“What are you saying?” Mark asked.
“Let’s see if you like it when you get interrupted at my wedding, Mark,” Sly said.
“You’re getting married?” April asked. “When did this happen?”
34
Cleo couldn’t take it anymore. She dropped her empty plate on the counter and ducked out of the room.
It didn’t feel real. It was like a play, and she was exiting stage left. Just a few days ago, Sly had run away at the thought of marriage. Now he was announcing their mythical engagement in front of his family and friends.
Her body felt weightless, insubstantial. She floated through the living room and out the front door. She floated down the steps to the driveway and across the pavement to her car parked next door.
There she put her hand on the hood and drew in a breath, feeling as if she’d run a marathon at ten thousand feet.
“Hold it!”
She looked back at Trixie’s house, not recognizing the voice. To her amazement, she saw Sly barreling down the steps three at a time, arms waving.
What was the matter with him?
He ran across the driveway, tripped over a rosemary hedge, and tumbled to his knees into the mulch. Before he was even on his feet, he gasped “Cleo!” and lurched forward and fell again. “Please.”
She continued to stare. Although she did have her hand on the hood of her car, she hadn’t intended on driving away just yet. Her plan had been to enjoy the fresh air and ponder the infinite sky while she waited for him to come out of the house so she could tell him she loved him.
But maybe he didn’t need to know that. She kind of liked seeing him all riled up. Desperation looked good on him. It went nicely with his dimpled chin and bedroom eyes.
Sure, it was evil, but she’d make it up to him.
“Yes?” she asked, staying where she was.
He got to his feet and brushed the bark chips off his knees. “Don’t go. Please, for God’s sake. We have a chance to really make something here. You and me. Don’t you see? It’s real. It’s never happened to me before. I didn’t realize what it was until it was almost too late. Don’t make it too late. I love you, Cleo. I love you like crazy. I think I’ve loved you for a really long time. I was just too stupid to admit it.” He approached her slowly, one hand out in front of him as if he were soothing an unbroken filly.
She overcame the urge to neigh. “How long, do you think? That you’ve loved me?”
“I don’t know, a long time. At least since that time you got me to sneak into the Claremont with you to use the hot tub.”
Her insides went gooey on her. “That was ages ago,” she whispered. “I thought you’d forgotten about that.”
“Hardly. It’s the first time I saw you… almost naked. And then you went into the water.” His nostrils flared.
The Claremont was a ritzy hotel and spa in Berkeley that catered to rich vacationers and the business elite. That day had been the one-year anniversary of her divorce, and she’d needed a distraction.
“It was one of the best days of my life,” he said. “But now I know that’s because you were in it.”
Her heart skipped. Oh, he did good grovel. She couldn’t keep up the tough act much longer. “And you got to see me all wet and slippery.”
Nodding, holding her gaze, he took a step closer. “I felt guilty about… dwelling over… that day as often as I did.”
“Dwelling?”
He was directly in front of her, inches away. “Fantasizing.”
“Why didn’t you do anything?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I—” Because she’d never let herself believe it was possible. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“So you fantasized about me, too?” Smiling faintly, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. Shivers ran down her back.
She’d walked right into that one. “No.” When he tensed, she put her hand over his wrist. “I didn’t let myself.”
“I’m a guy. I let myself. Sometimes more than once on the same day.” He pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. “You’re blushing again.”
She was. Like crazy. But she was also laughing.
With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Kiss me.”
Lowering his head, he returned the embrace and slanted his mouth over hers. Gentle and then hard, demanding. She slipped her tongue between his teeth and savored the feel and taste of him. His hands moved down her back and held her firmly against him. The kiss deepened. She ran her fingers through his hair—for days she’d been afraid she’d done that for the last time—and pushed him against the side of her car.
“As much as I’d like to,” he said, nibbling her eyebrow, “we can’t do this here.”
“Why not?”
“Because, sexy temptress, the things I’m going to do to you aren’t intended for a general audience.”
Running her tongue along his jaw, she twirled a lock of his hair around her index finger. “What kind of things?”
He moved a hand between her legs. “Good things.”
Her brain flickered and went dark. She was done thinking for a while. “Sounds good.”
“Get your car later. Come on.” He clasped her hand and pulled her with him down the driveway to the street. “Mine is parked just a few houses down. A neighbor let me put it there.”
“Because of Trixie?” she asked, jogging after him.
“Because of Trixie.”
“She’s really something,” she said.
He stopped and twirled her into his arms. Moonlight lit up his face. “You’re the something. My something,” he said softly. “My everything.”
Her word was only a breath. “Oh.”
“I meant what I said at the house. I want to marry you and have babies and watch TV with the babies and maybe even learn how to play the piano.”
Was this really happening?
Shaking his head, he stroked her shoulder. “I’m going too fast. I’m scaring you. Forget I said anything.”
Belatedly, she found her voice. “Are you kidding? I’m trying to memorize every word. I’m afraid I’ll get it wrong when I tell my mom.”
