Happily Ever After Page 12

  Rachel shook her head. “He was wearing a pink G-string he’d stolen. So I lost the bet.” That part was true. “Mike made me apply for the Christmas elf job as a payment.” That, of course, wasn’t. She had merely paid for coffee on the next break.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Lillian asked.

  Rachel shook her feet, making the silver bells jingle. “Well, it’s embarrassing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Lillian stood and circled the table. She pressed against Rachel’s side, bent, and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot right below one of the pointy latex ears. “I think you’re cute.” She trailed her hands down the tight elf top.

  Rachel put down the fork, wrapped both arms around Lillian, and leaned into the caress. “What is it about you and costumes?” Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

  “It’s not the costume,” Lillian murmured. She kissed a trail down Rachel’s neck. “It’s the woman wearing it.” She straightened and looked down at Rachel. “You must be tired. How about we go to bed once you finish eating?”

  Suddenly, Rachel wasn’t tired anymore. She shoveled down the last of her pasta, stood, and took Lillian’s hand. “Oh, yeah, bed. Great idea.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this bed.” Lillian took up position by the side of the bed, blocking Rachel’s way.

  “That’s what you said last—” A sneeze interrupted Rachel. “Last night. I have to go to work, Lil.”

  “Not today. You’re running a fever.”

  Rachel felt her own forehead. It did feel a little warm to the touch. “It’s just because I’m sharing the bed with a hot woman.”

  Lillian laughed. “You’re a charmer, but you’re a very sick charmer.”

  A cough shook Rachel. She pressed both hands to her chest, feeling as if only her touch kept her lungs from bursting through her chest cavity. Sniffling, she sank back against her pillow.

  Lillian sat at the edge of their bed and looked down at her with a worried expression. “That’s one aggressive virus. You were fine last night, and now you’re as sick as a dog.”

  “It’s a killer strain from one of the kids,” Rachel mumbled from behind her tissue. “The parents lug their sick kid to the mall. They don’t want little Timmy to miss seeing Santa just because he has the flu or cholera or the plague.”

  Lillian chuckled and stroked Rachel’s cheek. “Poor darling. I’m pretty sure it’s not the plague or cholera, though.”

  Rachel leaned into the cool touch and didn’t answer.

  Sighing, Lillian got up. “I have to go to work. You.” She pointed at Rachel. “Stay in bed. Don’t try to go to work. You know I have my spies everywhere.” She arranged tea and half a dozen different medications on the nightstand, then pressed a feather-light kiss to Rachel’s forehead and left.

  Rachel let her burning eyes drift shut. I’m starting to think the fates have something against gay marriages. If things continue like this, it’ll take me until Easter to buy her the ring.

  Rachel glowered at the phone. “What do you mean—you don’t need me anymore?”

  The man at the other end of the line cleared his throat. “We had to fill your position since Santa was one elf short. I’m very sorry, but there was no other way. You’ll get paid for the two days you worked, of course, and we’d love to have you back as one of our elves next year.”

  Not even if Santa himself climbs down my chimney and asks me to work for him. Rachel said she’d be by to pick up her check and ended the call.

  Mike turned from where he’d watched the security camera in their office. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. Especially since now I can’t afford the ring I wanted for Lillian.” Rachel put her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands. So much for the magic of Christmas.

  Mike swiveled in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. “Maybe you should reconsider.”

  Rachel swept his feet off the desk, nearly making him fall out of his chair. “Reconsider? Never! Lillian is the woman I want to marry, and nothing is—”

  “Not about marrying her,” Mike said. “Just about the two-thousand-dollar ring. A large diamond might look impressive, but Lillian isn’t the type to wear a rock like that anyway, is she?”

  Rachel rubbed her chin. She isn’t, she silently admitted to herself. How embarrassing that her colleague, who was usually clueless about women, had to point it out. She glanced up at Mike. “Now what do I do?”

  “What kind of ring would you buy if you were in Lillian’s shoes?” Mike asked.

