bev have been watching my babies this weekend, but they have to go to work tomorrow. And they’ve got a human baby. I didn’t want to impose. Not with Mouse too.”

“Isn’t he at the vet clinic?” Sly asked.

“Bella wouldn’t mind keeping him another—” Hugo began, but Trixie patted him on the chest.

“No,” she said. “He can’t spend another day there. He’s going to be living at the house and should get to know it as soon as possible.”

“Even if you’re not there?” Sly asked.

“Why not? It might be better if the changes happen in stages. Stage one, the house and other dogs. Stage two, all of us together.” Trixie cast an appealing look at Sly, then at Cleo. “Are you willing to do that? He’s a doll. A gentle giant.”

“Why not?” Cleo wasn’t in any hurry to go back to her old life just yet, since she didn’t know how Sly was going to fit into it, if at all. “The more the merrier.”

“I’ll give you Bella’s number,” Hugo said. “Let her know whenever you’re settled, and she’ll bring him by.”

Trixie threw her arms around Cleo. “Thank you. I was going to invite you both to breakfast, but I think you’d rather get back into bed. To sleep this time.” She released Cleo, pinched Sly’s cheek, and returned to Hugo’s side.

Dragging Trixie with him, Hugo shook their hands and thanked them a few more times. “Viva Las Vegas,” he said finally, offering a lopsided grin, and soon they were climbing into the rental car, then smiling out the window as they drove away.

“Congratulations!” Cleo shouted, waving at the taillights. Too bad they hadn’t had time to put on any streamers. She waved again. What a crazy weekend.

Sly put an arm around her shoulders and turned her around. “Our ride’s here too.”

They climbed into a taxi, and Cleo removed a piece of stiff paper from her pocket that was digging into her thigh. Reminded of what it was, she smiled and started to put it into her purse.

“What’s that?” Sly asked.

Cleo waved the postcard. “It’s Elvis’s card. He was really good. Much better than I expected.”

“You took his card? For the wedding chapel?”

“I didn’t want to forget his name.”

“Just in case you needed an Elvis impersonator to marry you?”

“You never know,” she said with a laugh. When he didn’t join in, her humor drained out of her. “What’s the matter?”

He looked away and traced the door handle with a long, lean index finger. Reminded of last night, sexual awareness shivered through her.

“They’re really married,” he said. “Now we’re the ones who have to face the music while they avoid reality for a week.”

“No problem. I’m a musician,” she said, smiling again. “I love facing music.”

“It might be OK for you—you’re not close to any of them. I’ve got my parents and sisters and cousins to answer to, not to mention Mark and her other kids.”

“Then I’ll stay there by myself. I’m the one who volunteered.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then put a hand on her thigh. Another shiver rippled over her. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” he said, drawing a circle on her flesh with his thumb. Finally a smile curved the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything more.

“I didn’t expect you to give up a week of your life for Trixie’s dogs,” she said.

“I’m not.” He nuzzled her neck. “I’m giving it up for you.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch, trying not to think about anything but how wonderful the tip of his nose felt against her pulse point. Nothing was the same and the future was unknown, but they couldn’t figure everything out now.

When they got to the hotel, Sly began taking off her clothes as soon as the door closed behind them. But when they fell onto the bed, the feel of the expensive sheets against her bare skin reminded her of how tired she was, of how little sleep she’d had the night before, and she yawned like a cat. “I’m so sorry, but I’m not up for anything right now. I need to sleep for a little bit.”

Kissing her neck, he ran a hand down her belly and stroked her inner thighs. “Your skin is so soft. I had no idea skin could be so soft.”

His matter-of-fact tone sent shivers down her spine. “Really, Sly, I’m warning you. I’m too tired to do anything but just lie here.”

She felt his hand capture her breast. Intense pleasure-pain struck her as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. After a long moment, he lifted his head and murmured, “I don’t have a problem with that.”

Her body melted under him, tingling and limp, apparently more than happy to passively accept his attentions.

“Guess there are
some
advantages to sleeping with a workaholic,” she said sleepily.

“Glad you’re finally catching on.” He grabbed her hips and abruptly rolled her over.

Jolted by his strength—she wasn’t easily flipped—she lifted her head. “What are you—?”

Climbing on top of her, he brushed her hair aside and nibbled on her ear. “I noticed you like to sleep on your stomach,” he said in a low voice. His erection brushed her back, then her exposed bottom.

“I’m not sure I’m up for—”

“I’m up so you don’t have to be.” He reached between her legs and stroked her wet heat. “But this might feel better. Lift your hips.”

“What? Why?”

“Pillow.” His teeth gently bit down on her earlobe. Then he spanked her ass. “Up.”

“Sly—”

Somehow he hooked an arm under her and lifted her hips off the bed a few inches. Warming to the idea—burning up, actually—she braced her weight on her forearms and arched her back, high enough for him to shove a pillow beneath her pelvis. “Up,” she said.

