A Billionaire Between the Sheets (12 page)

“Fifty cents on the dollar is not a fair—” Olivia started, but Deacon held up his hand and stopped her.

“You're right, Ms. Bradley. Right now, with the way things are, a couple new collections aren't going to pull the company out of bankruptcy. After looking at the accounts, I think there are—as my grandfather would say—too many holes in the bucket. But instead of throwing away the bucket, we need to find out where all the money is going and plug up some holes. And it's interesting that most of the problems are in your department.” He gave her a pointed look before directing his next words to the board. “Now, if you want to take a vote, we certainly can. But I think I can tell you how it's going to turn out. And if you want to jump ship, I'm sure Olivia will be glad to take your resignations. Now, if that's all the concerns, this meeting is adjourned.”

After only a few exchanged glances, the boardroom cleared. Although there was little doubt in Olivia's mind that there would be some major discussions on the way out. Once the door was closed, Nash spoke up.

“Impressive, Deacon. I always knew you were meant to be a boss.” He grinned. “You certainly practiced enough on Grayson and me.”

“I don't think it was Deacon as much as Olivia's presentation that won them over,” Grayson said. “Your designs are beautiful.”

Olivia couldn't accept the compliment without giving one of her own. “Your sketches didn't hurt. How did you have time to do those?”

Grayson yawned and stretched his hands over his head. “It wasn't that hard, but I could certainly use some sleep now. What hotel are you staying at, Deacon?”

Before Deacon could answer, Olivia found herself speaking up. “After all you did for me, you're not staying at a hotel. You're staying at my house.” She grabbed a notepad and pen off the table. “Here's the address and security code—although now that I think about it, the garage door is probably still open.” She shook her head. And here she thought she'd been so focused. “Babette is sleeping in the guest room, but you and Nash can take the bedroom next to mine until she leaves.”

Nash took the piece of paper. “Thank you, Cousin Olivia.” He smirked at Deacon before he followed Grayson out.

When they were gone, Olivia turned to Deacon. “Why'd you do it?”

He started shutting down the laptop. “You shouldn't leave your garage door open. Big cities have high crime.”

“I get distracted easily.” Right then she was distracted by the way Deacon looked in a suit and by the way his long fingers stroked over the keyboard, all smooth and efficient. She couldn't help wondering if that's how they would feel sliding over her body.

“Nash thinks I have a hero complex,” he said.

She was so mesmerized by his fingers and the fantasy they evoked that it took her a moment to catch up with the conversation. “And you see me as needing to be saved?”

He closed the laptop and turned to her, his eyes intent and his expression solemn. “Don't you? You have great ideas, Olivia.” He waved a hand at the laptop. “Your designs are amazing. Any man would love to see these on a woman. And any woman would feel sexy as hell wearing them. But for some reason, you decided they weren't good enough and hid them away. Then you came up with some bizarre plan to design men's lingerie with a kook from Paris.”

“I still think a line of men's underwear and pajamas will work.”

Deacon took a step closer. “Then why don't you design them? Not Babette, but you? I'll tell you why. Because you don't think you're good enough. You don't think you're good enough to design men's underwear. Or women's lingerie. And you don't think you're good enough to be in charge of French Kiss.”

Her temper surfaced. “I'm good enough! I spent most of my life around the lingerie business. And regardless of what the board members think, Michael didn't hand me anything. I've worked my ass off for every promotion I've gotten.”

“That's not why the board members don't trust you, Olivia. It's not because you're the boss's daughter. And it's certainly not because you're not smart or talented enough. It's because you don't believe in yourself. And if you don't believe in yourself, no one else will.”

Olivia tried to pretend that the truth didn't hurt. But it hurt. It hurt so much that she couldn't reply without busting into tears. Even though she didn't speak, one single tear slipped out and trickled down her cheek. She ducked her head and tried to hide it, but it was too late.

“Hey.” Deacon stepped closer and tipped up her chin, catching the tear with his thumb. “I didn't mean to make you cry. I just want you to realize that you have everything you need to save this company.”

She shook her head. “No, I don't. I could never do what you did today. Not only am I flighty and unorganized I'm non-confrontational.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You seem to have no problem confronting me.”

