"Yeah. Of course Gran was involved in setting us up but apparently so was my father." She held up a champagne bottle. "A 1996 Cristal. Parker's champagne of choice."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," he said as it sank in.

"I can't believe you didn't suspect something was up. You were always the first to imagine complex plots when we were kids."

"But I've learned that things are usually simpler than they seem." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Not this time. Even your mom was involved." She pulled out a pack from the basket. "Sally's chocolate chip cookies."

"That can't be true. She warned me to stay away from you. Let me see." He took the bag of cookies and sniffed.

Olivia smirked. "Believe me now?"

"d.a.m.n."

"Sucks, doesn't it?" She grabbed a blanket, arranged it on the floor with one hand, and dropped the food basket on it before sitting next to it.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm eating."

"Right now?"

She shrugged and pulled out a sandwich. "I'm starving and it doesn't look like we're going to be let out of here any time soon. Want half? It's turkey and avocado."

He flashed back to the first grade when he lost his lunch in a bet against River Sheridan and Olivia offered him half of hers, much in the same way.

Only then it was peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly and she wore a cookie monster T-shirt with bell-bottom jeans instead of pants with thong panties underneath.

He plopped down next to Olivia and took what she offered. "Thanks."

They ate in silence. Olivia mostly avoided his gaze, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Oh man, he was in trouble.

Chapter Seventeen.

Why was he staring at her like that? Did she have avocado all over her face? Olivia surrept.i.tiously wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin she found in the basket.

No, he still watched her.

Refusing to let it unnerve her, she finished her half of the sandwich, pulled out a cookie, and rummaged through the rest of the basket while she nibbled on it.

At least Gran had stocked them up in style. There was an a.s.sortment of fruit, several more sandwiches, and some pastries. At the bottom were champagne flutes.

"Why not?" She picked up the wine bottle. Knowing this was her dad's contribution, did that mean Lainie bought it? The thought that Lainie could be a part of this and not say anything bugged her. A lot.

"Treat would approve," she said to distract herself as she peeled the foil off the top.

"Who's Treat?" Michael asked sharply, taking the bottle from her hands.

"A friend."

"Does Lurch know?" He popped the cork like he did it all the time.

"Stop calling him Lurch. His name is Rick." She shouldn't feel this inane smugness at his jealousy.

"I can't believe Rick would approve of his woman entertaining other men."

She really should tell him Treat was Eve's husband, but her shoulder devil prodded her into silence. "I'm my own woman, and Rick knows that." She pulled out the champagne flutes that were, of course, in the basket as well. "Though he might make an exception for you."

Michael grunted. "I'm not other men."

No, he wasn't. And-G.o.d help her-that was the problem.

He poured champagne into the gla.s.ses she held out. As he took one from her, his hand brushed hers. She cursed the goose b.u.mps that rose on her arms. She was tempted to take a swig to calm down but then remembered the last time she used wine as an anesthetic and set her gla.s.s on the floor after a chaste sip.

"That's it?"

"Maybe later."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She watched the muscular column of his neck as he swallowed and her mouth went dry. She crawled to the shelf. There had to be some bottled water somewhere.

"When do you think they're going to let us out of here?"

She looked up. If she didn't know better, she'd swear there was a touch of desperation in his voice. She must have imagined it. In the dim light of the lantern he looked exactly like what he was-a confident, virile, successful man.

Olivia frowned. "Why are you here?"

He glanced at her like she'd lost her mind. He drew it out slowly, like she was having a hard time understanding the concept. "To make a movie."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that. I mean, why Mill Valley?"

"You've asked this before."

"And I think it's time you gave me a straight answer."

"You think I haven't?"

"You always hated Mill Valley. I thought you'd cut off your nuts before you'd come back here."

"You're right." He chuckled softly. His laugh touched her deep inside where she hadn't been touched in a long, long time. He smiled ruefully. He lifted his knee and rested his arm in it. "I wouldn't have come back on my own volition."

"Well?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Your father cut me a deal. If I made 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 impa.s.sioned 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 c.r.a.p."

He sounded like a petulant boy and it made her grin. "Why do you say that?"

"They were typical Hollywood, happy-ever-after s.h.i.t."

"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 s.p.a.ce.

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 h.e.l.l he was doing. He only knew there was no d.a.m.n 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 s.e.xy 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 it?"