He recoiled in mock alarm. “The future mother-in-law.”
“Stop that. When you ask me to marry you, if you do, make it really obvious that’s what you’re doing. Or if it’s me, I’ll do the same. Otherwise it doesn’t feel serious. It’s like we’re just joking around.”
He caught her up again in his arms and kissed her so hard she forgot her name.
An immeasurable amount of time later, he asked, “Did that feel serious?”
A siren wailed in the distance. The night breeze, picking up force, blew a strand of hair out of his eyes.
“Oh, yeah,” she said.
35
Holding hands, Sly and Cleo hurried to the next driveway, where his new red Volvo sat under an oleander bush. He opened the door for her, kissed her on the lips and the nose and the forehead, then again on the lips. They lingered for a moment and then finally broke away and jogged around to the driver’s seat.
After he’d started the car, he entwined his fingers in hers again and drove one-handed all the way through the narrow hairpin curves down to the flats, which would’ve made her nervous—their wheels came within inches of open air a few times—if she weren’t intoxicated with love, lust, and joy.
She’d been to his apartment many times, but he’d never greeted her at the door before with an openmouthed kiss as he unbuttoned his shirt. Then again, she’d never kicked off her boots and torn off her clothes before reaching the living room either. And she was pretty sure he’d never stroked her naked ass in the doorway to his bedroom while she moaned his name, unbuttoned his pants, and pushed down his boxers.
“Let’s move in together,” he said, kissing her collarbone. “Tomorrow works for me. I’ll clear my schedule.”
A phone rang somewhere. Her purse. They both ignored it.
“Your plac
e is almost as small as mine,” she said. “Not sure that’ll work.”
“Size is your only objection?”
Grinning, she reached between his legs. “Who’s objecting?”
“Good,” he said, his voice tight. He sucked her left nipple into his mouth. “We’ll move into the house near Trixie.”
“You have a house near Trixie?”
“I’ve always liked that area.” His breath was hot on her breast. “Not as much as this area, of course.” He caressed her ass. “Or this one.”
The phone paused ringing only for a moment before starting up again. Not appreciating the interruption, she pulled away from him. “Give me a second. I’ll turn it off.”
He reached for her. “Leave it. Just ignore it.”
“It’s distracting.”
“You’re distracting.” Hooking an arm around her waist, he rotated her back into his arms, kissing her in the doorway as the phone continued ringing.
Oh, it was good. He was good. She sank against him and ran her fingers through his hair. Eventually the ringing stopped. His knee pushed between her legs and she straddled his hard, strong thigh. The bed was on the other side of the small bedroom, under the window, but even that short distance seemed too far. He was ready, she was ready—
The phone started ringing again. Determined to deal with it this time, she pulled out of Sly’s arms and jogged to her purse on the floor near the front door with her abandoned clothes.
“I’m never going to get tired of looking at you,” he said behind her. “Coming or going.”
She shot him a saucy smile over her shoulder, then glanced at her screen as she felt for the power button. “Figures,” she said. “It’s my mother.”
He snatched the phone out of her hands. “Let me.”
The mischievous look on his face made her nervous. “Don’t you dare,” she said, lunging for it.
But he was already holding it to his head. “Hello, Dr. Lundquist. How are you doing?”
Desperately, Cleo tried to get the phone out of his hand, but he was too nimble and twisted out of range.
“Why yes, she’s right here, actually,” he said. “But she’s a little busy. Can she call you back later?”
Cleo punched him in the shoulder. Her mom was probably imagining the worst. Or the best. Either was annoying.
“We’re at my place. One of my places. I own a few properties, because of my long and stellar career in high tech, but I’m thinking it’s time to settle down.” He caught Cleo’s gaze and grinned.
She felt the blood drain out of her face. First the Johnsons, now her mother. On the phone. While she was standing there without any clothes on.
She punched him again. And then kissed him on the cheek. Because her emotions were mixed.
His tone suddenly became serious. “Better late than never,” he said, staring at her with those dark eyes.
There was a long pause.
“You were right.” He reached out and gently stroked his thumb over her cheek. “All along.”
Biting her lip, Cleo closed her eyes and imagined the conversation she’d have with her mother tomorrow. Are you sure he cares about you? Really, really sure? You’re not just fooling yourself because you want it so badly?
“Thanks,” he said. “Sounds good.” He hung up and set the phone on a hall table before turning to her with a smile.
“Aren’t you funny?” She turned and marched into the bedroom. “You can make it up to me with your tongue.”
Faster than she thought possible, he caught up to her and tackled her onto the bed. “I can do that.” Nuzzling her neck, he nibbled, sucked, and breathed into her ear. “Cleo.”
She stared at the ceiling. “I’m putting a password on my phone.”
“You should,” he said.
“‘Time to settle down,’” she said, quoting him.
“That’s right. She thought it was a great idea.”
“She said that?”
Caressing her hips, he dropped kisses along her collarbone. “You feel tense. Did it really bother you? Me talking to her?”
