Crazy Love Read online

  “Quit thinking about him this instant, Liv. He’s not worth it.”

  She valued Flo’s loyalty. For all their differences the two of them had bonded when she’d first come to town. Nothing like loneliness to bring like-minds together.

  “Actually, I was thinking about my son Marc and how I haven’t heard from him.”

  She couldn’t fathom Flo’s sly grin. “I wouldn’t be too concerned. Something tells me you’ll be seeing him real soon.”

  Wondering whether Flo was suffering from nicotine withdrawal, Olivia drained her tea and placed the cup out of thumping reach.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Marc’s a handsome devil. And that fancy car of his must impress the ladies.”

  Flo had seen pictures of Marc but there was no way she could know about his Jaguar unless she’d actually seen it.

  “Marc’s here?”

  Olivia should be ecstatic he’d found it in his heart to leave his desk for more than a few hours, though she couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t come to see her yet. It hurt. A lot.

  Flo nodded and leaned forward as if about to divulge a trade secret.

  “Yes-sirree. I served him last night at the diner and then saw him first thing this morning as I was heading down to Amor for some ciggies.”

  “He was out walking?”

  Not only had Marc abandoned his precious work for longer than a day, he’d taken up strolling? Her son had never walked anywhere in his life unless it involved getting from the boardroom to his glass-enclosed office.

  Flo’s grin turned positively evil. “If you call sneaking out Sierra’s front door and strolling to his car walking.”

  “What?”

  Flo folded her arms, annoyingly smug, as if she’d delivered the Gettysburg address.

  “Looks like your son and Sierra hit it off over dinner last night and continued their discussion into the night.”

  “Hard to believe.”

  Olivia shook her head, torn between wanting to ring Marc to discover the truth and wanting to wring his neck for not seeking her out first.

  She’d admired her son’s independent streak as a youngster though wished he’d turned to her more as he grew up. Not that she blamed him. In the Fairley household it had been every man, woman and child for themselves and though she’d loved him the best way she could she knew she’d fallen short as a mother.

  She’d been too wrapped up in self-preservation mode to pay attention to Marc and though they shared a close bond now she sure wouldn’t win any Mother of the Year contests.

  “Believe it. Looks like your son has a new girlie friend.” Flo refilled their cups and nibbled on a cookie. “Mmm, these are good. Face it, Liv. He could do a lot worse than the Kent girl.”

  In an instant, Olivia’s mood improved. Hadn’t she been thinking yesterday she wished Marc would settle down with a nice woman? So he hadn’t rushed to see her as soon as he hit town? At least he was here and that could only mean one thing. He cared enough to want to meet Hank and to give them his blessing.

  As for being sidetracked by lovely Sierra, she couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried.

  Now all she had to do was get him to stick around long enough to ensure this wasn’t another of his slap-dash flings like he had with those trashy LA floozies he usually hung out with.

  “You’re right.” Clinking porcelain with Flo, she raised her cup in salute. “How good are your matchmaking skills these days?”

  Outside the market, Sierra sat on an old wooden bench and tilted her face up to the sun, savoring the warmth caressing her skin. She usually loved strolling around the stalls, checking out the fresh produce and haggling with familiar faces.

  Today, she’d dragged her feet until Belle banished her to take a breather and she’d gratefully agreed, aware her lethargy had everything to do with the sleepless night she’d spent and cursing the cause as she’d trudged to the nearest seat.

  Damn Marc Fairley.

  She wondered what he was up to as she watched Ripley bound through the park. Probably terrorizing his poor mom and bailing up Uncle Hank, trying to impose his will on them like the rest of his well-organized world.

  She’d seen his type before, had even managed to match a few guys like him. Personally, uptight, money-driven, businessmen weren’t her thing.

  Liar! You were willing to make an exception last night.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t,” She argued with her conscience, wondering how much more pathetic she could get than sitting alone and talking to herself.

  Not for any lack of trying.

  “Shut the hell up.”

  Deciding silence was easier than squabbling with herself, she slid her sunglasses in place and closed her eyes, wishing she could shut out the image of Marc as easily. However, six-four, black wavy hair, chocolate eyes was burned into her retinas, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

  A blaring horn made her jump and her eyes flew open as a car screeched to a halt at the curb.

  “Mornin’. Fine day to be alive.” Flo leaned out of her rusty, beat up Ford and waved.

  So much for peace and quiet. Flo didn’t know the meaning of the words.

  “You frightened the living daylights out of me.” Sierra strolled over to the car, leaned down and planted a kiss on Flo’s leathered cheek. “And you’re still driving like a maniac.”

  Flo puffed up, affronted as always when anyone dared criticize her skills behind the wheel. “I’ll have you know I drove the Mount Panorama circuit in my younger days.”

  “Mount where?”

  Flo’s eyes glazed, probably ruing the life she’d left behind in Australia.“In Bathurst, back in Oz. I raced the odd rev-head there in my youth.”

  “Bet you gave as good as you got.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Flo cleared her throat and made a swipe at her eyes. “Damn dust in this town plays havoc with my cataracts. Now, where were we? Ah, that’s right. How was dinner last night?”

