Return to You (6 page)

Shrugging, Eve said a little too casually,
"Couldn't say really."

Olivia was about to pry it out of Eve when
the front door opened and Rick strode in.

"Ladies." He put an arm around Eve's
shoulders and kissed her cheek. He turned to Olivia and stopped
short. "You look terrible."

"No wonder you don't have a
girlfriend. Don't you know that you don't
ever
tell a woman she looks
terrible?"

"Even if it's true?"

"Especially then."

Rick cocked an eyebrow at Eve, who said,
"She had a rough night and an even rougher morning."

"I see." He surveyed Olivia thoroughly, his
PI eyes probably taking in signs of strain she didn't know were
there. "Is this about that guy yesterday?"

"No," she said firmly

He looked at Eve again. Eve nodded.

"I see. But something else
must have happened," he said. She wasn't
that
upset yesterday."

"Her father came back too."

"I see."

Olivia wanted to growl. "Will you stop
saying that?"

"Well, as fun as this has been, I've got to
get back to the cafe." Eve hugged Rick and gave Olivia a long look.
"Call me."

"Thanks for the coffee. You saved my
life."

"That's what friends are for." With a
parting smile, she left.

Olivia turned to Rick with
an arched brow. "Don't
you
have someplace you have to be?"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Not really."

She would have rolled her eyes but that'd
hurt her head, so she grunted and concentrated on her latte. Maybe
if she ignored him long enough he'd leave.

No such luck.

"I didn't know you had a father," he said
casually.

"Everyone has a father."

"But not everyone studiously avoids talking
about him."

She shrugged. "Maybe I have nothing to say
on the subject."

"That'd be a first." Rick stroked his chin,
staring at her in careful consideration. "I'm going to end up
getting it out of you."

"Can't we just drop this?" she asked
plaintively.

"Okay," he agreed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. That was too
easy.

"Have dinner with me. I was going to suggest
tonight, but I think you need to go straight home after work and
get some rest. How about tomorrow?"

"Are you thinking that plying me with food
will loosen me up enough to talk? Because it won't."

The front door opened. A woman hesitated in
the doorway before coming in.

Olivia put on a proprietor's smile. "Can I
help you with anything?"

"No, I just wanted to look around." The
older blonde wore a fitted suit and had her hair in a tight twist.
She clutched a purse in one hand and a leather portfolio in the
other.

The woman didn't look like the kind of
person to indulge in sensual underthings but Olivia knew you
couldn't judge a book by its cover. "Let me know if I can
help."

"Have dinner with me tomorrow," Rick said
again when she returned her attention to him.

"You're not going to take no for an answer,
are you?"

A grin was his reply.

"Fine. Dinner tomorrow." She frowned.
"You're not cooking, are you?"

He raised a hand to his chest in mock
outrage. "I can't believe you're insulting my culinary
talents."

She snorted. Rick had to be one of the worst
cooks ever. She was nothing to write home about, but Rick could
wipe out a whole village with his cooking.

"To think I was actually going to rent a
chick flick for after dinner. Something in black and white."

"A chick flick?" She raised her brows in
exaggerated surprise. "Are you trying to get some?"

He shrugged. "Is it working?"

The front door opened again, interrupting
her comeback. Gwendolyn breezed in, a colorful flurry that was
painful to look at in her current, hung-over condition.

"Hey Olivia! I had the greatest idea."

Olivia winced. The last time Gwen had the
"greatest idea" she'd wanted to put a 30-foot, inflatable gourd on
top of her building. It'd taken Olivia and Eve several days to
convince her that wasn't the look she wanted to associate with her
store—not in Laurel Heights, where the patronesses were all about
elegance and rich luxury, not kitsch.

Before Olivia could say anything, Gwen
gasped and froze in her steps, glaring at Rick.

Olivia glanced at Rick, who'd also gone
completely rigid, his arms folded across his chest, glaring right
back at Gwen.

Interesting.

Rick leaned over the counter and kissed
Olivia lightly on the mouth. "Tomorrow night, babe."

