The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire Read Free Page A

downright sensual dreams of Oliv er Clark that flooded my psyche and, I hated to admit it, aroused my body to no end.
     
    OK Ashton, time for a cold shower and a big, harsh dose of reality , I told myself, sitting down hard in my chair and resting my forehead in my hands. I cannot even think of getting involved with that man in any way, shape, form, or—um—position.
     
    I’d always vowed never to get inv olved with anyone I worked with, especially not an employer that I (ahem!) worked directly under; of course, that promise was a lot easier to keep back in college, when I interned as a page for a 75-year-old senator with false teeth, chronic halitosis (possibly related to his previously stated lack of natural born teeth) and eight kids, 14 great grandkids, and five great grands at home. A gorgeous, single gent like Oliver was just a bit tougher to resist; especially when he insisted on flirting with me and flattering me on a daily basis. That is, when he bothered to come into work at all.
     
    So it was time for me to make my daily list of reasons as to why I really, trul y should not consider a serious, or even casual, involvement with my employer. And it generally ran, as follows:
     
    1. He’s my employer. It would be professional suicide for me to mix business and pleasure. 2. I’m not his type. Not that I could rightly be compared to the Creature from The Black Lagoon, mind you—it’s just that I’ve never rightly seen him with a woman whose bra size exceeds her IQ. Plus I choose to maintain my natural hair color, which doesn’t happen to be platinum blonde, and a somewhat natural make up aesthetic that doesn’t involve the use of false eyelashes, siren red lipstick or glitter eye shadow. If I was a stranger he passed on the street, I doubt that he’d even look my way. 3. I’m sure the man charms every mortal female who crosses his radar on a daily basis; from his accountant to his father’s maid to the gal who carries out his groceries at Costco. I should not take his attentions to heart.
     
    There, then; I had reasoned and stated, in no uncertain terms, three solid reasons as to why I should never even think about sparki ng a romance with Oliver Clark. Then why, I wonder, did I find myself making this same list almost every single day?

Chapter Two
     
    ~

 
     
     
    Oliver
     
    “And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why we need to clos e this deal and make the merger as soon as possible.”
     
    Taking my seat at the front of the conference room, I folded my hands before me and offered a genial smile to the associates that now applauded me; a smile that dissolved as I noticed that my father, seated tall and erect at the opposite end of our polished cherry wood meeting table, did not join his employees in their apparent enthusiasm for the ideas and concepts I’d just offered. Quite the contrary, I was now being pinned with a cool, hard stare I’d come to know all too well; one first directed at me sometime during my high school years, and that seemed to appear just like clockwork every few weeks or so.
     
    Soon our co-workers and clients approached me one by one, both to engage me in light, friendly conversation and to ask questions about the ideas I’d presented during the course of the meeting, some of which I was proud to say I could actually answer. Well, in part, anyway… the rest I pretty much bluffed my way through before making plans for dinner, tennis dates, evenings at the opera and theater, and (or so was the case with one junior executive who boasted an inordinate amount of cleavage and blonde hair, in that order) a late night rendezvous to be enjoyed at a later date, but not much later, or so we both fervently hoped.
     
    All the while, though, my father continued to pin me with a cold, hard stare that chilled me to the bone; causing me to turn away from him and try to lose myself in my conversations with our colleagues.
     
    I tried my best to prolong these interactions, talking about