  “No idea.” Rachel wasn’t into jewelry. The only ring she owned was an old family heirloom. It had belonged to her grandmother. Her mother had never been married, but she had never sold the ring, no matter how tight money got, so Rachel had hung on to the ring too. It was the only thing she had left of her mother. Her eyes widened. “The ring!”

  Mike nodded. “That’s what we’re talking about.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I could give her my grandmother’s ring. You know how much family means to Lillian.” Yes, this feels right. It’ll tell her I want to share my life with her more than any diamond could. “Thanks.” She jumped up and rounded the desk.

  “Um, you’re welcome. Where are you going?”

  Rachel was already halfway to the door. “To the jeweler’s.”

  “The fork goes on the left and the knife on the right.” Rachel watched Tyler place the cutlery on the table. “Good job.”

  “Why are we using the good china?” Tyler asked. “It’s not Christmas yet.”

  Rachel started sweating beneath her silk shirt. All right, this is your chance. Ask the man in Lillian’s life for her hand in marriage. She had wanted to tell Tyler for days but had always put it off at the last moment. Was Tyler ready to accept her as his official stepmother? “No, it’s not Christmas. This is for a very special occasion.”

  Tyler tilted his head, looking so much like Lillian that it robbed Rachel of breath for a moment.

  She sucked in a lungful of air. Do it, coward. If she was this nervous about asking Tyler, she could only hope that she wouldn’t freeze when proposing to Lillian. She gave herself a mental kick and just blurted it out. “I want to ask your mother to marry me.”

  The kitchen timer ticked loudly in the silence between them.

  “But you don’t like wearing dresses,” Tyler finally said, his brow furrowed.

  Rachel laughed, and her lungs expanded as she could breathe again. “Not all brides have to wear dresses, Ty. I’ll leave that to your mother.”

  “Okay.” With that, the topic seemed to be closed for Tyler.

  “So you would be fine with having me as a stepmother?” Rachel asked.

  “Can you sign my permission slips then?”

  Rachel chuckled. At times, Lillian was a bit overprotective and hesitated to let him go to school activities she deemed too dangerous. “We’ll see.”

  A key rattled in the lock of the front door.

  “Mom’s home!” Tyler jumped up and down.

  “Okay, okay, calm down,” Rachel said. Christ, my voice is shaking. I better calm down too. But that was easier said than done. She hurried into the kitchen to throw one last glance at the romantic meal she’d prepared.

  Lillian’s steps approached from the hall and then faltered.

  Rachel looked up and into the blue eyes of the woman she loved.

  Lillian’s cheeks were red from the cold outside, and a snowflake clung to her lashes. It melted as she blinked. She craned her neck to glance at the stove, and then her gaze fell on the gift-wrapped little box on the counter next to Rachel. “You cooked? And I get a gift before Christmas? Wow. I must have been a really good girl this year. What’s going on?”

  “Rachel wants to marry you,” Tyler blurted.

  Heat shot up Rachel’s neck. She covered her face with her hands. Shit. I forgot to tell him that it’s gonna be a surprise.

  “She does?” Lillian looked from Tyler to Rachel, her eyes wide. “You do
?”

  Rachel nodded. “That wasn’t how I wanted to ask you, though. I wanted to spoil you with a relaxing bath and a home-cooked meal and then go down on one knee and—”

  “Give me a second.” Lillian rushed toward the bedroom.

  Rachel stood frozen and stared at her retreating back. “Um, Lillian, what…?”

  But before her insecurities could kick in, Lillian was back. She gestured at her fast-food-chain uniform and her hair that smelled of oil and French fries. “This wasn’t how I wanted to do this either, and I had planned to wait until Christmas, but…” She shrugged, went down on one knee, and presented a jewelry box that she had hidden behind her back. “I love you, Rachel. Two years ago, I didn’t think I’d ever look at another woman, but when I look at you, I want to share my heart and my life again. Will you marry me?”

  Shell-shocked, Rachel stared at the ring in the jewelry box.

  “I know you normally don’t wear rings, and this might not be—”

  Rachel went down on her knees next to Lillian and shut her up with a long kiss. “Yes. I will marry you.” She kissed her again. And again. She felt giddy, as if she wanted to hug the whole world but settled for hugging Lillian instead.

