"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she mumbled, rifling through cellophane to get to the merchandise inside.

The sad part was that she'd have followed him to the ends of the earth if he told her he wanted her.

But he didn't.

"I was so stupid." She ripped the plastic wrapping off the merrywidow.

It'd taken her years to get over Michael. She wasn't going to make the mistake of getting suckered by his charisma again.

She dropped the corset on the counter and attacked the wrapping on the next one, shuddering as she remembered the despair she felt when Michael left her.

But things turned out for the best. She'd gone to Paris and, after two weeks of wandering the streets aimlessly, met Ca.s.sis de Bonneville. The owner of an upscale lingerie shop, Ca.s.sis hired her as a clerk and taught her everything she knew about lingerie.

After five years in Paris, Olivia came back to California with a dream: to start her own business. Her store wouldn't just sell underwear-her store was going to sell romance.

Olivia grinned and looked around. She'd done it too. Romantic Notions had been open for six years, and it'd done phenomenally. She sold higher end lingerie, accessories, and what she called romance enhancers-candles, body lotions, and games. She also had a stash of toys in the back that she offered her more adventurous customers.

She hardly lived in a void anymore. Between her successful business and good friends like Eve and Gwendolyn, she had a full life. And her Granny Mae loved her, even if she did nag her to death more often than not.

She didn't lack for anything.

Except for s.e.x.

"I'm not even going to venture there." She scooped up her shipment of merrywidows-appropriately named, because any woman who was without a man had to be pretty d.a.m.n jolly-and carried them to a display table she'd cleared earlier. She arranged them, fanned out, larger sizes on the bottom.

She touched the black lace on the corset. She, of course, had several drawers dedicated to underwear of all shapes and textures. Still she always coveted the new merchandise. She'd justify buying more for herself if she had a boyfriend.

She hadn't had a steady boyfriend in-well, longer than she'd care to admit. The last man she'd dated with any regularity was in France. She dated some casually, but mostly to keep Gran off her back. She'd met some interesting men in the city, but no one who held her attention for that long.

Like Rick. She'd met him through her friend Eve, and they'd tried dating. She loved Rick. He was fun to hang out with and she felt comfortable with him. But both of them quickly realized that, while they were great friends, moving their relationship into physical territory wasn't going to work. Rick was hot, but they didn't have chemistry.

She missed s.e.x-a lot-but she missed companionship even more. There was something about going home after a grueling day of selling push-up bras, lying on the couch with your feet in your lover's lap, and having him ma.s.sage them while you told him about the evil person who cut you off on the freeway.

Seeing Michael today punctuated how much she missed that close bond. When he'd left her, she lost not only her boyfriend and lover but her best friend too. Losing her confidante was almost more painful than losing her love.

She breathed deeply. No sense in dwelling. The past was over. She'd made a fresh start, and she wasn't going back. She was no longer the insecure, clingy girl of eleven years ago.

The best course of action was to avoid Michael completely. Striding to the other box, Olivia resolutely unpacked matching thongs and garter belts. She didn't want him. Even if the woman she was now found him more attractive than he was back then.

Hot d.a.m.n, she was s.e.xy.

It'd taken every ounce of restraint not to fall to his knees and lap at the belly b.u.t.ton ring her T-shirt left uncovered. Or to kiss the flesh exposed by her over-the-knee socks, which ended well below the hem of her mini skirt.

Standing on the corner of the main drag, Michael raked his hair back and took a deep breath to get himself under control. It'd been a long time since he'd gotten hard just by looking at a woman. He just wished it wasn't Olivia who inspired it.

He wasn't kidding when he said she'd changed. She'd always been pretty but he'd never imagined she would become so blatantly scorching. Her five-foot-nine body was sleek with tapered muscles where it'd once been soft. Her mahogany hair, with its thick blond streaks, was longer and wilder. And she wore a tiny diamond stud at her nose.

He watched a car go by and tried not to wonder if she had more than the two piercings.

He would have expected her dark brown eyes to be the same, but they weren't. They used to show her every emotion-now they held mysteries he wanted to unravel.

"Too complicated," he mumbled, fingering the locket in his pocket. He didn't need more complications in his life. He needed to focus on attaining his freedom.

He looked both ways, crossed the street, and headed for Grounds for Thought, where he was meeting his mom.

He let himself in and froze, overcome by the homey aroma of chocolate chip cookies. It reminded him of snagging warm cookies after school. He glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting to see Olivia tagging along, just like she did back then.

Of course, she wasn't. He'd taken care of that by breaking up with her.

But it wasn't like she came after him. If she'd loved him, wouldn't she have tried to reach him in LA?

Besides, she just made her feelings abundantly clear. And she was apparently seeing that Lurch look-alike.

He scowled.

The cafe was packed. People occupied most of the seats, some reading, some chatting with friends. Not seeing his mom, he walked up to the counter and got in line. There was a pet.i.te, blond woman slinging coffee behind the bar. She was pretty in a shiny, sophisticated way. He watched her as she made people's drinks, admiring the sure, economic way she moved.

When it was his turn, she smiled at him and said, "What can I get you?"

"Coffee and an Earl Grey tea," he ordered. He leaned against the counter, eyeing the pastries. On impulse, he added, "And a cookie."

The blonde rang him up. "Have a seat and I'll bring it to you."

He smiled his thanks and headed to a nook in the front corner, near the window.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son. Returning to the scene of the crime?"

