Return to You (16 page)

Eve sighed. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I can read the writing on the wall. He's going back
to LA in a few weeks. I know this." She shrugged. "It doesn't mean
I can't have fun in the meantime."

"You don't want more?"

"I can't want more."

"Olivia, sometimes the heart doesn't listen to
logic." Her friend squeezed her hand and went to serve a
customer.

Leaving Olivia alone. She took another sip of her
latte, trying not to think about a past she couldn't change and
wishes that were never going to come true.

Chapter Twenty-three

Michael tapped his fingers on his thigh and stared
out the front window of Grounds for Thought. Down the street,
Olivia was in her store, playing with sexy underwear.

Okay, so he didn't know that for a fact, but he bet
that's what she was doing. He could see her setting out the little
bits of lace, smoothing out silky panties...

"Michael."

"Yeah?" Maybe he should go over there and help her
break into one of those jars of chocolate sauce. Chocolate tasted
killer on Olivia.

"Michael."

Fingers snapped next to his ear and he jumped.
Scowling, he looked across the table at Parker, who frowned
mildly.

"This is highly unlike you, Michael."

No kidding. But he couldn't seem to help it. He
combed his hair back with his fingers. "I'm just a little
tired."

Parker's frown deepened. "Trouble on the set?"

Only if you called a horny actress who threw herself
at you at every turn trouble. Not to mention a director who
couldn't keep his mind off his high school sweetheart. "Nothing I
can't handle."

"I can't stress how important it is for you to bring
this project in on time—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." His whole future hinged on
it.

The only glitch was the sooner he wrapped up the
movie, the sooner he'd get to go back to LA. Which meant the sooner
he'd have to leave Olivia again.

He harbored no delusions about the future. It wasn't
in the cards for him and Olivia to be together. But—damn it—he'd
like to enjoy as much of her as he possibly could.

"You're not yourself, Michael," Parker said.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I've never seen you this distracted. If you don't
think you can finish this project—"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you? You'd get to keep
your claws deep in me?" A light flipped on in his head. "That's why
we're here, isn't it?"

"Here?"

"Quit the act, Parker. You're setting me up to fail.
I knew there was a reason we had to shoot up here. You're using
Olivia as a distraction." As the implication of that hit him, he
felt something inside him seethe. "What kind of man are you that
you use your own daughter as bait?"

Parker didn't even bat an eye. "I think once you
calm down you'll be able to see reason."

"Fuck reason. I know I'm right."
Michael lowered his voice, conscious of the stares they were
attracting. He leaned across the table, staring into his boss's icy
pale eyes. "You're a bastard to do this to Olivia. Me, I can
understand. I'm just a commodity. But
Olivia
? Play your Machiavellian games
with me, Parker, I can give as good as I get. But stay away from
Olivia."

Parker cocked a brow at him. "You do realize she's
my daughter."

"I realize it. I just don't think you do." Michael
got up and strode out. He took a deep breath when he was outside.
The crisp fresh air was cleansing. It almost got the bitter taste
out of his mouth.

He needed to talk to Olivia. He needed to tell her
what her father was up to and break it off with her.

He reached into his pocket and rubbed her
locket.

He knew she'd hate to be a pawn, and frankly he
couldn't jeopardize his future. He'd fallen into Parker's trap. He
was so caught up with this thing with Olivia that he couldn't focus
on anything else, much less the movie.

He had to get free of Everett Parker. He knew she'd
understand that and why they couldn't see each other.

He crossed the street and opened the door to
Romantic Notions. He paused in the doorway, waiting for the
delicate fragrance of the store to hit him. Lavender? It seemed
more than that, simple and sweet but complex at the same time.

Like Olivia.

"This is a surprise."

Michael looked up to see Olivia gliding toward him.
She wore a tiny red leather skirt, her long luscious legs were
encased in sheer black stockings, and her black shirt had the top
few buttons undone. She stopped close enough to him that he caught
glimpses of the black lace underneath.