He stroked her bottom with large, strong hands. “God, Cleo,” he said, his voice strained. “Your ass is unbelievable.”

She’d thought the same thing for years, but not quite with the same admiration. “Shopping for jeans is a bitch.”

He slid his erection between the cleft of her bottom, each of his hands caressing the flesh to either side. Then he moved one hand around her hips and lifted her again while the other slipped between her legs and spread her apart. He entered her with a single thrust.

She let out a strangled groan. The sensation of him filling her was more intense than the night before, so intense she wasn’t sure she could take all of him. He drew back slowly, then thrust again. Deep inside, her body began to sing, ache, and beg for more.

She was wide-awake now.

His weight came down on her, pressing what little air she had left out of her lungs. In spite of being pinned beneath his body, she was able to tilt her hips up to meet him in a position that gave her the most pleasure. Almost too much pleasure. It was almost too much. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“You’re so sexy,” he said, his lips against her temple. “I want you, Cleo. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

She arched her back, inviting him deeper. “Take me, take me,” she gasped.

“Oh, I will.” He pushed into her. “You’re mine, Cleo. Mine.”

“God,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” He slipped his hand beneath her and found the small, hard center of her desire. His voice fell. “Aren’t you?”

Words failed her. Openmouthed, she clung to the mattress and let go of her mind.

“Aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she said, barely able to make a sound.

He pressed into her from below and behind, and the tightness exploded. She closed her eyes and cried out as the current rippled through her.

He pounded into her, going deep, hard, fast. Then, with a shout, he shuddered into her, his fingers never letting her go.

They slept until they had to pack, check out of both rooms, and go to the airport. There, waiting at the gate for their flight, she lost all her winnings from the day before in the slots. She didn’t care. The shimmering sexual afterglow prevented her from minding anything. And a budding hope for a future she’d never let herself think about. Her and Sly. Not just one night, not just one weekend, but from now on.

Unwillingly, she wondered what a child of theirs might look like. Fair or dark, round or lean—it would be fun to find out.

Fun. Sure. Just fun. Not heartbreakingly wonderful.

They landed in San Francisco around seven thirty that night. Sly drove her to her apartment, then parked and escorted her upstairs to her door. For a moment, Cleo felt uncomfortable. They’d kissed on the plane and indulged in a little groping on the Bay Bridge, but they were entering familiar territory now. Her apartment, where they watched TV and teased each other about bad taste in beer.

She unlocked her door and pushed it open.

“I can’t wait to make out on that couch with you,” Sly said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Too bad we don’t have time tonight.”

“Too bad.” He brushed his lips across her cheekbone. “Do you have Trixie’s keys?”

She took them out of her purse.

“You don’t have to stay there.” He grabbed the keys and held them against his chest. “Really, if you go back far enough, I’m the one who got you into this. I’ll do it.”

“We’ll stay there together.” She tried to liberate the keys, but his grip was too strong.

“You don’t have to.”

“I said I would. I like dogs. It’ll be fun.”

He nibbled on her earlobe, inhaling deeply. “The nights will be, anyway.”

“Only the nights?”

In response, he traced her lips with his fingertip. “Every minute.”

“Mmm,” she said, sighing.

He shoved the keys into his pant pocket. “But I’ll get there first. It should be me who talks to Liam. Mark’s brother, next door. He can be difficult. He’s not going to be happy about his mother eloping with a moody veterinarian he’s never met.”

“No, I should tell him. I’m a stranger. He can’t blame me.”

With a quick kiss, he broke away and opened the front door. “By the time you get there, it’ll all be settled.” He grinned. “I’ll be waiting with bells on.”

“But—”

The door slammed shut. She opened it and saw the back of his dark, handsome head as he ran down the stairs.

She smiled. The man was too accustomed to getting his own way.

As she was emptying her suitcase and refreshing its contents for another journey, she reflected that she
was
grateful she wasn’t going to be the one to tell Trixie’s son about the quickie Vegas nuptials. Nice of Sly to insist.

Dangerous feelings enveloped her like a warm blanket. She savored the sensation for a moment before digging out a scarlet-red silk nightgown from the depths of her dresser. She shoved it into the suitcase. Whatever their relationship was in the future, right now it was a sexual adventure. She should focus on that.

It took her more time than she’d expected to load up her car. She had to bring her keyboard—pianos were nice, but they wouldn’t hook up to her laptop—and pack up the perishable items in the fridge. By the time she was parking next to Sly’s car in Trixie’s driveway in Oakland, it was almost eleven.

She hated to leave her most valuable belongings in the car, but it was the hills, not the flats where she lived, and there probably weren’t robbers crouching in the rosemary.

The porch light was on, and she heard yappy barking inside. Without ringing the bell, she opened the door and stuck her head in. “Honey, I’m home!”