by Lara Hunter
“Beautiful,” I breathed, standing stock still at the center of the restaurant.
“Yes, Lily. You are.”
Jumping at the sound of a deep, masculine voice that purred into my ear, I turned to face a vision of beauty that surpassed that of our ethereal surroundings. Adorned this evening in a black velvet dinner suit and sleek white satin shirt, Oliver was the picture of gentlemanly refinement.
It’s a good thing I know better, I mused with a grin, my gaze all the while devouring the radiance of his full, moist lips, carved cheekbones and wide ebony eyes; eyes that seemed to brim with a strange glow as they raked me from head to toe.
“Lily,” he said my name soft and sweet as he took my hand in his. “I never knew that you were so…”
He didn’t need to finish his sentence; I saw its hidden meeting in the depths of his eyes. His gaze continued to hold mine as he lead me to our table; a plush candlelit setting that boasted crisp ivory linens and beautiful rose print china.
Pulling out my chair for me, Oliver then took a seat beside me at the table; taking my hands into his and bringing them to his lips for a warm, affectionate kiss.
“Thank you for joining me here tonight,” he told me, tone soft and sincere.
“Not a problem,” I shrugged, adding as I raised a finger for emphasis, “Before we eat, though, I wanted to remind you to write your father a memo about…”
My eyes flew wide as a smiling Oliver slipped a gentle finger across my lips; shushing me softly as he said, “No talk of work this evening, my dear. This night is for you to enjoy. And for once, dear lady, I’m going to take care of you.” He paused here, adding with a flirty wink, “Prepare to be coddled, catered to and totally spoiled, Miss.”
Charmed and strangely excited by his words, I relaxed in my seat and gazed at my menu; trying my darndest not to gaze at the handsome, affectionate gent before me.
After ordering a meal on my behalf (a good thing, as for all my scholarly expertise I’ve never taken as much as a single French class), Oliver and I fell into what I considered a more normal, customary vibe of conversation; discussing our newest clients at the office as well as some old favorites.
“I have to say, Oliver, I was impressed by your job performance this week,” I praised him, tipping my crystal wine glass in his direction as I took a primo bite of filet mignon.
Oliver snorted.
“You mean because I showed up and actually worked?” he deadpanned, arching his feathered eyebrows to sardonic effect. “Actually, Lily, I probably have you to thank for my turnaround at work. For two years you’ve had my back, keeping me on the right track and reminding me to file those reports, make those phone calls. And although Dad is never likely to name me Employee of the Month, I do still have my job, and, all things considered, I do believe I have you to thank for that fact.”
I shrugged, grinning in spite of myself as I considered these words.
“Well thank you,” I told him, adding as I tapped a reflective fork alongside my dinner plate, “I know I’ve been a bit hard on you at times, Oliver.”
I took in my breath as, searing me with an intense gaze, Oliver covered my hand with his.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he whispered, gracing me with a catlike grin. “I quite like it when a lovely lady gets rough with me. I’m always at your service, Miss.”
Clearing my throat loudly, I welcomed the very timely arrival of our waiter; a jovial, crisply tuxedoed gent who set before me a steaming hot plate of coq au vin, buttered mashed potatoes and seasoned mixed vegetables; all served up with a sparkling beverage I immediately identified as champagne.
“About the only time my drinks ever sparkle is when I slip some Alka Seltzer into my water after consuming yet another belly buster pizza for dinner,” I mused—and once I heard the peals of laughter that met this notion, I realized all too late that I’d been ‘musing’ out loud.
“You, my dear, are an absolute delight,” Oliver praised me, raising his own frosted goblet to toast my apparently adorable antics. “I’m so glad we’re finally getting to spend some time together outside the office. I want to know everything about you, Lily. I mean, Dad has told me that you were an excellent student and earned a full-ride scholarship through college and that you completed an internship as a clerk at a law office.” He paused here, gracing me with an admiring smile. “You never cease to amaze me, Lily. And while I know all about Lily the student and Lily the professional, I’d love to know more about Lily the woman.”
I shrugged.
“Lily the woman doesn’t have much to tell you except for the fact that she doesn’t often speak of herself in the third person like this, that’s just weird. Seriously, though, there’s not much to tell,” I told him, setting my champagne glass on the edge of my placemat before taking my silver cast fork firmly in hand; attacking my thick, juicey side of coq au vin with unapologetic vigor. “I grew up in a working class home with parents who adored me but never spoiled me. Oh, they always made sure that I had nice, clean clothes and plenty of food to eat. And I always got what I asked for on Christmas day except that one time during my childhood when I wanted a unicorn that wore rainbow striped roller skates and sang the entire Backstreet Boys song catalogue. And that one time during my teens when I asked for Leonardo DiCaprio.”