  “Gross,” Tyler muttered. “I’m going to play with my Beyblade till you’re finished with this.”

  When Rachel looked up, he had already disappeared into his room.

  “Guess we scared him off with all the kissing.” Lillian smiled.

  “He’ll just have to get used to it,” Rachel said. “Because I intend to kiss my wife every chance I get.” My wife. Oh, wow. She went to get the gift-wrapped box with her grandmother’s ring and handed it to Lillian. Her own hands shook too much.

  Lillian carefully peeled back the paper and opened the box. “Oh, Rachel. Is that…?”

  “My grandmother’s ring.” She put the ring on Lillian’s finger. It was a perfect fit. “I had it resized for you. I hope you don’t think that’s—”

  “It’s perfect,” Lillian said. She caressed the ring with the tip of her index finger.

  “I wanted to get you a diamond ring, but then I got sick and lost the job as a Christmas elf.”

  Lillian looked up from the ring and reached for Rachel’s hand. “That’s why you wanted that elf job so bad? To help pay for a ring?”

  Rachel nodded. “I’d do anything for you, even go from being a Christmas grump to being a Christmas elf.”

  Lillian lifted Rachel’s hand to her mouth and kissed the palm. Then she took the ring she had bought out of its box and put it on Rachel’s finger.

  The silver band held three tiny diamonds. In Rachel’s mind, they represented Lillian, her, and Tyler. “How could you afford this?”

  “I sold Maggie’s bike.”

  A big lump formed in Rachel’s throat. She curled her fingers with the ring into a fist. “Lil…”

  “It wasn’t like I would ever ride it. It was just sitting in the garage, gathering dust. I guess I was clinging to it because I…”

  “You weren’t ready to let her go for good,” Rachel said. She couldn’t say the name of Lillian’s late partner.

  Lillian nodded. “But now I am.” She stroked Rachel’s hand until Rachel unclenched her fingers.

  Rachel stared at the rings on their fingers and had to smile. Lillian is giving up her past while I’m sharing a piece of mine with her.

  The kitchen timer going off made them both jump.

  Rachel got to her feet and pulled Lillian up too. “Ready for dinner?”

  “Ready for dinner—and for the rest of our lives.”

  ###

  Dress-tease

  Lauren loved lazy afternoons in the cottage above Topanga Canyon. Holed up in Grace’s loft bedroom, she could pretend that they were the only people in the world and that Grace wouldn’t have to fly to England on Monday to start shooting her new movie.

  Crickets chirped outside, and a light breeze stirred through the open skylight, bringing with it the citrus scent of the shrub that bordered the backyard.

  Up here, they weren’t a publicist-turned-screenwriter and a world-famous actress who had outed herself on national TV a week ago; they were just Lauren and Grace. Nothing else mattered when they were here—no movies, no paparazzi, no script deadlines, just the two of them.

  Too bad they had to leave their sanctuary in about an hour to meet Grace’s hair-and-makeup artist and then head to the premiere of Nick’s new action film. This was one of the few times Lauren wished Grace hadn’t stayed friends with her ex-husband.

  Sighing, she sat on the edge of the bed, put on her wristwatch, and secured the cuffs of her white satin blouse.

  Downstairs, the bathroom door opened, and the tapping of Grace’s bare feet across the hardwood floor drifted up. “Are you okay?” Grace called.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’re coughing. You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Grace said, a hint of worry in her voice. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  Lauren shook her head, even though Grace couldn’t see it. “No. You know me. It’s just my little quirk when I’m tired. Certain activities have kept me up most of the night—and I’m not talking about my writing.”

  The ladder creaked as Grace climbed up to the loft. “Are you complaining?”

  “No. Never,” Lauren said and realized that her voice had dropped a register. She didn’t regret a minute she’d spent making love with Grace, even if it meant she’d fall asleep during the showing of Nick’s movie. Sometimes, she had a hard time believing that Grace returned her feelings.