Michael turned around as his mother Sally walked over to him. "The only crime is how good you look, Ma," he said as he gathered her in his arms and lifted her in a big hug.

It'd been a couple years since she'd come down to see him. He pulled back to look at her, surprised at how good she did look. She was glowing and looked younger than he remembered. She was even dressed differently. She wore a long patchwork skirt and a gypsy-type peasant blouse.

"You're stunning," he said, meaning every word. He kissed her on each cheek, holding her hands in his own.

She harrumphed, blushing lightly. "If you think a few compliments are going to make up for all this time, you're in for a reality check."

He laughed. Oh, yeah, this was his mother. "Ma, I missed you."

"I missed you too, Michael." She pulled him close, cupped his face, and kissed him. And then she pulled back and socked him in the arm. Hard.

"Hey." He rubbed his bicep. Man, she had a mean right hook. "What was that about?"

She propped her hands on her hips. "Eleven years have gone by, Michael. This is the first time you've come back since you left and you couldn't call me to give me more notice?"

"I wasn't sure when I'd arrive."

"And you're probably leaving just as suddenly."

"Actually, I wanted to see if it'd be okay if I stayed with you for a while."

A smile lit her eyes. "Of course it is. You can have your old room. How long can you stay? A week?"

He cleared his throat. "I have some business in town and I'll probably be staying longer than that."

"Longer?"

He nodded.

"How much longer?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a couple months."

She slugged him again.

"Ow." He covered his arm. "What was that for?"

"For taking me for granted." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Did you think you could just waltz back here and I'd take you back in a blink of an eye?"

This conversation sounded eerily familiar.

She continued. "I have a life too. Did you ever think you'd be cramping my style?"

Cramping her style? He frowned. "I didn't mean to take you for granted. I can find someplace else to stay."

"Idiot. You'll stay at home." She kissed his cheek, but her eyes narrowed as she sat in the chair he pulled out for her. "Why are you coming back for so long? What about work?"

"I'm shooting a movie in Marin."

"Oh." She perked up as though it was a pleasant surprise.

"We're shooting it at Pembroke Farms."

"Oh." His mom grimaced. "And Olivia is okay with that?"

"She doesn't really have a choice." Parker made sure neither of them did. "She owns a lingerie shop down the street now."

"Yes, I know." At his surprised look, she shrugged. "Why did you think I wanted you to meet me here? I planned to stop by Romantic Notions after. I have a hot date and I wanted to pick up something new."

"Ma." He grimaced at the visual.

His mom was still laughing when the blonde delivered their drinks. She chatted with them for a moment before giving them their privacy.

Maggie waited until they were alone and then pointed a stubby finger at him. "You stay away from that girl."

"My own son doesn't have the sense of a pigeon. You weren't here to see how you hurt her. That girl doesn't need you messing with her life, not now that she's doing so well." She eyed him suspiciously as she stirred honey into her tea. "Why did you pick the farm to shoot your movie? Aren't there other farms? Other towns? I thought you said you were never stepping foot here again."

The fierceness of her warning shocked him. He picked up the coffee mug and blew on it to cool it down. "What? No concern about your own son?"

"I wasn't, but Parker wanted it shot here."

"Everett Parker." Maggie practically spat his name out. "Good thing he isn't here too. Olivia will have enough to deal with having you here, much less her father."

"Guess again."

"d.a.m.nation."

He smiled dryly. He couldn't have put it better himself.

Chapter Four.

Olivia turned onto the dirt road that led to Pembroke Farm, sighing in relief as soon as her home came into view.

It'd been a grueling day, and she had Michael to thank for it. Like a bad song he stuck in her head, and she hated it.

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

She turned left at the fork in the road and eased her car up the pitted driveway. "Poor baby," she murmured, patting the dash. Her Alfa Romeo wasn't the optimal car for pitted dirt roads, but she loved it and couldn't bear to trade it in for a four-wheel drive. At least the silver color masked the dirt that kicked up from the roads.

The sun hadn't set completely, so Gran was probably still working outside. Olivia climbed out of the car, tugged her skirt down, and followed the path leading alongside the house.

Granny Mae's farm was famous. People came from all over to stay here and study her gardening techniques. Mae Pembroke's knowledge of plants rivaled any herbalist's, and she worked magic with vegetables and flowers.

Olivia quickly walked past the empty vegetable patch, thinking Gran was probably working in the flower garden. But no one was there either.

"Herbs," Olivia decided, knowing Gran never went inside as long as there was light.

She stopped at the gate of the herb garden and looked around. Gran kneeled in a flowerbed, snipping at what looked like oregano. Mae Pembroke looked just like she did twenty-four years ago. Her hair was more silver than gold, her face lined with age, but her brown eyes still sparked and her hands still worked efficiently.

Stepping carefully so she wouldn't trip in her high-heeled Mary Janes, Olivia weaved through the various beds and sat down on the stone bench closest to her grandmother.

"I wondered if you'd come out here," Gran said, dropping the oregano she cut into the straw basket beside her.

"Why was that?"

"Just had a feeling." She looked at the plant and obviously decided it was cut back enough because she moved on to the next one.

She didn't know why she bothered to ask. Gran always knew things. It was downright creepy. It was too bad Olivia hadn't inherited that trait. Maybe then she could have foreseen Michael coming back. "Gran, why'd you take me in?"

Her grandmother looked up from her work, pushing the straw hat out of her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Because, other than her mom, no one else had loved her enough to want her. But she said, "It couldn't have been easy for you to take in a five year old."