Education of Simon Lane Page 2

  “I invite my friend for a beer, and you misconstrue my words to be more than what I meant. I care about Millie.”

  “Did you actually just say you care about her? My God Simon, she’s going to be your wife. Don’t you think you should be using the L word?”

  “What…lesbian?”

  “Very funny. You’re being deliberately dense.”

  “Millie knows how I feel, Parker. What’s this all about? Lately you’ve been attached to the rights and wrongs of my relationship and my actions toward my fiancé like a magnet.”

  “I’d just hate to see you all torn up again. Losing Lillian screwed you up, Simon. I’d hate to see you make another mistake with an equally good woman.”

  “The two cannot be compared.”

  “You’re doing it again. How the hell Millicent Rogers puts up with being second best amazes me. You create problems for yourself, Simon, and that disturbs me.”

  “You’re worried about me? Bullshit. Answer me honestly. Is your concern truly for me, or is this all about my woman?”

  “Your woman,” Parker repeated with disgust. “You have a strange way of taking care of her. Your woman. You make that admission in the same way you identify your shoes, your house. I don’t need or want your shoes, your house, or anything else that’s yours. Understand? I don’t want anything that’s absolutely yours, so don’t go there Simon. I don’t poach.” Parker’s added emphasis on absolutely yours further piqued Simon’s suspicion about Parker and Millicent’s relationship.

  “No, you don’t poach, do you? You’re like a fucking mountain lion, slinking around in wait. You’d love for me to screw up with Millicent, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I would,” Parker answered unabashedly, but Simon didn’t flinch or acknowledge the ominous statement. Deep down, Simon knew Millie wasn’t going anywhere. He and Millie had a deal that in the end would benefit them both.

  Besides, Parker was too much of a prick, and far too jaded, to admit his mistake. Big, bad Parker Crane obviously had chosen the wrong cousin.

  And his loss, as far as Simon was concerned, was Simon’s gain.

  Chapter Two

  Lilly sat rigid on the white Corinthian leather couch, a slight smile plastered to her honey-brown face, her eyes glued to the woman who paced excitedly before her. God, but she felt sick. Literally. She thought she would lose her lunch if the silly woman mentioned that larger-than-life fiancé of hers again.

  I mean, really, Lilly mused, no man is that good.

  She cocked her head slightly and perused the room, focused on the structure, visualized what she could do with it, and purposely locked out her employer’s bubble-filled conversation. Millicent had hired Lilly to redecorate the five-thousand-square-foot house hidden in the flat cornfields of Indiana. The nearest big city was Lafayette, the home of Purdue University, Lilly’s alma mater.

  These days Lilly made her home in Broad Ripple, an artsy little section of Indianapolis. She led a simple life in the community, far away from the hustle and bustle of where she used to be. There was a time when Chicago had been her stomping ground. Among the crowd she’d run with, she’d been the princess apparent, and her fiancé had been—and probably still was, knowing him—the crown prince. She’d left behind the drama of the big city, hoping, and succeeding quite well, at distancing herself from everyone and everything that might potentially feed her one obsession: Simon Lane

  .

  Every once in awhile, Lilly would nod agreement to one of Millicent’s asinine statements, and of course, she did the required gushing that was expected. What Lilly really wanted to do was slap her client—Ms. Millicent Rogers—into the next century.

  Or at the least gag the woman.

  Lilly had never met Millicent’s Mr. Perfect, but she suddenly felt sorry for him. The man would be stuck with this scatterbrain for life. But judging by the diamonds on Millicent’s fingers and around her neck, the soon-to-be Mr. Rogers would find something to compensate for the lack of intelligent conversation he would be having with his intellectually challenged wife. Yep, Lilly surmised, he has to be marrying her for her money—and sex.

  Probably damn good sex, too. Not that Lilly would know anything about that. After what happened to her all those years ago in Chicago, she’d sworn off men, leaving her with her celibate existence, her best friend BOB, and adult only memories.

  Ah, sweet memories, Lilly mused.