With another frown at Gwen, he left.

"I don't know how you stand him." Gwen shook
her head, and her mop of curly brown hair bounced frenetically. It
had orange highlights this week.

One day she'd have to do something about
Gwen and Rick—when she felt normal again. "What's this great
idea?"

"I have an idea for a new series. It's going
to be so great. I thought I'd have an grand evening showing to
launch it. Like New York galleries with champagne and all."

Olivia pursed her lips. Actually, there
didn't seem to be anything wrong with that idea. "What's the new
series? The tribal theme you did last was beautiful."

"I thought I'd do a deadhead theme.
Gourds—deadheads. Get it? Kind of a tribute to Jerry Garcia." Gwen
tapped a finger to her lips in thought. "I wonder how hard it is to
tie-dye a gourd?"

"I have no idea."

"Anyway, maybe you and Eve could help me
brainstorm. I thought we could have a girls' night. I'll supply the
cheese and wine."

Olivia grimaced. "I'll pass on the wine, but
I'm up for a girls' night."

"Groovy." Gwen rubbed her hands together.
"I'll go ask Eve. I wanted to see if she could make gourd-shaped
petit fours for my gala opening too." She turned with a vague wave
and walked out.

Relieved at not having to deal with Gwen's
crazy inspiration, Olivia looked for the customer. She was in the
corner, fingering a scarlet demi bra that would go beautifully with
her milky pale skin.

She needed to play the helpful shopkeeper.
Easing off her stool, she tested her balance. Not bad. With a small
amount of luck, she might make it to closing time.

She glanced at the time and sighed. Luck and
that large bottle of aspirin Eve brought her.

Chapter Seven

Elaine Adams absently stroked the red lace,
her attention focused on the people across the store. It was all
she could do not to stand there and stare.

Olivia was absolutely striking.

She didn't know what she imagined the young
woman would look like. Attractive certainly, given her father's
handsome looks, but Lainie hadn't expected barely tamed
wildness.

It made her wonder if Everett had any of
that in him.

She winced.
Mr. Parker.
She shouldn't
think of him as Everett. Unseemly considering she was his executive
assistant. No one ever called him that.

The tall, sexy man bent and kissed her
boss's daughter. Was he her boyfriend? They certainly looked
close.

"Tomorrow night, babe," the attractive man
promised Olivia.

Lainie watched him stride out the store. A
dinner date. At his house. With a movie. He must be a boyfriend. Or
at least a contender.

Covertly, she watched Olivia talk to her
gypsy friend. She told herself it was natural to be curious. She
hadn't known Olivia existed until last night before dinner—and
she'd been working for Everett for seven years.

Only years of training kept her from showing
her surprise when she found out the girl in the photo hidden in
Everett's desk was his daughter. Calmly, she'd filed away that
tidbit of information.

She shouldn't have been surprised. The girl
in the photo did have some resemblance to Everett. What she didn't
understand was why he kept the picture hidden. And why Olivia never
called. And where Olivia's mother was.

Lainie looked down, startled to see she was
crushing the bra in her fist. She let go and smoothed out the soft
fabric.

"You'd look fabulous in red."

Lainie looked up. Goodness, Olivia was tall.
She never considered herself short, but even in her practical heels
she stood a few inches shorter than Olivia.

Up close, she could see signs of strain that
hadn't been apparent across the room. She wondered if it was
because Olivia had no makeup on. Not that she needed it.

Lainie would have killed for lashes like
that.

Everett's daughter watched her
inquisitively, and Lainie realized she was staring. She cleared her
throat. "Do you think so?"

"With your creamy skin, definitely. That bra
will look dynamite on you."

For the first time, Lainie gave the lingerie
her full attention. It was the kind of underwear a confident woman
would wear—one who knew her seduction would be welcome. That wasn't
her. She fingered the scarlet lace longingly. "I don't know."

"If I were you, I'd pick the red, but I have
a lovely charcoal gray set over here that you may prefer." She
strode across the room. Caressing the red bra one last time, Lainie
hurried after the younger woman.

