The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire (25 page)

Kirk was right, I decided. If I ever hoped to get over Oliver, I would have to at least try to date other gents or, at the very least, to get out of the house and try to have some fun instead of just basking in memories of all the fun evenings I’d enjoyed in Oliver’s company.

Stepping out of the sweater and jeans that I’d worn throughout the day, I opened my closet door and browsed with listless, casual fingers through the assortment of expensive, brightly colored frocks that hung unused or neglected on its wrack.

All of my most beautiful dresses came directly from Oliver and I wondered with a sigh just how many times his name would cross my mind throughout the course of a single day. It would seem terribly tacky to wear a dress that he gave me on a date with another man.

Deciding finally on a basic black dress I’d bought on my own several years ago, I slipped it over my head and took a brush to the strands of my tangled dark hair; combing them into some semblance of order as I wished I could do the same with my addled senses.

I didn’t bother putting on a lot of makeup that evening; opting to just apply a light layer of light brown eye liner and a coat of ruby red lipstick. I was inspecting the results in the mirror when I heard a loud, sharp knock resounding on my door.

Here goes nothing
, I mused with a sigh, adding as I trudged with listless steps in the direction of my front door,
and that’s about what it will feel like, I’m afraid. Nothing.

Forcing a smile for the benefit of my visitor, I opened my door to reveal a modestly dressed blond in a T-shirt and jeans.

“
Hi Lily,” Kirk greeted me with a grin. “You look nice.”

“
Hi, thanks,” I replied, widening my forced smile as I added silently, “Oliver never would have worn a T-shirt and jeans on our date. Along the same lines, he never would have told me that I look nice. He would praise my beauty to the high heavens. And, come to think of it, he wouldn’t have come to my door at all, at least not to start off a really special evening. He would have sent his chauffeur ahead of him, to—what do those really fancy schmancy types call it?—fetch me directly.”

Following Kirk downstairs to the front entrance of my apartment building, I saw through the panes of my glass encased doors the very reason that Kirk’s chauffeur didn’t come ahead of him to “fetch” his date. Indeed, those that owned lime green hatch back cars made in the early 90s usually didn’t come complete with hired drivers.

Shaking my head to clear it of its critical haze, I reminded myself that Kirk’s kindness and character more than made up for his modest means.

Even so, the conversation that we shared en route to the dance club did little to show evidence of Kirk’s dynamic, exciting personality.

“
So Lily,” he cleared his throat loudly as he made several attempts to rev his engine—and mine too, apparently. “Like I said, you look super cute tonight. I’m glad you decided to come out with me. I sure hope we’ll have fun.”

“
I do too,” I agreed, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

Soon we completed our mercifully short trek to Jubilee dance emporium; a modest, single level mirrored building on the sketchy side of town.

Olli never would have brought me here
, I mused in silence, gathering close to my muscular date as we walked with brisk steps into the club.

Taking our seats at a corner table, I coughed roughly as my senses were assailed with a cloud of smoke; a haze no doubt inspired by the circle of avid smokers that surrounded us in the club.

These same senses underwent a second assault as they were struck with the shattering notes of a hard rocking heavy metal tune; one that managed to drown out all attempts at conversation that transpired between my date and myself. Finally Kirk just motioned for me to write down my drink order, which he then passed on to a waiting waiter.

“
This seems like a really cool place!” Kirk screamed above the music. “Doncha think?”

“
Oh yeah!” I replied, flashing an awkward thumbs up sign in his direction. “The best!”

OK, so maybe the conversation-killing music was a blessing in disguise.

Finally Kirk suggested that we get up and dance and as we walked hand in hand toward the rickety wooden dance floor that formed the center of Jubilee, I recalled the many passionate, heartfelt dances that had transpired between Oliver and me.

Somehow it didn’t feel the same when Kirk took me into his arms; his own arms loose and tentative as he swung me around the floor.

Keeping a respectful distance between us, we moved out of synch and even stumbled a bit as we tried to match the rhythm of the song. Twirling slightly away from my date, I stumbled backward against the tall, muscular body of another dancer on the floor.

Turning with a flourish to apologize to the gentleman I’d just jarred on the dance floor, my mouth fell agape as I faced the man whose image haunted my mind.

Refined and handsome in a sleek black dinner suit, Oliver Clark looked strangely out of place on a stained, rickety dance floor and suddenly I wondered if he was something out of a dream.

But when he said, “Good evening, Lily,” his voice sounded all too real and in lieu of answering his very polite greeting, I turned and ran from the floor.

Racing through the crowd in the direction of the door, I cleared the club entrance in seconds; emerging in the moonlight to cover my face with my hands, letting loose with a loud, sharp sob that released my long held sorrow.