“Only because you can be a real jerk sometimes.”

He laughed. “Only sometimes? I must be moving up in Olivia's world. Although you've yet to invite me to stay at your house. And technically, while my brothers helped, I was the one who saved your ass.”

“And I have little doubt that you're going to make me pay.”

His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Oh, you're going to pay, Olivia. Now lift up that skirt and show me your panties.”

T
he words were out of Deacon's mouth before he could stop them. Not that he didn't know where they came from. The moment Olivia had started clicking through Grayson's drawings, Deacon's mind had stripped off Olivia's gray power suit and dressed her in each article of lingerie. From the sheer, sexy nightgowns to the hot leather corsets. And it didn't help that Grayson had put Olivia's features on the model in each drawing. It didn't help at all.

Olivia blinked. “Excuse me?”

He could've teased his way out of it, but he discovered he didn't want to. “Your panties,” he repeated. “I want to see them.” He watched a blush stain her cheeks, and her breasts lift in a quick inhalation of breath.

“B-but why?”

“Let's just say that your designs intrigued me, and I've been wondering what style you chose as your own.”

She released a breath, and the moist heat brushed over his face and relocated beneath the fly of his jeans. She glanced at the door, and then whispered, “Someone could walk in.”

The fact that she was even considering it excited him even more. He smoothed back the wisp of hair that had come loose from the clip at the back of her head. “Don't tell me you're too bashful. Not when you've showed me your panties before.”

“I was fourteen.”

“It was still hot.”

Her eyes widened. “You thought I was hot?”

“Yes. So are you going to show them to me or make me guess?” When she only stared back at him with those pretty green eyes, he continued. “Let's see. You have on a gray suit so I'm going to go with the purple satin panties with the little ribbon bows.”

She shook her head.

“The white see-through thong with the lace?”

Another shake, and her hair came unclipped, falling around her face in golden waves.

He lifted a strand and held it to his nose. It smelled as he thought sunshine would. Clean, fresh, and hot. “Please don't disappoint me and tell me you've got on a pair of panties that are big enough to dry my two-ton truck after the car wash,” he teased.

There was a moment's hesitation before she spoke so softly that he had to tip his head closer just to hear. “What with everything, I haven't had a chance to do laundry.” She swallowed and blushed even brighter. “So…”

Her words trailed off, taking all the oxygen in the air with them. He felt light-headed and woozy. Or maybe his condition had more to do with all the blood rushing to his dick. Whatever the cause, he couldn't think past one thing…Olivia wasn't wearing any panties. And hadn't been wearing panties the entire time she'd been doing the PowerPoint presentation.

What had started out as an attempt to get a little peek escalated to an overwhelming desire to touch. In under a second he had her pinned against the wall, one hand cradling her jaw as his lips claimed hers, and the other reaching for the edge of her skirt. And sure enough, above the tops of the sheer, silky, thigh-high stockings was nothing but sweet, warm, welcoming flesh.

“Damn,” he mumbled against her mouth as he dipped two fingers into her heat. The hot, wet sheath had him almost ejaculating right then and there like some horny, inexperienced kid. For a man who had always prided himself on being different from his father, on having complete control over his lust, his body's reaction was scary as hell.

He dropped his hands and moved away as if Olivia were a match and he a stick of dynamite. “Look, I apologize. I had no business—”

Before he could finish the thought, Olivia became the aggressor. In two steps she had his hair gripped in her fingers and his mouth scorched by her lips and tongue. Unprepared for her forward assault, he stumbled back and tripped over the leg of a chair, sitting down hard on the boardroom table. And damned if the woman didn't crawl right on top of him.

Between the hot kisses and the sweet center riding the hard ridge of his fly, control seemed like a petty thing to pride himself on. So he let the flame catch and the fuse sizzle toward explosion. Which is exactly what would have happened if the door hadn't opened.

He pulled away to find Nash peeking in.

“Sorry,” his brother said with a smirk a mile wide. “I was just going to see if you were coming.” His eyebrows waggled. “But I guess the answer to that would be yes.”

“Get the fuck out,” Deacon growled.