"Here it is." Olivia triumphantly held up
the bra.

It was beautiful. Charcoal silk accented
with a touch of ash gray lace. Lainie reached out to touch it. So
soft.

"Try it on."

She hesitated.

"There's no obligation to buy. Pretend
you're at a friend's house, trying on her clothes." She guided
Lainie to a dressing room, draped the bra on a chair, and left.

Lainie gazed at the bra uncertainly. It was
so unlike the functional underwear she wore. She wasn't the type of
woman who wore fancy things.

But it couldn't hurt to try it on.

Slowly, she shrugged out of her suit coat
and the white man-style dress shirt. She made a face at her plain
white bra and dropped it on the chair before reverently picking up
the gray one.

"Oh my," she whispered after she put it
on.

"How are you doing in there? Did I give you
the right size?"

"Yes. It's perfect."

"May I see?" Before she could say anything,
Olivia came in.

" You need to have it," Olivia decreed. "It
makes your gray eyes look stormy and mysterious. I'll let you get
dressed."

Overwhelmed, Lainie reluctantly stripped out
of the bra and put her own staid clothes back on.

Olivia was waiting for her outside. "You
need to have it. I'll give you thirty percent off the price."

There was something in her tone that made
Lainie aware the shopkeeper was interested in more than just a
sale. She looked into her dark gaze. The eye color was different,
but Lainie bet Olivia could see into a person as clearly as Everett
could.

"I'll take it," she said finally. "But I'll
pay full price." It wasn't like she couldn't afford it. Being the
executive assistant for the most powerful producer in Hollywood was
demanding, but she was well compensated.

As Olivia rang her up, Lainie said, "You
have a lovely store."

Olivia smiled. "Thank you."

Handing over her credit card, she cleared
her throat. "Um, your mother must be so proud of you."

She regretted the question as she watched
Olivia's smile fade.

"My mother died when I was five, but I'm
sure she would have been proud," Everett's daughter said,
subdued.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother."

"It was a long time ago. This is the first
time you've shopped at Romantic Notions. How did you hear about
us?"

"I overheard my boss mention your
store."

"Does your boss shop here?"

"Well... No." She winced. "To be honest, I
work for Parker Pictures. I'm Everett Parker's assistant."

Olivia's lips thinned and her warm eyes went
stone cold. "Did he send you here to check out the store?"

"
No
. No, of course not." She'd
suspected things weren't right between Everett and his daughter,
but not this bad. "It was all me. I was curious. I'll be staying at
your house for the next few weeks and I didn't know what you'd
think, and—"

Olivia interrupted her. "It's okay."

"Is it?"

"Yes." Holding out her hand, she said, "I'm
Olivia."

She shook Olivia's hand. "Lainie Adams." She
blinked in surprise. She'd never introduced herself as Lainie
before. She only called herself that in private.

Olivia handed her a fancy little bag. "I
hope you enjoy this."

"Thank you." Lainie smiled and turned to
leave.

Olivia stopped her. "Wait a minute."

Puzzled, Lainie watched Olivia stride to a
table. It looked like she was searching for something. With a faint
"Ah ha" the young woman came back, a gray scrap of cloth in her
hand.

"For you." Olivia held up matching panties
and stuffed them in the goodie bag.

"Oh, but I couldn't—"

"Please. I want to."

Lainie stared at the bag in her hand. When
was the last time she'd been given a gift just because? Never.

Confused, she muttered "thank you," and
left.

Still dwelling on Everett's daughter, she
didn't realize the time until she got back to her car. She was late
for a meeting with Everett and Michael.

Pushing aside thoughts of Olivia, she
focused on navigating the unfamiliar streets. Meetings between
Parker and Michael never went smoothly. They were both too used to
getting their own way.

There was no sign of Michael's car when she
arrived at Pembroke Farms. Sighing in relief, she hurried into the
house. She'd have a chance to compose herself before the
meeting.

She opened the front door. It was apparently
never locked, which was strange to her, having lived in Los Angeles
all her life.