Oliver laughed.
“Lucky Leonardo,” he arched his feathered eyebrows, adding with a wink. “I may not be Mr. Titanic, Lily; but if you ever again feel the need to put a man on your Christmas wish list, I’d be more than pleased to show up at your house wearing a bow…”
“I’ve grown up a lot since then,” I interrupted him, my cheeks flushing as I felt the sudden, inexplicable need to change the subject, and fast. “As for what life was like back then, I was an honor student in school but stunk at sports and the vast majority of social activities. I didn’t make the cheerleading team or earn the title of prom queen, as a matter of fact, come to think of it, I didn’t even go to the prom. I stayed home instead to work on my senior project; a comprehensive study of dominating financial trends in the current world marketplace.”
Oliver shook his head.
“Lily, I myself work for a financial institution, and I have no idea what you just said,” he admitted, pursing his lips in an ironic show of thought. “Has anyone ever tested your IQ? Are you even human? Or could you just be a very cute alien sent from a distant universe to make us pitiful human beings feel all the more idiotic?”
I laughed.
“Well personally, I think I owe the bulk of my success to my work ethic,” I told Oliver. “My parents always insisted that I do chores around the house, and I went to work with them on a regular basis, to learn more about the work experience. Otherwise, when I wasn’t studying for the next big test or researching that all important essay, I mostly stayed at home and read.”
Oliver nodded.
“So what is that like?” he queried, leaning forward in his chair and pinning me with an intent gaze.
I chuckled.
“What is what like, Oliver?” I pressed between bites, arching my eyebrows as I added, “Being a perpetual social outcast throughout the entire duration of one’s school days? Or reading?”
Oliver guffawed outright.
“Well I must admit that I myself had little time for reading throughout my school days,” he revealed with a shrug. “I was too busy chasing girls, going to parties, and deciding what kind of luxury car I wanted for my 16th birthday, which I celebrated, by the way, by scoring a fake ID and sneaking into a night club.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Looks like not much has changed,” I observed.
Oliver chuckled.
“Actually, I would like to do some more reading. I recently realized, Lily, that my looks aren’t going to last forever and my money could disappear at any moment,” he told me, pinning me with a probing gaze as his tone turned oddly serious, especially for Oliver. “I really need to expand my mind, and books are a good place to s
tart. Could you suggest some good authors for me, Lily?”
I grinned.
“Well I myself have always been partial to Jane Austen,” I reflected, adding with a shrug, “For her time especially she was an amazing writer, and her books always boasted the perfect blend of humor and romance.”
I froze as my words were met with a catlike smile; one that further illuminated the features of my dashing date.
“Ah romance,” he released on a purr, arching his eyebrows to sexy effect. “Now we’re talking. I’ll definitely check out your beloved Jane Austen, girl, but let me ask you in the meantime, do you ever happen to read any steamy romance? The real sexy stuff?” Oliver said the word ‘sexy’ in a low, soft growl that made my heart beat just a little bit faster.
“Well, um…” I stammered a bit, feeling my cheeks flush as I considered his provocative words. “I’ve found that sweet romance can actually be more interesting and scintillating than the steamy stuff, where they’re about as sweet and subtle as the graffiti on the New York City subway.”
Oliver laughed.
“Oh I don’t know. I actually had a girlfriend once who read…”
“You had a girlfriend that read?” I interrupted, almost spitting forth a stream of champagne as I did so.
Oliver nodded, seeming as he did to totally miss the irony, not to mention outright shock in my tone.
“While I don’t think she ever as much as touched anything resembling a classic, she loved to read aloud to me some sample passages from her favorite steamy reads,” he revealed, his tone low and sensual as he covered my hand with his. “And I loved acting out those passages even more. Tell me, Lily, do you like that idea? I could become your favorite romance hero in a heartbeat.”
I had heard enough.
“OK Clark, what gives?” I demanded, taking my hand from his. “Why all the candlelight, the wine, the compliments? It’s nice and everything, but I really didn’t believe that a second work anniversary warranted anything more than a pizza and maybe a raise.” I paused here, adding with lips pursed, “Now about that raise…”
Disrupting my words with a long, hard sigh, Oliver shook his head as his gaze collided with the table beneath us.