“Yes, sir, boss,” Nash said. “But don't be surprised if someone else comes a-knockin'—someone who isn't as friendly. That metrosexual dude that was hanging out by the elevators last night isn't real happy that you and Olivia are still having a…meeting.”

“Parker?”

“That would be the one.” He flashed another grin before closing the door.

“Oh. My. God,” Olivia breathed, grabbing his attention.

She looked sexy as hell with her blond hair all wild around her face and her skirt hiked up to show off the tops of her thigh-highs. It was too bad that her face had gone from flushed passion to pale shock. He had to admit that he felt a little stunned himself. He did not lose it like this. Ever. He was the logical, level-headed Beaumont. And yet from the moment he met Olivia, she'd made him crazy. But he refused to let her know that. Tucking his hands behind his head, he smiled up at her. “Well, I think you've inspired another new line, Olivia. Women might not pay for invisible panties, but I know men would.”

Her eyes darkened. “You are such a jerk!” She climbed off him, offering one more view of heaven that stuck with him long after her heels hit the floor. “Would you stop gawking,” she hissed, “and get off the table. Parker could walk in at any minute.”

Those words made him stay right where he was. “What is up between you and Parker, anyway? I mean, the guy doesn't seem to know where you are half the time. What kind of a boyfriend is that?”

“The type of boyfriend most women want—the non-stalking type.” She got on her hands and knees and looked under the table. “What happened to my hair clip? Do you have it?”

“You say that like you think I'm the stalking type. I'm not a stalker. I just like to know where I can find my woman.”

Olivia stood and glared at him. “That terminology went out with the cavemen. Women aren't possessions.”

“They are if they're mine.” He sat up. “And if you're my woman, I don't mind you calling me your man.”

Her eyes flickered as if she'd just thought of something. “And are you someone's man?”

“If I were, I wouldn't be looking at other women's underwear—or non-underwear. Just like if you were truly Parker's woman, you wouldn't have let me.”

“I-I…”

He lifted an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. Instead she released an exasperated grunt and headed for the door, taking a moment to smooth her hair and her skirt before she opened it. Nash stood guard on the other side, his back to the room and his front to Parker Calloway, who looked about ready to bust like an overfilled balloon. When he saw Olivia, he released some hot air.

“This cretin”—he pointed a finger at Nash, who had stepped out of the way—“refused to let me in the boardroom. He said that you were still having a meeting.” He glared at Deacon, but spoke to Olivia. “What is going on, Olivia?”

While Olivia struggled to explain, Deacon hopped up from the table. “This cretin happens to be my brother.” He spied Olivia's hair clip under a chair and leaned down to pick it up. “Which means he's your superior. So I'd be careful if I were you.”

Parker's gaze ran over a grinning Nash, and his eyes widened. “My superior? You've got to be kidding.”

Deacon walked to the door and stood next to Olivia. “One thing you need to learn, Mr. Calloway, is that I never kid. I'm what you would call a no-bullshit kind of guy.” He opened up Olivia's hair clip and clipped it to the lapel of her jacket, his hand not-so-accidentally brushing across the top of her breast and turning her face red all over again. But this time he figured it was more from anger than embarrassment. “I enjoyed our meeting, Ms. Harrington.” With a wink he shouldered his way past Parker and headed down the hall.

As soon as he rounded the corner to Olivia's office, Kelly jumped up from her desk like an expectant puppy.

“So how did it go? Did they like the new collections?” She came around the desk. “I mean, I thought it was brilliant and the titles are so romantic. Who wouldn't want to own a pair of Romeo panties?”

Deacon headed for the office. “I appreciate you pulling the PowerPoint presentation together so quickly this morning, Kelly.” A thought struck him, and he paused and slowly turned. “I'm wondering if you could do something else for me.”

“Anything, sir.”

“I want you to come up with an emergency that will get Parker Calloway out of the office—like now.”

It was a pretty underhanded thing to do. Deacon had no business screwing around in whatever Olivia had going on with Parker. In fact he should be thankful that she was in a relationship and wouldn't put too much time or thought into what had just taken place in the boardroom. But for some damned reason, Deacon wanted her to put some time and thought into it. Probably because he knew he would. Even now he couldn't forget the heat of her kisses or how she'd looked straddling him. And he'd be damned if he let Olivia be alone with Parker when she wasn't wearing any underwear.