Closing his eyes, he prayed for strength.

He felt her hand on his arm. "Michael, are you
okay?"

Okay? He wanted to push her against the door, and
slide his hardening cock all the way into her. He wanted to hear
her gasp and laugh. He wanted to have the right to hold her hand
and kiss her whenever he wanted.

He opened his eyes and saw concern in her warm eyes.
He'd never noticed how rich and chocolaty they were. He should have
known that.

How was he going to tell her they had to call it
quits?

"Michael?" Her lips were the same red as her
skirt—deep, fuck me red.

"Aw hell," he muttered and gave in. He brought her
flush against him and lightly bit her lower lip before angling his
mouth to hers. She gasped into his mouth and melted against him,
her hand working its way under his jacket.

He released her just as abruptly. Her lipstick was
smeared and she gazed at him through lowered eyelids.

She cupped his jaw and rubbed around his mouth with
her thumb. "This shade of red just isn't you."

The huskiness of her voice made his gut clench. "I
don't know. I think it suits me."

She gave him a look he couldn't decipher and stepped
back. "I didn't think I was going to see you this morning. To what
do I owe the pleasure?"

He didn't know what caused her to draw away from
him, physically as well as emotionally, but he didn't like it. He
pulled her closer because he needed her there. "I missed you," he
said, surprised to realize it was true.

She thawed noticeably. "Don't you have to be on the
set?"

"I had a meeting between scenes."

Her brow furrowed. "Out here? Who was the meeting
with? Parker?"

This was the perfect opportunity to tell her. It was
practically an invitation to dump it out. All he had to do was open
his mouth and tell her they couldn't see each other anymore because
her father was manipulating them to ensnare him for the rest of his
creative life.

He opened his mouth and said, "Just a small issue.
It's not important."

Olivia smoothed the tension in his temples with her
fingers. "Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Thanks." He smiled, hating himself for not being
honest with her.

"I have to get back." She waved toward a customer in
the back, who was covertly gawking at them.

"Right. I have to get back to work too." He dropped
a kiss on her lips, lingering longer than he intended. "Have dinner
with me tonight," he whispered against her.

He loved the way her mouth curved under his.
"Okay."

"I don't know when I'll be done."

"Okay."

"And it's not like any restaurants in Marin will be
open that late."

She laughed softly. "I'll take care of dinner. Just
call me when you know what time you can come over."

"Wear this outfit." He brushed her cheek. "Later,
baby."

He exhaled deeply after he closed the door behind
him. That didn't go exactly as he'd envisioned. He looked back at
Romantic Notions. Parker knew his quarry. Michael was royally
screwed.

Chapter Twenty-four

Hands on her hips, Olivia glared at the clock. Where
was he? She paced her room, careful not to tread on top of the
picnic she'd laid out on the floor.

Pathetic. She dropped onto her bed. Here she was,
still wearing her work clothes, waiting for some guy she didn't
trust to show up.

Okay, he wasn't just some guy. He was the love of
her life.

"Former love of my life," she corrected herself.
This fling was going to cure her of their past.

And—damn it—she wasn't waiting any longer. Bending,
she plucked a grape from the picnic and began to unbutton her
blouse.

The window slid open and Michael's head popped in.
"You're late," she said curtly.

"I know. And you're angry, but I'll make it up to
you." He swung his leg over the frame and closed it when he was all
the way in. "Nice outfit."

She crossed her arms across her chest.

He strode to her, took her in his arms, and dropped
a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had a good
reason."

"What?"

Michael dug in a jacket pocket. "I needed to stop to
get this. You wouldn't believe the trouble I went through to get
it. I thought it'd be an easy stop at the drugstore but I had to
stop at four stores before I found what I was looking for."

She looked at the hand he held out. Nestled on the
center of his palm was a small yellow duck.

"Your rubber ducky." Michael smiled at her but it
was tentative and reminded her of the Michael of her youth.

