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

by Stephanie Bond

  “Are you still there?” Karen asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Anything else on the printout?”

  “Nope—if your girl is this runaway, she’s led a squeaky clean life.”

  “Thanks. Put the file on my desk. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and rubbed his face. Now what?

  He opened the envelope of extra pictures that he’d taken and flipped to the ones he’d taken of Gracie yesterday, when she’d walked outside. She was stunning, like a movie star from the sixties, compact, graceful, sexy. Especially considering that she hadn’t been wearing panties.

  Gracie was a beauty, but he’d resisted plenty of beautiful women in his lifetime—what about her had hit him between the eyes and made him want to break the rules?

  He pulled out the close-up photo of her and tucked it in his shirt pocket, then heaved a frustrated sigh—he’d have to face her sooner or later. He grabbed the envelope with the extra photos and swung down from the SUV. He rubbed the four-leaf-clover key chain. If luck were with him, Lundy would show up today and the takedown would be textbook smooth. Then he could leave before things got more complicated.

  GRACIE LOOKED at her watch—with less than an hour until the first wedding, she was growing more and more nervous that Steve wasn’t going to show. Unemployment was one way to avoid morning-after awkwardness.

  She’d spent the day alternating between reliving their incredible lovemaking and kicking herself for letting him in her apartment. If he quit because he didn’t want to face her, what was she going to tell Cordelia, especially since her boss had specifically warned her to steer clear of Steve?

  And worse, if he didn’t come back to TCB, what did that say for how he felt about her? That their encounter was just a one-night stand? That he hadn’t felt the powerful connection between them that she had?

  The door opened, triggering a “Love Me Tender” chime. Steve walked in and gave her a flat smile, his expression unreadable. Her initial relief to see him quickly plummeted when she saw the lines of tension on his forehead.

  “Hi,” she ventured.

  “Hi,” he said, nodding curtly, as if they were strangers.

  “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show,” she said with a little laugh.

  “Because of last night?” he asked. “I still have a job to do.”

  Her heart sank at his matter-of-factness. “Right. Of course.”

  “I had a great time,” he said. “Really great.”

  “Good,” she said stupidly. “Great.”

  He handed her an envelope. “I had the photos from yesterday developed. I thought you might like them.”

  “Thank you,” she said woodenly.

  “Guess I’d better get ready,” he said, and disappeared down the hall.

  She closed her eyes, pulsing with shame. How awkward was this working relationship going to be? And had she really, truly, deep down, expected anything less than rejection?

  “What’s up with Steve?” Lincoln asked, coming through the door.

  She straightened. “What do you mean?”

  “His face is longer than H.D.’s.”

  Gracie averted her gaze.

  “Wait a minute—did you two hook up?”

  She inhaled and exhaled.

  “You did! You did hook up!” Lincoln tucked his arm in hers. “Was it divine?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “Yes.”

  “I knew it!”

  “And now he wants nothing to do with me,” she said.

  He frowned. “Really? What a jerk.”

  “And if you tell anyone else, I’ll spread the rumor that you use carnations in your bouquets.”

  “I do not!”

  She smirked and made a zipping motion with her hand, glad to joke about it with someone.

  “What are those?” he asked, pointing to the envelope.

  “Pictures that Steve took yesterday.”

  Lincoln flipped through them. “Wow, these are really good. Oh, wait—I took this one.”

  She peeked over his shoulder to see Cordelia, Roach, H.D., her and Steve in front of the pink Caddy. She and Steve were looking at each other, her head tilted up, his head tilted down. They seemed separate from everyone else—it was if there was no one else in the world. Her heart swelled.

  “Want to keep it?” he asked her quietly.

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “No thanks.” She looked at her watch. “I’m going to check the chapels.”

  “What’s on the agenda for tonight?” Lincoln asked, glancing at the appointment book. “Wow, only three ceremonies?” Concern crossed his face. “That’s not good.”

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “Something’s got to give.”