“Is Mr. Calloway the one who is skimming money?” Kelly asked with wide eyes. “Are we going to case his office?”

Since it wasn't a bad idea, Deacon pointed a finger at her. “Smart girl. Although until we know for sure, it's best if we keep this under our hats.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

Deacon turned to find Nash standing behind him. Not wanting to get into this in front of Kelly, Deacon thanked her and ushered Nash into Olivia's office. The door had barely closed before Nash started in.

“And here I thought you wanted to help Olivia because she was our dear cousin.”

“She's not our damned cousin!” Deacon snapped a little too sharply as he walked around the desk and sat down.

Nash stood over the desk. “Which makes it okay for you to screw her?”

“I didn't screw her.”

“Only because I interrupted you.”

The sleepless night finally caught up with him, and Deacon released his breath and rested his head on the back of the chair. “Fine. I'll admit that things in the boardroom got a little out of hand.”

“Who are you trying to bullshit, Deacon? You didn't just let things get out of hand in the boardroom. You let them get out of hand the minute Olivia showed up with the contract. I get it. You were embarrassed when Donny John dragged us here and tried to mooch money from Uncle Michael. And you were really embarrassed that he did it in front of a girl you thought was pretty.”

“I wasn't worried about what Olivia thought. And I don't know what you're remembering, but she wasn't what you would call pretty. She was too skinny and had braces. Not to mention the pimple on her chin.”

“A pimple? You remember a pimple?”

Deacon grew uncomfortable under his brother's disbelieving gaze, probably because Nash had a point. Why had he remembered a pimple?

“The point I'm trying to make, Deacon,” Nash continued, “is that having sex with Uncle Michael's daughter isn't a good idea.”

The bathroom door opened, and Grayson walked in. “Deacon had sex with Olivia?”

“So that's where you disappeared to,” Nash said. “You've been in there the entire time?”

Grayson flipped a pile of catalogs on the table. “I was doing some research. They need to get a new photographer. The guy they have sucks.” He looked at Deacon. “So you had sex with Olivia?”

“I did not have sex with Olivia.”

“But he's planning to, once he gets rid of her boyfriend,” Nash said. “So what's wrong with the catalogs? I think the models are amazing.”

“That's the problem. They're too amazing. I'm not saying that models shouldn't be beautiful, but they should also look real. And beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes.”

While Nash rolled his eyes, Grayson flopped down in the chair across from the desk. “So since the board members liked Olivia's lingerie line, when are we going home? I promised Ms. Stanford that I'd paint her kitchen again. Even though I've painted it three times in the last six months.” He shook his head. “She seems to like the color on the swatch, but hates it when it gets up on the wall.”

Nash laughed. “I bet she does.” He looked at Deacon. “So that's a good question, Deacon. When are we going home?”

Deacon looked away from his brother, and his gaze caught on the contract. “Olivia hasn't signed the new contract yet.”

“But we all know that she will,” Nash said. “Only an idiot wouldn't sign it when we gave her such a deal.”

The new contract was set up so Olivia would buy only a portion of the stocks. Then, when the new line of lingerie started making money, she would buy the Beaumonts out for the rest—plus interest.

There was only one small hitch. A hitch that Deacon hadn't exactly made clear to his brothers. If the new line didn't sell and the company went belly-up, the Beaumont brothers would be out millions of dollars. And since he'd convinced his brothers to sign on the dotted line, it was up to him to make sure that the company didn't fail.

“I'm not leaving just yet,” he said. “I want to make sure that everything is on the right track before I come home.”

“But what do you know about the lingerie business, Deacon?” Grayson asked.

He had a good point. Deacon didn't know shit about lingerie. But he knew about business. He knew that the collections Olivia had come up with were going to sell, but that wouldn't be enough. If French Kiss was going to survive, it would need to be assessed and reorganized from the bottom up. And Deacon had always been damned good at organizing. “You're right, Nash. I don't know anything about the lingerie business. But since I now own stock in the company, I need to learn.”