  She knew she was jaded. But after all these years and countless hours on a psychiatrist’s couch, she knew there was only one thing—one person, actually—who could make things right in her mind so she could be the person she’d been before that night. But that would never happen. It was a pipe dream to think she would be given the opportunity to educate the person who put her here; to school him on the horrors that he’d left behind.

  Her psychiatrists, and there had been several, all agreed she was obsessed, centered on making him pay for everything he had cost her, everything he threw away, everything he destroyed. And they unanimously—albeit separately—agreed that until she let her obsession go, she would never be happy.

  Nonetheless, she held him responsible for every shitty, fucked-up thing in her life, the big things and the little things. If she broke a nail on her finger, it was his fault. If she got a run in her pantyhose, she blamed him. Everything bad in her life was his fault, because while she struggled, in her mind, he excelled.

  She knew she was pathetic. It was her dream to force him to acknowledge that his lies and deceit were reprehensible. But that event, that coming face to face with him would never happen.

  Ever.

  It was a pipe dream.

  Simon Lane

  had abandoned her when she needed him most.

  Deep down Lilly envied women like her client. Not the physical attributes—although the girl was built like a playboy bunny. Lilly was no slouch; far from it—her body was toned and she was in excellent physical shape. It was the intimacy of being with a man, of loving a man, and being loved in return that she envied. That was what she longed for. But he stole that from her, the ability to love and trust. He took it even though it was his for the asking. And she could never get it back.

  As she half-heartedly listened to her client, Lilly imagined that Millicent Rogers—being one of the Long Island Rogerses—had her body designed by only the best plastic surgeons in the country.

  No one had teeth that white, hair that blonde, boobs that perky, lips that perfect, and certainly not eyes that blue. Well, maybe the shade of her eyes was real. She had known someone once, years ago, with eyes that blue. She shook off the thought and the image of him before it had a chance to fully materialize in her mind’s eye.

  Not today! She reprimanded herself. I will not think of him today.

  “Oh, my fiancé is just going to love this!” Millicent flipped the pages of Lilly’s design portfolio and gushed. She realized she didn’t even know the fiancé’s name. Millicent had referred to him only once—during their first meeting—by his name, but like now, Lilly had been so immersed in the prospect of securing the project she hadn’t been paying attention. Working for Millicent would be a major boost to her career, and with Ms. Rogers’ five-thousand-square-foot home on her resume, her little business would have no choice but to grow.

  And she’d won it on her own merits, with no outside help from anyone, the ‘anyone’ being Simon. This time, unlike the disastrous attempt years ago that had been responsible for her life falling apart, she had definitely succeeded.

  The problem was dealing with Millicent Rogers and her inane, nonstop, and painfully ridiculous chatter about that He-God she was engaged to. Lilly wished she could remember Mr. Wonderful’s name because these days, Millicent was stuck like glue to the term “my fiancé” when speaking of him. She never used names—simply titles.

  As one neurotic to another, Lilly knew the use of one’s name in an overly friendly way made a person important to you. So Millicent went for distance in a close up way
, whereas Lilly simply kept people at arm’s length. Lilly smiled at the observation and thought Millicent definitely had issues of her own. So while Millicent went on and on about God-knew-what, it dawned on Lilly that maybe it wasn’t so strange, after all, that Millicent did not have photographs of family or friends in the bare and stark house they sat in.

  There were no pictures of Millicent and Mr. Fiancé anywhere, nor did Millicent whip one out of her wallet and show it to the first person who expressed an interest. At first, Lilly thought it was weird, because it was so obvious that the woman was enamored with the man, despite the fact she never used his name. But then, after weeks of working with her, Lilly realized that Millicent was a kindred spirit in need of therapy.

  Lilly understood such behavior.

  Photographs were definitely for sentimentalists. There were none of the mother who Millicent often described as the controlling mom from hell or the father who had never rated a mention at all. There was a story here, Lilly thought, but just as quickly tossed the curiosity aside. Caring about people was something Lilly never did. She had learned the hard way that it was dangerous. Never again would she open herself up to the consequences of involvement with anyone unless it was business.