  She’d expected this. In fact, she wondered what had taken Flo so long. After waiting on them at the diner last night she’d expected Flo to barge in early this morning and demand the lowdown on Marc. Which would’ve been interesting, seeing as the man at the center of Flo’s curiosity had spent the night.

  “Dinner was fine.”

  It was dessert back at her place in the form of a scintillating kiss that had kept her up most of the night.

  “Young Marc seemed like a nice fella.”

  “He’s all right for a city boy.”

  Sierra feigned nonchalance, for the slightest sign of interest on her part would morph into wedding bells in Flo’s eyes and that of half the town.

  “Handsome young buck if you ask me.”

  Sierra shrugged and bit back a laugh at Flo’s none too subtle interrogation technique. “If you like that look.”

  Flo rubbed her hands together. “I like. If only I was thirty years younger.”

  “He’d eat you alive.”

  Flo snorted. “I should be so lucky. My blood pressure is skyrocketing just thinking about it.” She fanned her face with a liver-spotted hand. “Speaking of the Fairleys, I have a message from Liv. She wants you to pop over in an hour to discuss wedding plans. They’ve set a date.”

  “Fantastic. When is it?”

  “I’ll let her share the good news. Right now I’ve got a date at Amor’s.”

  Sierra shook her head as Flo mimicked smoking a cigarette. “When are you going to give up that filthy habit?”

  “When I reach the big smoke-free zone in the sky.” Flo shooed her away. “Now leave an old lady alone and go visit the happy couple.”

  “Okay, see you later.”

  Sierra tapped the bonnet and waved as Flo floored the accelerator and took off in an impressive display of spinning wheels.

  “Crazy woman,” she said, whistling to Ripley and flipping open her cell to inform Belle of her plans.

  Though not as crazy as her
for wanting to rush over to Hank’s farm in the faint hope Marc might be there. She shouldn’t give him a second thought yet here she was wondering if she should pop home and change before heading to the farm.

  Flo wasn’t loco, she was, for having more than a passing interest in a guy totally wrong for her.

  He was not her type.

  He was interfering, overconfident and overbearing.

  He drove her mad.

  Worse yet, she had a feeling he was perfect for her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male

  Don’t act like a jerk when you’re wrong (and flowers do help.)

  Marc glanced around his drab suite at the Love Inn, thankful Sierra had taken pity on him last night and hadn’t booted him off the couch where he’d fallen asleep. Spending longer than ten minutes in this room was enough to render him blind, kick-start a migraine, or both.

  Like everyone else in this hokey town, the operators took the love theme to extremes. Pink heart-shaped headboard with matching side tables, faded cream wallpaper embossed with tacky red hearts and a burgundy quilt to top off the ensemble. Throw in the heart-shaped miniature soaps in the bathroom, the pink towels which resembled sandpaper rather than cotton and the frothy lace that edged everything in the room and he’d entered his worst nightmare.

  How could his mom live in a town like this? After she divorced George he’d pictured her in some swank apartment in Malibu, not slumming it in a town that could fit in the suburb of Holmby Hills where he’d bought a palatial home several years ago.

  While he didn’t spend much time there it felt good to have somewhere concrete he could call his own. Ironic, as he couldn’t wait to escape his parents’ home growing up and had never put much faith in material things. Possessions meant jack when used as a substitute for warmth and dare he say it, love?

  Casting one last malevolent glare around the room, he snagged his keys and overnight bag. Spending too much time here was getting to him if he was reminiscing about missing out on happy families growing up.

  The sooner he checked out, talked sense into his mom and headed back to LA, the better.

  “Knock, knock. You in there, kid?”

  With a wry grin, Marc paused with his hand on the doorknob. He hadn’t been called kid in years, not since his high school football coach.

  His grin didn’t last long when he opened the door and found himself face to face with Flo.

  “How’s it going, mate?”

  “Fine thanks.” He struggled not to reel back from the stale cigarette fumes. “What can I do for you? I’m in a hurry.”

  She waggled a crooked arthritic finger under his nose. “You young people are always in a hurry these days. What’s got your undies in a twist?”

  “I need to see my mom this morning and get back to LA for business this afternoon.”

  “You work on a Saturday?” She winked. “No rest for the wicked, huh?”

  He resisted the urge to step back before she nudged him in the ribs. “Not much time for wickedness these days. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Hold your horses, matey. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Matey? He preferred kid, or Slick at a pinch. Actually, he liked Slick, particularly if accompanied by one of Sierra’s provocative smiles.

  “Thought you might like a personal escort out to Liv’s farm. Make it easier for you to find. So if you’re ready let’s hit the road.”

  He stared at Flo, finding it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying after hearing the words ‘Liv’s farm’.

  Hell, he needed to get over there pronto before Flo’s words became a reality and his mom did end up on that farm permanently.

  Flo dangled her keys in front of his face. “Would you like me to drive? I’m real good at it.”