  He made a rueful noise. “Anything exciting in the lineup?”

  “Not really. One Aloha Las Vegas package with a hula girl.”

  Lincoln laughed. “Oh, that’s always fun—you’re good at that.”

  She smirked. “Thanks. And one Love Me Tender package and one Teddy Bear package.”

  “Got it,” he said. “See you in a few.”

  Gracie went through the motions of donning a grass skirt and lei in preparation for the first wedding, but her heart wasn’t in it—she wanted to go home and put on old 45s and wallow in her misery for a few hours, to cry Steve Mulcahy out of her system. She finally shook her malaise when the couple arrived, reminding herself that this was their wedding day, and they deserved everything to be just right.

  Even if they were a strange-looking couple.

  Michelle Paddington and Thomas McDonald arrived fully dressed—the stocky bride stuffed into a high-necked, long-sleeve satin gown, her face obliterated by a veil, the slender mustached man was half her size and quite effeminate. But who was she to judge? They had found love and she hadn’t.

  Still, she made a mental note not to make eye contact with Lincoln during the ceremony, else he would laugh. Pathetically, she’d probably be looking at Steve the entire time, anyway.

  WHEN STEVE came out to the lobby in his Hawaiian garb, he almost swallowed his tongue—Gracie was hard to resist in holey sweatpants and a ragbag T-shirt, but in a grass skirt, she was spellbinding. Her long slender legs peeked through the grass all the way up to her…was she wearing underwear? He blinked to refocus. Probably a thong, which meant when she turned around…

  She turned her back and he caught the flash of the curve of her behind. Yep—a thong. He closed his eyes briefly. How he’d ever get through this wedding, he didn’t know. If she started dancing, he was liable to hit his knees and beg her to let him mow her.

  He greeted the couple, keeping one eye on Gracie. They were a pitiful pair from Tacoma, Washington. Michelle Paddington was either practicing a religion that required her to shield her face, or she was one ugly woman. Meanwhile, Thomas McDonald was as gay as the nineties, Steve was sure of it. Oh, well—there was someone for everyone.

  Himself excluded.

  The ceremony began and Steve walked the hefty woman down the aisle. Within a few steps, warning bells started going off—something wasn’t right. Women, he had learned, walked straight ahead. Men, on the other hand, moved side to side when they walked.

  Michelle Paddington was walking side to side—maybe she was a transsexual. In fact, looking at Thomas McDonald, maybe they both were—that would explain a lot. He deposited the bride next to the groom and gave her away on cue, then returned to the back of the chapel to check the camera. The more he watched the two of them through the lens, the more he was convinced that he was watching one of those couples on TV who wake up one day and decide to swap sexes.

  It took all kinds, he supposed.

  He straightened from the camera to have the best view possible of Gracie when she began her hula dance. His sex hardened instantly, remembering every detail of what lay beneath that grass skirt. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman so badly…and wanting her again so soon. The strange chest pain that had been plaguing him struck again.

>   That olive pizza had been repeating on him all day.

  When the ceremony concluded, Steve prepared to lipsynch “Hawaiian Wedding Song.” When he was halfway through the song, something that had been niggling the back of his mind slid to the forefront—Paddington. He’d heard that name before, but it wasn’t the name of a person…what was it?

  He struggled to keep up with the song, trying to listen, read lyrics, and think at the same time—field agent training hadn’t included karaoke under pressure.

  Paddington was a bank, he remembered suddenly. A bank in Reno…

  Owned by Mitch Lundy.

  He continued performing, but took another look at the couple at the end of the aisle—the effeminate man, the masculine woman.

  No…Lundy wouldn’t dress up as a woman…would he?

  You dressed up as Elvis, his mind whispered.

  And wouldn’t Lundy love boasting that he had gotten married right under the nose of an undercover agent? Fear bolted through Steve’s chest—if Lundy had gone to such lengths to disguise himself and try to pull one over on the feds, then he knew who Steve was.

  And everyone in the room was in danger, including Gracie.

