Return to You

this movie, following his
every dictate, he'd let me out of my contract."
    "I hope you got that in writing." Parker was
devious.
    "Of course. Your father's devious."
    She smiled. "Why do you want out of your
contract?"
    He stared at her like he was debating how
much to tell her. Finally, he said, "I want more."
    He glanced at her like he expected her to
say something. When she waited silently, he continued. "You know
how I always wanted to direct?" She nodded. "Well, I should have
been more specific."
    "How do you mean?"
    "I don't want to make any
movie." His impassioned voice stirred her blood, just like it used
to when he spoke about something he really cared about. "I want to
make art. I want people to walk away from my work and think . I want them to be
affected."
    "You're not accomplishing this with what
you've been doing?"
    "The last few movies I've made have been
crap."
    He sounded like a petulant boy and it made
her grin. "Why do you say that?"
    "They were typical Hollywood,
happy-ever-after shit."
    "I'm sure they were more than that." Sure
they were commercial, but they were skillfully made and the
direction was superb. Not that she'd tell him that. No sense in
inflating his King Kong sized ego.
    "Have you seen any?"
    All of them. "I think I caught one."
    "What did you think?"
    "You're talented, Michael. You know that."
Before he could reply, she asked, "So why can't you make the movies
you want at Parker Pictures?"
    "I'm indentured. I make what's given to me."
He held his hand out. "Don't get me wrong. Without Parker I
wouldn't be where I am now. I'd probably still be struggling to get
my foot in the door. But I'm ready to move on."
    She nodded. "You'll do it. You always
accomplish what you set out to do."
    The way he stared at her bothered her in a
warm, squishy kind of way. He reached out and coiled a lock of her
hair around his finger. "You've always believed in me."
    She laughed, and even to her ears it sounded
nervous. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let her.
    "I've missed you, Olivia." His voice was low
and raw, like it pained him to admit it.
    She opened her mouth, ready
to make a sarcastic retort, but she couldn't. Gran's words came
back to her. You need to move
on.
    He tugged on her hair. She was so close to
him. She could feel heat from his lips. She knew how they'd feel on
hers, scorching and persistent and so right. She knew how they'd
make her feel—breathless, like she was falling through space.
    Michael lowered his mouth to hers.
    She wanted to protest. She wanted to grab
him and eat him alive.
    Moving on didn't mean going backwards. She
shouldn't do this.
    That was her last thought before his lips
touched hers and she was lost.
     
     

Chapter Eighteen
     
     
    Michael didn't mean for it to happen. In
fact, even as his tongue played hide and seek with Olivia's, he
wondered what the hell he was doing. He only knew there was no damn
way he was stopping.
    She tasted delicious—sweet and rich. The
taste of chocolate lingering on her lips was erotic. He'd never be
able to face chocolate chip cookies again without getting hard.
    He speared his fingers into her hair at the
nape of her neck and tilted her head. His left hand wrapped around
her ribcage, high enough so it brushed underneath her breast.
    "Wait." She pulled back—not completely but
too much as far as he was concerned.
    Her lips glistened, her chest heaved, and
her hand rested on his abs, wreaking havoc with his control.
Logically, he knew it was miles away from the danger zone, but the
one-eyed monster down there refused to believe it. "What is
it?"
    "Shouldn't we talk?"
    "We've been talking." He moved his left hand
till his fingers traced the curve of her breast just above her
bra's wire.
    Her eyes became more unfocused. She licked
her lips and asked in a sexy rasp, "I mean, shouldn't we straighten
things out first?"
    "First?" He nuzzled her jaw, down her
neck.
    Her head fell back and she moaned—long and
low. "Michael, I have something to tell you."
    "What?" Without removing his lips, he eased
her back onto the blanket.
    Suddenly he was back in time. It was her
sixteenth birthday and they were having a picnic. Just like it was
yesterday, he remembered the look on her face when he gave her the
locket and told her how much he loved her.
    He raised his head and looked down at her.
She wasn't anything like the girl he left eleven years ago. A woman
of action. Sultry... He shook his head.
    She licked her lips. "What is