Page 29 of Dirty Filthy Boy
"Oliver!" The dirty blonde hair he'd worn long is now cropped into a stylish, businessman's cut, but his amazing eyes still blaze electric blue. Dressed in a dark blue business suit that frames his tall, powerful body to a T, he's still as gorgeous as ever. Unable to help myself, I embrace him.
After he returns my hug, he steps back to gaze at me. "Look at you. You're all grown up. What are you doing in Chicago?"
"I attended college here and then got a job atThe Windy City Chronicle. As a reporter."
"You always loved to write." He smiles, and those dimples I loved so much pop up on his cheeks.
"Yeah." The summer he visited I wrote about him in my journal all the time. "So what have you been doing?" Last time I saw him, he'd been headed for the University of Chicago. But that's the only thing I know about him. His cousins' family sold their farm that fall and moved away, so I'd lost track of them and him.
He cocks his head to the side. "You don't know?"
I blink. "No. Should I?"
He gestures toward the field. "I own the team."
I gulp. "The Chicago Outlaws?"
"Yes."
I knew he came from my money. Lots of money. But I didn't know he was super rich. "Wow."
A woman standing a couple of feet away calls out, "Mr. Lyons, we have to go or you'll be late."
An entourage surrounds him—several men dressed in expensive-looking suits and a woman, probably his assistant. Business types by the look of them.
A frown of annoyance rolls over Oliver's brow, as if he resents the interruption. "Listen. I have a meeting I can't get out of, but I'd love to catch up."
I clutch my notebook to me, resembling the schoolgirl I once was. "That would be nice."
His smile tells me he's pleased by my response.
Sensing more than seeing someone roll up behind me, I turn to see who it is. "Marigold. Hi." I'm surprised to see her since she'd decided to stay in the car.
Her glance ping pongs between Oliver and me. "Sorry to interrupt, but it got cold in the car. I thought I'd grab the keys so I could turn on the heat."
"I'm so sorry it took so long. Here." I fish out the keys from my purse and hand them to her.
"Thanks."
She turns to leave, but before she can get away, I stop her. "Mar, wait. Let me introduce you to Oliver Lyons. He's an old friend. Oliver this is Marigold Thompson."
She nods, unsmiling. "Nice to meet you."
So does he. "Pleasure."
"Oliver owns the team."
She folds her arms across her middle, and shoots a scathing glare at Oliver. "Yes, I know."
Wow. What's that all about?
"Meeting's starting, Mr. Lyons," Oliver's assistant says, tapping her wristwatch.
"You better go, Oliver."
His lips firm as he turns to his entourage. "Go on. I'll be right there." As soon as they're gone from sight, he asks, "Are you free tomorrow?"
"What?" I ask.
