Return to You

past, especially when she found out how much he was
able to uncover. He downed the rest of his cold coffee, grimaced,
and crumpled the paper cup in his fist.
    It was a lot of circumstantial evidence. But
factor in one of the most powerful men in Hollywood, his estranged
daughter, her relationship with the hottest director in the
business, and the probability that she'd been pregnant with his
child...
    Rick shook his head. It added up to one
thing: a juicy tabloid story and a buttload of money for the person
who gave up the scoop.
    He couldn't let that happen. Olivia didn't
deserve that.
    The why was bugging him though. Elaine
Adams didn't have much of a motive. From what he gathered, she kept
to herself. She didn't have any large outstanding debts. In fact,
she had quite a bit of money saved up. Why would she be selling
trade secrets and gossip to the rags?
    Olivia said something that made Ms. Adams smile. He
blinked. She was actually pretty despite her lack of makeup and the
dumpy clothes she wore.
    What could make Ms. Adams beam like
that?
    He'd find out. That went without saying.

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    With a soft groan, Olivia cracked open her
eyes and looked at the clock. Seven o'clock. She groaned again, not
wanting to get up.
    Wait—it was Sunday, and the store was closed
on Sundays. She happily snuggled deeper into the covers.
    She was drifting off when a nagging,
rhythmic banging pulled her back into wakefulness. It came from the
window. Burying her head under the pillow, she squeezed her eyes
shut and willed herself to sleep.
    The banging persisted.
    Then the noise became louder.
    She shoved aside her covers and went to the
window. Pushing it open, she leaned out into the frigid morning
air. "What the hell is going on?"
    Two men looked up. She'd startled them—the
one with the hammer poised in the air brought it down on his finger
instead of the wood. The other one opened and closed his mouth like
a guppy. Both stared at her like deer caught in headlights.
    "Well?"
    The second one finally muttered, "We're
building this set."
    The movie. Of course. How silly of her not
to realize they'd be working on a Sunday—damn Michael and her
father.
    Giving the men the evil eye, she slammed her
window shut and climbed back into bed. Shivering, she covered her
head with the comforter, but she could still hear the
hammering.
    She growled and buried herself deeper. It
took another twenty minutes before she admitted to herself she
wasn't going to fall asleep again.
    For the second time that morning, she threw
the covers off and sat up. Resigned, she rubbed the sleep from her
eyes and climbed out of bed. She trod like a zombie out of her
room, following the scent of coffee to the kitchen.
    "Thank you, Gran," she said when she saw the
full carafe on the stove. Grabbing a mug, she poured herself a cup,
liberally laced it with brown sugar, and sat at the kitchen
table.
    Sipping, she decided she'd take a bath and
then have a picnic by the lake. She could sit in the sun and read.
Best of all, no one would disturb her down there. With a little
luck she'd manage it all without running into anyone. Gran was most
likely already gardening. Her father was probably off being a
mogul, with Michael at his beck and call.
    She didn't care, she decided as she got up.
As long as they both stayed far away from her. Especially
Michael.
    In the bathroom, she plugged the tub and
filled it with hot water, pouring a generous amount of bubble bath
into the stream. Stripping, she eased into the heat and turned the
tap off when the water level was high enough.
    She closed her eyes, trying to channel
peace, but thoughts of Michael intruded. Like how sexy he was now.
And intense. And how when he looked at her she felt like he was
thinking about licking every inch of her.
    "Stop thinking about him," she muttered to
herself, closing her eyes.
    The bathroom door opened.
    She opened her eyes. Michael stood in the
doorway, like he'd walked out of her fantasy and right into the
room.
    "I'm taking a bath," she said inanely. She
draped her arm across her breasts to hide herself from his avid
gaze.
    His gaze dropped to the tub. "Yes, you
are."
    Covering her breasts with one arm, she
pointed with the other. "Out."
    He leaned in the doorway. "Mae said I could
use the bathroom."
    "Pick another one."
    "But I like this one. It has a lot to
recommend." He walked in and sat on the closed lid of the
toilet.
    "Didn't I just tell you to get out?" she
asked