  He glanced over her shoulder at a beat-up Ford sporting enough dents to rival a Dodgem.

  “Thanks, but I’ll follow.”

  That way he could head straight back to LA from the farm, hopefully with his mom in the passenger seat.

  “Okay, but I hope that fancy, shmancy car of yours can keep up.”

  He smiled, liking the oddball woman more by the minute. Straight-talking women were a feature in this town.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Not too close, I hope.” This time he was too slow to dodge a nudge. “On second thoughts, having a good looking bloke like you on my tail mightn’t be such a bad idea.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Flo?”

  “Just an old Aussie broad having a little fun.” She fell into step beside him, keeping stride with ease. “I swear I’m harmless.”

  Her driver’s door creaked on rusty hinges as he opened it and she slid inside.

  “Mr. Flo is a lucky man.”

  She snorted and started the engine that turned over surprisingly well. By the look of the bodywork he’d expected it to stall or splutter.

  “He sure is. He had the good sense to curl up his toes before I curled ‘em for him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. Don’t worry that handsome head of yours. Old Flo can take care of herself.”

  She revved the engine and dropped the clutch, making the wheels spin until the smell of burning rubber made his eyes water.

  “And another thing. If you need a place to stay while you’re in town I’ve got a spare room over the garage.”

  “I won’t be staying long.”

  He felt like a heel voicing the understatement of the year when the hopeful glint in her eyes faded.For all her bluster he had a feeling she missed her husband more than she let on, especially if she was willing to offer a virtual stranger a room.

  Then again, maybe it was part of the small town hospitality. Take Sierra last night. She’d had dinner with a stranger who barged into her office shooting his mouth off, and then hadn’t appeared overly perturbed by him crashing on her couch. Women in LA would never let that happen. These days it was hard enough to get past their front door let alone into their living room.

  “You’ll be staying longer than you think. Liv’s looking forward to your visit, though I doubt you’ll want to stay at the farm. What with the lovebirds making moon eyes at each other.” She mock gagged. His feelings exactly. “My offer stands, okay?”

  He managed a nod, the thought of his mom making eyes at this damn farmer less than palatable.

  “Now that’s settled, let’s go. I haven’t got all day.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, mate. Now, keep up.”

  She gunned the engine and floored it out of the car park, taking the corner on a squeal of tires before waiting for him at the sole traffic signals in town.

  He shook his head in bemusement and slid behind the wheel of his Jag. If Flo was an indication of the company his mom was keeping these days, he couldn’t wait to meet Hank.

  Sierra flipped open the bridal magazine featuring fashions for mature brides and pointed to three outfits she’d highlighted.

  “What do you think of these?”

  Olivia peered at the pictures and crinkled her brow. “They’re all beautiful, dear.”

  “Does one strike you more than the others?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I can’t seem to make up my mind.”

  Sierra bit back her first retort of “can’t or won’t?” For some strange reason the usually decisive woman her uncle was engaged to had turned into a dithering, wavering shadow of her former self.

  Not that Sierra minded. The longer she hung around the farm the more chance of running into Marc.

  “Do you want my opinion?”

  “Certainly, dear.”

  “I like this one.”

  Sierra pointed to a simple, two piece ivory suit featuring a slim-fitting skirt with an overlay of chiffon and a tailored jacket that would accentuate the older woman’s trim figure.

  “You have excellent taste. I love the pearl buttons.”

  “Is t
hat your choice then?”

  As much as she wanted help Hank, this wedding planning business promised to drag if Olivia spent as much time deliberating every decision as she did choosing an outfit.

  Though in all fairness if she ever got married—a highly unlikely proposition—she’d want to look ravishing for her groom.

  Olivia sighed and leaned back in her chair, her slight frown a startling reminder of how alike mother and son were.

  “I’m sorry for being such a bore. I just want this day to be perfect.”

  “It will be.”

  Sierra patted a hand devoid of the slightest age spot. Living in Beverly Hills had obviously suited the older woman, who didn’t look a day over fifty when Sierra knew for a fact Olivia was sixty.

  “Wish I could be so sure.”

  By the faraway look in her eyes and the deepening frown, Sierra knew she was thinking about her son.

  Olivia absentmindedly folded the corners of a magazine in her lap. “I love your uncle too much to let anyone interfere in our happiness.”

  “You’re talking about Marc?”

  Olivia nodded, worried her bottom lip.

  “Tell him what you just told me.”

  Olivia smiled, a slight upturning of her lips tinged with sadness. “You don’t know Marc.”

  Sierra knew some things. Like how his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks when he slept, how that adorable dimple flashed when he genuinely smiled, how well he kissed. All pertinent facts where she was concerned but strictly on a need-to-know basis for a mom.

  “Can I be frank?”

  “Please.”

  “Marc’s in town and we didn’t exactly hit it off at first.” Sierra glanced at her watch. “I’d say he’ll be popping in shortly. We had dinner last night and I reckon the only reason was to gain inside info on your relationship.” She grimaced. “I didn’t tell him much but by a few things he said, he hopes you’ll head back to LA with him.”