"A rubber ducky," she repeated.

"For your baths."

"I gathered."

"I got this too." He pulled out a small mason jar
from another pocket. He didn't make a move to touch her, but the
heat from his eyes was more tangible than any touch would be.
"Chocolate sauce. I craved dessert."

Her smile widened into a grin. Taking the two steps
to close the distance between them, she put her hand on the nape of
his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, and kissed him
soundly.

She heard the soft thump of the jar dropping onto
the bed and in the next second his arms were around her, holding
her as if he never wanted to let her go.

He lifted his head. "Not angry at me anymore?"

"Depends." She nuzzled his neck, her lips lingering
over the spot where she could feel his heart beating so
strongly.

"On?"

"How good the chocolate is."

He grinned and steered her until the backs of her
legs hit the bed and she toppled backwards onto it. "I think the
chocolate is going to be the best you've ever had."

"That sure, are you?"

"Damn right, baby."

She loved the way he ate her with his eyes. She
scooted back and stretched. Crossing her legs, she wiggled her foot
to draw his attention to her high heels and stockinged legs. She'd
never figured out why men loved stockings and heels so
much—probably because they didn't have to wear them—but she'd
gladly use them to her advantage.

She moaned as he slipped off her shoe and rubbed her
foot. His thumbs worked out the tightness from wearing the shoes
for too long.

She moaned again. "Heaven."

He moved on to her other foot. "We might have to
make you more comfortable before I go on."

"I'm yours to command."

"I never have a tape recorder when I need one."

"Don't push your luck." She prodded him with her
foot. "More."

"Exactly."

She watched his hands as they unbuttoned her dress
shirt. He did it slowly, drawing it out until she waited for each
button to pop open with her breath held. His hands never brushed
her body. Her nipples tingled with need and she had to keep herself
from arching up to make him touch her. "Are you doing that on
purpose?"

"What?"

"Trying to drive me crazy."

"Is it working?"

"Hell yes."

"Good." He pushed her shirt open, running the back
of his hand down her neck to the top of her breasts and then down
her abdomen to brush over her lacy thong. "There are advantages to
owning a lingerie store, aren't there?"

"I have an arsenal, and I'm not afraid to use
it."

"Thank God for that," he said fervently before he
peeled the bra straps down her arms. "Help me with this."

She reached behind her and unsnapped it. He pulled
it off her and tossed it across the room. Her panties quickly
followed.

Olivia lifted her right leg to roll her stockings
down but Michael's hand stopped her. "No. Leave that."

She raised her brow but didn't argue. She was much
more intrigued with what he was going to do with the chocolate in
the jar he'd retrieved and was unscrewing.

She arched when she felt his fingers drag down the
center of her chest. She caught her breath as he added dobs on top
of each nipple. Each deliberate stroke chocolate stoked the fire
he'd started with the first kiss.

Olivia gasped, clutching the comforter under her. "I
don't know how much more of this I can take."

"I can stop."

"I'm not sure that would be any less painful."

"Then how about if I do this." He bent his head and
licked up her belly all the way to her neck, following the line of
chocolate he'd painted on her. "Delicious," he murmured against her
throat.

"I'm going to die." She groaned and speared her
fingers in his hair as he laved a particularly sensitive spot on
her throat.

He chuckled. "You always did love that."

She did? He did it again. Yep, okay, she believed
him. Even if she couldn't remember.

He dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth,
sucking until all the chocolate had to be dissolved and gone and
then sucking some more. It felt like an eternity before he moved
onto her other nipple, which was taut and begging for his
attention.

"My turn." She lifted her hips and rolled him over
so she was on top.

"But this is my fantasy."

"Deal with it." Reaching for the jar, she dipped her
index finger inside and smeared a long line down his cheek to his
mouth and throat. She paused, staring at the spot under his ear
where his pulse beat and wondered if he'd be as sensitive there as
she was.