How could I ever escape that man? And even if I resigned from Clark Industries, how could I escape his memory?

My troubled meditation was soothed somewhat by the sudden presence of two strong hands on my shoulders; hands that I simultaneously hoped and feared belonged to Oliver.

Raising my head, my gaze locked with a pair of eyes that were blue, not brown.

“
Are you all right, Lily?” Kirk asked me, tone low and gentle.

Nodding, I stood upright and squared my shoulders; forcing a faint smile as I replied, “I’m OK, thanks. I think, though, that maybe you should take me home now.”

Kirk looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.

“
I think you’re right,” he agreed, adding in a lower tone, “I don’t have a chance here, do I Lil? You really are in love with that man.”

I bit my lip.

“
I’m sorry, Kirk,” I offered with a smile. “I know this sounds hopelessly clichéd but I do hope we can still be friends. Good friends.”

Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, Kirk nodded as he turned my body in the direction of the parking lot.

“
We can, dear,” he affirmed, adding with a gentle nudge, “Now let’s get you home.”

Chapter
Eighteen

~

Oliver

Saturday evening came around far too early for my liking; particularly as this night provided a dismal capper to a downright miserable week.

I had to admit it; Lily’s rejection of my gift had left me disgusted, frustrated and more than a little stunned. What did this woman want, anyway? I had given her the prettiest, most expensive gift I could find. What more could I do? Did she just enjoy torturing me?

During the week, of course, I could bury my worries in the pile of work that filled my office inbox. I’m proud to say that my relationship woes did not destroy the newfound momentum I’d established at work; even my father, another person I’d managed to royally tick off, stopped briefly in my office to deliver a brief, roughly spoken compliment (“Good job, I suppose,” were his exact words) regarding my recent performance on an important project.

OK so I didn’t expect the dude to nominate me for Employee of the Year anytime soon but at least I saw some remote hope for our relationship.

Not so when it came to Lily. And while I could forget this fact during the work week, it wasn’t easy to do so on the weekend—the time I usually spent with Lily.

I spent all day Saturday moping in my apartment; finding no easy escape route from my exhausting, stifling haze of complete and utter misery.

Around 5 o’clock that evening, I had had enough. No woman was going to make a weepy, emotional mess of Oliver Clark—and if she didn’t realize what a find she had in me, then I would just call up one of the many beautiful women who did appreciate and want to be with me.

OK, so the first five women I called had already made plans for the evening; the sixth had just come down with an inexplicable headache, and the seventh seemed to be having problems with her phone—or at least that seemed to be the case, given the loud click I heard in my ear the moment I said, “Hi, it’s Oliver.”

Finally, though, I scored a date with Kelli—what was her last name again? Elated that Lily and I were no longer dating, Kelli agreed to meet me at the Jubilee dance emporium that evening and while this low rent night club was not on my list of favorite haunts, I supposed that the loud music—paired, of course, with the company of a gorgeous woman—would dull my senses and drown out the memory of another woman; one that at this point seemed unattainable.

Two hours later I sat at a table across from the lovely blonde Kelli; dressed that evening in a sharp black spaghetti strap that showed off her slender body to glorious effect. Leaning forward across the table, I ran my fingers through her luxurious mass of thick golden hair and stared deep into her wide blue eyes; seeking to lose myself in all her beauty.

Strangely, though, I felt not even a twinge of excitement as I laid my eyes on this striking woman; and when she spoke, I found it very difficult to focus on her words.

“
I’m glad you called me, thanks for that,” she told me with a grin. “About all I was planning to do tonight was my nails and maybe check out the monster truck rally on cable.”

I stared at her, not sure quite how to respond to this empty, banal sentiment.

Lily would never say anything so—well—dumb. And she’d never thank me for going out with her
, I thought silently, adding aloud, “Glad you could make it, Kelli. Would you like a drink?”

Soon Kelli and I occupied our mouths with copious reams of cheese sticks and alcoholic beverages; blissfully stilting any and all attempts at genuine conversation. And when they were gone, I invited her to dance.

The moment we hit the dance floor, Kelli flung herself into my arms and ground her nubile, voluptuous body against mine; searing me with a blatant gaze of narrow eyed seduction as she thrust her chest against mine and gyrated her slim, fit hips in my direction.

Normally I would be turned on by such a blatant advance, especially when performed by such a hot, alluring woman. Somehow, though, I felt repulsed by her display of crude sexuality; I felt myself stiffening against her, and not in a good way.

Lily would never make a spectacle of herself in front of all these people. Kelli stepped away from me to show off what appeared to be her advanced twerking skills. Impressive.