  Everyone was looking at him—he had stopped lipsynching. They knew something was wrong. Lincoln was rolling his hands frantically, trying to get him to continue.

  Steve saw the “bride” lean over and whisper something to the “groom” and they started walking toward the door. He had no time to call for an arrest team to meet Lundy. The best he could do was call for backup. “Gracie, Lincoln, get down! Stop Lundy, FBI, you’re under arrest!” He pulled his gun with one hand, radioed for backup with the other.

  Lundy’s “groom” bolted for the door. But Lundy ripped off his veil and grabbed Gracie, positioning her in front of him, jabbing a handgun under her chin. He glared at Steve, then laughed. “Almost had you fooled, didn’t I, Berringer? I was really looking forward to telling all the boys about it over poker.”

  Steve’s heart thudded in his chest—Lundy wouldn’t think twice about killing Gracie, or Lincoln. Although since Lincoln had fainted and lay prostrate in front of the altar, he was no longer a concern.

  “Let her go, Lundy!” Steve shouted. “The place is surrounded—you have nowhere to go.”

  Lundy laughed. “All the more reason to take a hostage with me, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Don’t make me shoot you, Lundy.”

  “If you shoot me, I’ll still be able to fire a round.” He began to back up, working his way toward the door. Gracie’s eyes were wide with terror.

  Perspiration beaded on Steve’s upper lip as helplessness raged in his chest. He held up his gun. “I won’t shoot, Lundy, let her go.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

  “I don’t think so, Berringer. Like you said, I still have to get out of here.”

  Steve’s mind raced—if the backup arrived, Gracie could be killed in the crossfire. He couldn’t let that happen. Just as he started to lower his gun to shooting position, he spotted H.D.—lying on the floor directly in Lundy’s path.

  Good boy, he thought.

  Lundy took a step back, tripped and fell hard, dragging Gracie with him, but the gun fell from his hand and spun away. Steve charged forward, “Roll, Gracie, roll!”

  She did, rolling away from Lundy’s grasp.

  Steve stopped a few feet from the criminal he’d been chasing for years, a bead on the man’s forehead. “Don’t move, Lundy, or I’ll shoot.”

  Unarmed and tangled in the ridiculous bridal gown, Lundy was powerless. He cursed a blue streak. “Man to man, you can’t let me be taken into custody like this.”

  Steve smiled. “Oh, but I can.” He lifted the radio to his mouth. “Karen, Lundy is secure.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she said. “Your backup is outside, holding Lundy’s girlfriend.”

  “Good,” Steve said. “Call the TV stations. I’ll be bringing Lundy out in ten minutes, and I think everyone will want to see this.”

  “Roger that,” Karen said. “Civilians accounted for?”

  Steve glanced at Gracie, cowering wide-eyed with Lincoln, who appeared to have come around. “Civilians accounted for,” he said, breathing a colossal sigh of gratitude.

  GRACIE SAT on the front steps of the chapel, dazed, watching FBI agents and reporters swarm the property. She didn’t want to talk to reporters, but Lincoln had been happy to spill his guts—conveniently omitting the part about passing out, she presumed. H.D. lay next to her, snoring.

  She watched Steve—minus the wig and sunglasses—as he talked to other agents and systemically cleared the area. One very pregnant female agent handed him a folder that he seemed interested in. Everything made sense now—why he had come, his covert behavior, the calls from “Karen,” the mixed sexual signals.

  He walked in her direction. Her pulse spiked, but she remained seated to try and appear calm. He stopped in front of her, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry…about everything. The half-truths and outright lies I had to tell, and especially for getting you in the middle of things. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

  She smiled. “That’s the way life is, I suppose. Did I hear Lundy call you ‘Berringer’?”

  He nodded. “Agent Steve Berringer, at your service.”

  Not true, she thought. “So, Agent Berringer, where are you off to next?”

  He shrugged. “Wherever the next assignment takes me.”

  “So you were just passing through?”