“I never could put anything over on you, Lily,” he finally looked up at me, adding with a shrug. “I need your help, now more than ever. My dad has given me something of an ultimatum; he says that, if my job performance doesn’t improve immediately, I stand to lose everything; my job, my inheritance, my whole way of life.”
Sobering immediately, I grabbed Oliver’s hands across the table and said, “Hey Oliver, don’t worry about it. You’ve already been doing much better this week, and I’ll report as much to Mr. Clark. I’ll also do everything in my power to help you do even better…”
“Would you consider posing as my girlfriend?” Oliver interrupted me, tone low and sincere.
I froze.
“Um, Oliver,” I sputtered, shaking my head from side to side. “Have you been drinking too much Chablis du Something or Other, or have I? Because I swore you just said…”
“This is no joke, Lily,” Oliver shook his head, adding in an earnest tone, “Dad is insisting that I undergo relationship counseling. He also insists that I settle down with a sensible, reliable woman that I can really commit to. Someone who will keep me on the right track as I do my part to build up our business.”
I nodded.
“Has your father actually met any of the ladies that you date?” I frowned.
Oliver chuckled.
“Yes, once or twice, by accident and he despised each and every one of them,” he revealed, adding with a warm smile, “But he adores you. He would love to see us together, so I say we give him what he wants… in a totally false and deceptive way, of course.”
“Of course,” I pursed my lips, adding as I dropped my fork and folded my hands before me, “And what exactly would I be getting out of this?”
Oliver smiled.
“Oh, not much,” he shrugged, adding with an expansive gesture, “Except, of course, for dinners at elegant restaurants such as this one, shopping trips at all of your favorite department stores (and, of course, I’ll simply have to establish a line of credit for you at each of these stores), front row seats at plays and ballets, staged at the finest theaters in town. Would that be good, for starters?”
I looked at him for a long moment, then shook my head.
“I don’t know, Oliver, this is all so sudden,” I shifted in my seat. “And I am not sure how I feel about lying to Harry, he’s been so good to me.”
Oliver sighed.
“Just think of it this way,” he reasoned. “You’ll be making the old man very happy. And, if all goes well, you’ll also be saving my rear.”
And what a darned cute rear it is, I answered internally, and in spite of my best judgment, adding aloud, “Well it won’t be the first time I’ve saved your proverbial behind, now will it? This situation seems different, however. I’m not sure if I can do this.”
Oliver nodded.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he allowed, squeezing my fingers tender between his. “Listen, why don’t you think about it over the weekend and give me your answer on Monday morning?”
I thought a moment, then nodded my agreement.
“Fair enough,” I confirmed with a nod.
The rest of our evening passed far too quickly for my liking. Oliver apparently felt the same way, as he culminated our date by insisting that he share the limo ride that would take me home.
“Well, it is your limo,” I shrugged. “Have at it.”
We said little during the ride home; and when we arrived at my modest brownstone home Oliver insisted on walking me to the door.
“In this neighborhood,” I deadpanned, taking his arm as we began the long trek up the length of my sidewalk.
At the door he turned to me, saying nothing as we stared deep into one another’s eyes.
I couldn’t help but admire the ethereal vision of Oliver by moonlight; his bronzed skin and cinnamon hair both glowing in an almost angelic manner. I also couldn’t help but notice the way his cocoa hued eyes now illuminated with a certain emotion; something that seemed to reflect a definite air of pure romantic interest, or perhaps even passion.
No, it couldn’t be, I must be mistaken.
Yet the sudden presence of his lips across mine silenced my thoughts.
I took in my breath as Oliver swept me up in his strong arms and pulled me closer than close; his full, moist lips massaging mine as he cradled me against his toned chest.
Leaning into his kiss, I savored the feel of our entwining tongues as I sank into his arms; our mouths molding and rubbing together as his tongue continued to massage my mouth.
Finally I broke the kiss; pulling away with a sharp gasp as I whispered, “Oliver, what are we doing?”
He said nothing at first, only stared at me for a timeless moment before turning away.
“Maybe what we should have been doing all along,” he said over his shoulder.
These words, and his kiss, echoed in my mind an hour later, as I lay ensconced in the soft satin sheets that adorned my basic, wood upholstered bed; shutting my eyes tight as I tried in futility to will myself to sleep.
While my imagination relived and repeated the magic of our first kiss, my conscious mind still wrestled with his insane proposition; an idea that I still couldn’t wrap my head around, let alone accept.