“I know what she’s going to say. She’s probably making notes right now, preparing for her session with me in the morning.”
“Really?” He rested on his side next to her, propping himself up on an elbow. His warm hand rested on her belly, no longer exploring. “You might be surprised.”
She pitched her voice low and soft, the way her mother did when she was in full-therapist mode. “Are you sure he cares about you the way you’d like him to care about you? Are you projecting the depth of your feelings on him?”
He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “That’s not what she said.”
“Of course not. She was talking to you.”
“Would you like to know what she said? Or are you enjoying your dark fantasy too much to hear the truth?”
“She told you I’d always loved you. You admitted that it took you a while to figure it out.”
“Nope,” he said.
“Nope? Please. That’s her mantra.”
“With you, maybe, but not with me,” he said. “I’ve never talked to her, just the two of us.”
“Fine. What did she say?”
“Oh, sure. Now you want to know.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing his hand to one side. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather watch TV tonight.”
He laughed and wrapped an arm over both of hers, kissing her hair. “We’ll do that after. If we’ve got any energy.”
Staying angry was impossible. He smelled too good. “All right, you win. What did she say?”
“I don’t know. Now I’m feeling kind of vulnerable.” He rolled onto his back and let out a loud, exaggerated sigh.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Maybe if you held me, I could manage it,” he said.
She flung an arm over his chest.
“Closer,” he said.
She added a breast and a thigh. “Better?”
“Very therapeutic,” he said, sliding his hand over her backside and stealing a kiss.
“You said, ‘You were right. All along.’ If that wasn’t about me, then what? Stock tips?”
“You’re so funny.” He traced her eyebrow with a fingertip. “I’ve never wanted to be with a woman—with anyone—as much as I want to be with you.”
It was hard to concentrate on the topic at hand when he derailed the conversation like that. She softened into his embrace.
“But I was slow to figure it out,” he said. “Like I told your mother. But she’d always known I had to be in love with you.”
Three long seconds later, she blinked. “What?”
“That’s when I told her she’d been right all along.” He held her face in both hands and gazed into her eyes. “I’ve loved you a long time. I love you now. And I’m going to keep on loving you. Like it or not.”
Her heart shut down for a moment, then rebooted with a vengeance. “She thought—she said—she knew—”
“Why are you surprised? You’re always saying she’s a mind reader.”
“But not about you, not—she’s never thought that—she’s never said anything like that—”
“Maybe she didn’t think you were ready,” he said. “That you needed more time to get over the divorce.”
“Me? I’m ready. It’s you who needed to be ready.”
He lifted himself on top of her and looked into her eyes. “I’m ready.”
“I can feel how you’re ready,” she said with a grin.
“Listen to me. I think your mother saw the obvious. Why else would I spend so much time with you for so many years? Either I was gay or I was waiting for you to wake up and throw yourself at me.”
She traced the dimple on his chin with the tips of her fingers. “Good thing you got tired of waiting and made the first move,” she said.
“Good thing you made a few moves of your own.”
“I’m ready to make a few more of those as soon
as possible,” she said.
“I’ll give you what you want. Because I love you.” He pressed his mouth to hers. The playful kiss turned into a deep, slow exploration. After a long minute, he lifted his face and gazed into her eyes. “I do love you, Cleo.”
“I love you too, Sly.”
“You mean that in a hot, sexy kind of way, right?” he asked. “Because I’m not talking about watching TV.”
“Very hot and sexy. But let’s be real—we’re also going to watch a lot of TV.”
“Not now though,” he said roughly, kissing her chin, her throat, her shoulder, her lips while his hands explored her body.
She smiled. “Not now.”
Epilogue
Four months later, Cleo and Sly stood in the driveway of a yellow house with an oversized blue door. That door was currently propped open by a cardboard box filled with sheet music. Other boxes, large and small, lined the tile foyer, spilling into the living room, kitchen, and master bedroom.
On the floor between all the boxes lay a dotted path of homemade peanut-butter-and-bacon dog biscuits. It trailed between the backseat of the red Volvo in the driveway to an extra-jumbo memory-foam dog bed resting in the living room. Next to the grand piano, which Sly had bought from a hotel in Carmel.
“You know you want those cookies,” Sly said to Mouse, who sprawled across the backseat with his head turned to one side, resting his chin on an enormous paw.
Wiggling past Sly, Cleo waved a fragment of cookie under the dog’s nose. “Mmm,” she said. But the plum-sized black nose didn’t even twitch.
“Give it up, buddy.” Sly stroked Mouse’s ears. “This is our new home now. We’re not going back to the condo.”
“The tile floor is nice and cool,” Cleo said, waving the cookie again. “You’ll love it. We know how you hate to be hot.”
Mouse let out a sigh. Flecks of drool dripped onto his paw.
Cleo echoed his sigh and dropped the cookie onto the driveway next to the others. They’d tried blasting opera first, but that hadn’t worked either. “Maybe we should call Hugo for advice.”
This Changes Everything (Oakland Hills Book 4) Page 25