Return to You

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