  The first thing that appeared over the edge of the loft was Grace’s long hair, piled on top of her head and held there by a large claw clip; then the rest of her followed—covered by a towel that was knotted above her full breasts. A single blonde strand had escaped from the clip and caressed the nape of her slender neck.

  Lauren, who’d been about to stand up from the bed, sank back onto the mattress. Even after four months together, the sight of Grace’s half-naked body made her weak in the knees. Her gaze followed Grace as she strode past the bed and went to the closet built into one side of the loft.

  Grace rummaged through her wardrobe and selected a powder-blue silk dress—Lauren’s favorite. She held it out for Lauren to see. “Do you think this will do?”

  “Will do?” Lauren echoed. “It’ll blow their socks off.”

  “Let’s hope so. I need to look good today.”

  “You always do.” Lauren took in the shapely behind that peeked out from beneath the towel.

  “Maybe.” Grace sighed. “But it’s different now that the press knows about us. Every paparazzo in Hollywood will take about a million photos of Grace Durand and her lesbian lover.”

  Lauren swallowed around the lump lodged in her throat. As a former publicist, she had a lot of experience with the press, but so far, she had always been behind the camera, not in front of it. “I think we should—”

  Grace let her towel drop to the floor and stood in front of the closet completely naked. Sunlight streamed in through the skylight, making her skin—flushed with the heat from her recent shower—seem to glow.

  Lauren forgot what she’d been about to say as she stared at Grace. Her gaze tracked a single drop of water that ran down the long lines of Grace’s neck. God, does she have any idea how beautiful she is?

  When Lauren fell silent, Grace glanced over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow at her. “You think we should do what?”

  Go back to bed and forget about the premiere and the paparazzi. “Uh, never mind.”

  Grace stretched with feline sensuality and walked over to the dresser in the corner of the loft.

  Nearly hypnotized, Lauren watched the soft sway of her hips.

  Once Grace reached the dresser, she bent a little and opened one of the drawers, directing Lauren’s attention to her firm ass. Then she turned, her breasts swaying enticingly, and slipped a pair of dark red panties up first one long
leg, then the other. The smooth silk slid over her skin with a seductive slowness.

  Lauren’s mouth went dry. She leaned forward on the bed so she could take in every sensual detail.

  Grace swiveled back to the drawer and bent over it. When she straightened and turned, she held a strapless bra and slung it around her back with practiced ease. Her fingers moved slowly to the front clasp and closed it; then she cupped her own breasts, settling them into the cups.

  Heat swept through Lauren’s body. She had thought that nothing could be more erotic than watching Grace take off her clothes, but this reverse striptease was making her breath catch and her heart beat triple-time.

  The rustle of silk teased her senses as Grace lifted the off-the-shoulder dress over her head and let it slide down her body with excruciating slowness. Somehow, she managed not to get it tangled in the hair clip. The dress settled around her curves, cradling her like the hands of a lover, and Grace smoothed her palms over her hips. Every movement seemed to linger for a second longer than strictly necessary.

  Was Grace playing with her, putting on a show to tease her? Lauren wasn’t sure. Grace’s expression was innocent and self-absorbed, as if she was completely unaware of Lauren’s rapt attention, but then again, she wasn’t a three-time Golden Globe winner for nothing.

  The fabric stretched over her ample chest as Grace reached up. She took out the hair clip and set it on the dresser. Her long, blonde tresses cascaded onto her bare shoulders. Grace looked up and met Lauren’s gaze. Her full lips curled into a knowing smile, and there was a twinkle in her ocean-blue eyes.

  She knew exactly what she was doing. Tease.

  “Ready?” Grace asked.

  The low, intimate tone of her voice sent a shiver through Lauren. “Oh, yeah.”

  Grace quirked a smile. “I meant, are you ready to go?”

  Nothing was further from Lauren’s mind than leaving the cottage and having to share Grace with hundreds of fans and paparazzi. “It’s not your premiere. We could stay home.”

  “You know we can’t,” Grace said, regret obvious in her voice. “The media will make up all kinds of stories about Nick and me having a falling-out over my newfound sexual orientation if I don’t show up at his premiere. Zip me up?” She walked over to Lauren, a swing in her step, and presented her back.