  “Don’t you agree?” Millicent had stopped pacing and was now standing beside Lilly with her hands firmly placed on her slim hips.

  Oh, Shit! What the hell had she said?

  “I’m not really sure.” Lilly hedged. She stood up slowly.

  “Why… you weren’t listening at all?” Millicent pouted.

  “Of course I was, Millicent. It’s just that…”

  “It’s just what?” Gone was the bubbly little blonde that Lilly was used to dealing with. The woman that stood before her now wore an incensed expression on her face.

  “Well, I was thinking that maybe we should rethink the color scheme.”

  “Color scheme…what does that have to do with what we were talking about?”

  “Don’t you see Millicent? The colors we chose won’t do at all. The way you speak of your fiancé, well, he just sounds so…oh I don’t know…what is the word?”

  “Masculine?” Millicent suggested.

  “Exactly. Your home should…no, it must be a complement to him.”

  “You’re right. You are so right!” Millicent’s expression indicated a light had come on inside her brain.

  Lilly smiled. “We’ll use earth tones and maybe a splash of green. It will blend in so well with the virginal whites and beiges that you adore.”

  “Oh yes! You know, I can visualize it. I can see this room so clearly. He’ll love it. Oh, Lilly, we’re a good team. Grab your pad and pen. I have some ideas. Oh, this is going to be so exciting! It’s like we’re starting over from scratch.”

  Lilly groaned inwardly at the prospect.

  “But, oh no! Will we be able to have it complete by time my fiancé and I return from Europe? Listen to me; my fiancé, indeed. He’ll be my husband, won’t he? Oh Lilly, I am so excited! The wedding is less than a month away. But you know that, right? My mother’s taken over the arrangements completely. All I do is show up for fittings and say ‘Yes, Mother,’ to anything and everything she suggests. Did I tell you she has ice sculptures ordered? I am having a June wedding and we’re having ice sculptures. How…How…oh hell, tacky! But she’s in charge and she’ll do as she pleases, just as she always has. But this project is all mine.”

  And so it began, again.

  The story of Millicent Rogers’ life rolled from her lips and grated onto Lilly’s raw nerves. She stood immobile; listening to the same stories she had endured from day one of this assignment. This time, she concentrated on her client’s every word. Her lack of focus before had resulted in a whole new decorating scheme, and she had so liked the original.

  Simon Lane

  stood outside of his soon-to-be home and tried to calm his nerves. Slowly, he inserted the key and let himself in. He didn’t smile, nor was he enthused about the prospect of spending a lazy afternoon alone with his fiancé. Simon’s mind was still on Lilly, and the accomplishments during the last six days in Baltimore paled in comparison.

  Although he had secured a deal with a company that was sure to make him even more prosperous than he had imagined possible and net him an overdue and long anticipated revenge, one he had vowed to secure not only for him, but for Millie too, shaking the memory of Lilly eluded him. Jamie Davidson Crane at last was going to pay for her sins, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

  “What a fucking mess I’ve made.” Simon ran his fingers through his hair and willed his body into submission, inhaled deeply to accelerate the calm he sought.

  He hadn’t called Millicent to tell her about his change in plans; he’d thought it would be nice to surprise her. Together they would celebrate the demise of the wicked witch, Jamie Crane. Jamie was the clip that snapped them together, but she was hardly the glue that bonded them.

  Millie was not only his fiancée, but she’d also been his confidant over the years following the Lilly incident. Simon could tell her things he would never share with Parker or other men in his group. But as he entered the foyer, he was overcome with a sudden feeling of dread, compounded with remorse.

  “You should be happy,” he muttered under his breath as he hung up his suit jacket. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Why did he feel so blasé about being here? Why was the thought of finding some measurement of happiness like a curse to him?

  “Why can’t I let the past go?” He huffed an exasperated sigh and thought, And why the fuck am I talking to myself?