  He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  Her heart squeezed. And she was just someone to pass the time with. He would move on to another assignment, find another diversion.

  “I’m sorry about a lot of things, Gracie.” He wet his lips. “But I’m not sorry about last night.” Regret pinched his face. “I wish I had more to offer, Gracie, but I don’t. You’re looking for someone to settle down with, and marriage just isn’t for me.” He looked down at the folder in his hands, then extended it to her. “This is one small thing I can give you. I hope it helps you to find all that good luck you’re looking for.”

  Gracie frowned in confusion, but took the folder. When she looked up, Steve had disappeared into the shadows.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE to hire a full-time receptionist,” Cordelia said, her face all smiles, “so that you can concentrate on the ceremonies. Between the publicity the chapel got over the Lundy arrest, the restored Caddy and the new ad campaign you designed, business is booming!”

  Gracie heaved a sigh, then sat down in the chair opposite Cordelia’s desk. “Cordelia…while you’re at it, you should advertise for a new wedding director, too.”

  “What do you mean? Are you leaving?”

  Gracie summoned her strength, then nodded. “Yes.”

  Cordelia grinned. “Thank heavens!”

  Gracie laughed. “That wasn’t exactly the response I was expecting.”

  Cordelia came around to give her a hug. “Gracie, sweetheart, you know I love you, but it’s time for you to spread your wings and fly. You’re beautiful, you’re talented and you’re educated—you can’t waste away here at TCB.” She squeezed Gracie’s hands. “Where will you go?”

  “I’m not sure,” Gracie said, thinking of the missing person’s file that Steve had given her before he left. “I need to go to Oklahoma first and make peace with my family there, and visit my mother’s grave. Then who knows? Maybe I’ll just throw a dart at the map and see where it lands.”

  “Good for you,” Cordelia said, and brushed Gracie’s hair back. “I know you still miss him, sweetheart, but it’s time to move on.”

  “Miss who?” Gracie asked lightly.

  “You know who. But if Steve Berringer didn’t recognize a good thing when he had it, then you don’t need him.”

  “I know,” Gracie said, her throat thick. “But I do love him.”

  “And you’ll find love again,” Cordelia promised.

&nb
sp; Gracie took a cleansing breath and nodded. “I need to get ready for a wedding.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk again before you leave.”

  Gracie returned to the lobby which was freshly refurbished with paint and new carpet that someone else would have to wear thin, she noted happily. She looked at the pictures on the bulletin board and thought how much she would miss seeing people starting new lives together, but was looking forward to this new and necessary chapter in her own life. One picture in particular caught her eye—the picture of her and Steve looking at each other that Lincoln had cropped from the original photo. She removed the pin holding the photo and ran her finger over his face.

  She had met so many people at TCB over the years, now blurred faces and names. A few months from now, Steve Berringer’s face would be just as fuzzy.

  She could hope.

  The new intercom beeped and Lincoln’s voice sounded. “Gracie to the drive-through, please. Gracie to the drive-through.”

  She smiled—the world didn’t stop for heartache.

  She put the picture in her pocket and made her way back to the booth where Lincoln was working today, surprised to see Cordelia there as well.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  Cordelia nodded to the booth window. “We have a special guest I thought you might like to see.”

  Curious, Gracie looked through the window to the SUV waiting outside. Steve sat in the driver’s seat, his expression anxious. Her heart thumped against her breastbone as she fumbled for the intercom button. Her brain raced with possible reasons for his return, but remembering her penchant for projecting what she wanted onto a situation, she reined in her galloping emotions. “What…what are you doing here?”

  He hesitated. “I’m…proposing.”

  She squinted and crossed her arms. “Proposing what?”

  He looked startled, then said, “Proposing marriage.”

  Joy leaped in her heart, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook that quickly. “What if I’ve found someone else in the three months you’ve been gone?”

  His brow furrowed. “Have you?”

  “No. But you don’t call, you don’t e-mail, you don’t send a telegram all this time and now you just show up and propose?”