  He undid his tie and glanced toward the living room. He could hear Millicent’s animated voice and laughter. Jesus, there is something terribly wrong with me. Simon leaned against the closet door, inhaled deeply, and pulled the tie free from his shirt collar.

  By all accounts, he was the luckiest bastard in the state. He was a self-made man, had more money than he could ever spend in one lifetime, and he was engaged to a wonderful girl. Millicent was beautiful and incredibly smart despite the ditzy behavior she sometimes displayed. Hell, she was a bloody genius. His friends all agreed that he was lucky to have her.

  “Especially Parker Crane,” Simon murmured with a certain satisfaction.

  If people only knew the real reason behind their engagement

  If only I loved her.

  “Love…” His voice trailed off and he was unable to keep the mental image of Lilly out of his head. The way she felt in his arms, the feel of her hands when she touched him, caressed him; the feel of her soft lips when they kissed, and the way Lilly lost herself in his touch. The image of his pale ivory skin against her honey-tone body could still shock him to the core. The eroticism of them joining made him literally breathless.

  “I love you. I love you,” he whispered to the face that lived inside his mind.

  “I know you do,” Lilly answered.

  His eyes snapped open and he spun around, thinking that the voice he’d heard was just a figment of his imagination. Instead, on the other side of the large entrance hall stood Millicent and the woman he thought to never lay eyes on again. Although her back was to him, he knew without a doubt that it was Lillian.

  Lilly.

  His Lilly.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh Darling, you’re back. I was just telling my decorator how much I missed you!” Millicent rushed to Simon and hugged him.

  Lilly stood by helplessly and watched as Simon’s arms circled Millicent’s tiny waist. Lilly could do nothing more than stand there, like a pillar of stone under his gaze, so intense it bore straight to her heart.

  Blood rushed from her brain and she thought for a moment she might faint. She struggled to steady her nerves, while at the same time, tried to decipher the variety of emotions that lit across Simon’s face in rapid succession—shock, panic, compassion, and always, always love. She heard Millicent ask what he was doing back so early, but Lilly tuned out his reply. Her heartbeat soared. My Go
d, she thought, Simon is Millicent's fiancé.

  She didn’t know what to do. Should she tell Millicent, or should she leave and just say nothing? She had longed for this moment for years—to see him again. In her fantasy, she dealt expertly with him, made him pay for what he had done to her. In her fantasy, he was the reason for everything bad in her life because he had been the cause of her greatest heartache and biggest betrayal.

  His eyes were locked on her and her body, her disloyal body, reacted to him as it always had. That disgusted her. How could she want him after what he had done? Why was her body still so in tune to this man that she had branded a monster? What woman in her right mind would want a man who had done the things he had done? What woman would want a man who had given up on their future?

  “Are you okay darling? You seem tense.” Millicent pulled away from Simon but held onto his arms. He looked at Millie, then back at Lilly, and then Millie again.

  “I’m fine…just tired. We finished the meetings earlier than planned. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I want you to meet my decorator. Well, I guess technically she’s our decorator.” Lilly could tell by the subtle shift in Millicent’s posture that Millicent felt the underlying tension in the room.

  “So you’re Decorator?” He sounded anxious and on edge. “You’ve worked with Millie long enough by now to realize she has an annoying habit of not using a person’s name, just their title. I imagine you know me as Fiancé.” Simon snorted and Millicent playfully slapped his shoulder.

  “I can’t help it. I’m bad with names.” Millicent pouted. “Darling, this is Lillian Rouilard, Lilly for short.” Millicent winked at Lilly, and then added, “Lillian, I’m pleased to introduce you to my fiancé, Simon Lane

  .” Millicent’s eyes narrowed as if a thought had occurred to her. Then she seemed to shake it off. Lilly nodded at Simon rather than extend her hand.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  That was all he said, and although they hadn’t touched, Lilly could feel his tension as if it were her own. She was acutely aware of the unease he was feeling and the strain in his voice. Years melted. Her first thought was to tell him it was okay. Did Millicent know every word he said was spoken with difficulty? Did Millicent recognize the anxiety in his voice?