A Billionaire Between the Sheets (13 page)

Nash studied him. “Don't you mean
we
, Deacon?”

“Are you saying you want to stay and help, little brother?”

“I'm saying that you're right. As stockholders, we need to keep an eye on our investment.” He frowned. “And our big brother.”

W
hat the hell is going on, Olivia?” Parker didn't even wait for Olivia to close the door of the boardroom before he started in. And she couldn't blame him. She wanted to ask herself the same question.

What the hell is going on, Olivia? How could you almost have sex with Deacon Beaumont on the boardroom table?

There was no good answer. Save for one. Deacon was very good at giving orders and having people follow them.
Now lift up your skirt and show me your panties
.
And she'd done it. Not because he'd liked her designs and given her a way to save French Kiss, but because of the look in his eyes. A hungry, pleading look that wiped out all thoughts of resistance. Then he'd kissed her, and her brain had stopped thinking and desire had taken over. She wanted Deacon. And if Nash hadn't opened the door, she would've had him right there on the boardroom table.

She closed her eyes and cringed.

“Olivia? Are you listening to me?”

Parker's angry voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes to find him glaring at her.

“I'm sorry, Parker.” She sat down in the chair and studied her hands like a guilty kid in the principal's office. “I should've explained things to you sooner.”

“What things? Don't tell me you're having an affair with your cousin.”

Her gaze flashed up. “No! Of course I'm not having an affair with Deacon.” Certainly two kisses didn't constitute an affair. “And he's my step-cousin.”

“He's a jackass.” Parker stood over her. “A jackass you need to get rid of ASAP.”

It wasn't what he said as much as how he said it that took Olivia by surprise. He wasn't offering advice. He was issuing an order. Something that he had never done before—not even in the bedroom. Since he had caught her and Deacon in a compromising position and was no doubt allowing jealousy to control his decision-making, she tried to ignore his tone.

“I can't fire him, Parker. Michael left him and his brothers the majority of stock in the company. Which means they own French Kiss.”

“So I heard, and I also heard that you were going to buy them out. So do it and get the Beaumonts out of here.”

At one time she'd thought the same way. She couldn't wait to have the Beaumont brothers sign the contracts and go home. But things had changed with just one PowerPoint presentation. What had made Deacon do it? Why had he taken the time when he could've easily walked out the door with fifty million and left all the problems to her?

“I hope you realize that you won't have a company if you let those hillbillies run it,” Parker said.

“I won't have a company if I don't.” The words came out before she could even think about them. But she quickly recognized them as the truth. She might not like Deacon, but she needed him. The presentation had been good and Grayson's sketches amazing, but there was little doubt in her mind that Deacon's strong, commanding personality was what had sealed the deal.

Parker knelt in front of her and took her hands. “And maybe that's not a bad thing, Olivia. Maybe it's time to let go of French Kiss and move on. I deal with our accounts daily, and French Kiss isn't going to make it, especially with those cretins running it. So let's forget about French Kiss and start our own lingerie company. I've put a little money aside and, with your money, we could make a real go of it.” His eyes got a funny gleam in them. “In fact, why don't we get married?”

Olivia felt like she'd been punched hard in the stomach and had all the wind knocked out of her. And somehow she didn't think that was a normal reaction to a marriage proposal—even a really bad one. The conversation with Deacon came back to haunt her, and she had to wonder if he wasn't right. If she was Parker's woman, why had she let Deacon kiss her? The answer came quickly. Because she didn't see herself as Parker's woman. She saw them as two business associates who occasionally had dinner and sex. And not even very good sex.

“Thank you,” she said as humbly as possible. “But I can't marry you, Parker. We don't even know each other. I've never met your parents, and you've never met my mother. I don't even know if you have a pet, and you know nothing about Jonathan.” Not that the seagull was a pet. But now that she thought about it, he was the closest she'd come to owning one.

After only a moment's hesitation, Parker released her hands and stood up. “Deacon seduced you, didn't he? Maybe you haven't had sex, but you want to.” Olivia couldn't help the heat that filled her face.

“Great!” He threw up his hands and turned away. “That's just great.” A few minutes passed before he turned back around. “So you're planning on staying and running the company with that cretin and his brothers?” When she didn't answer, a look of disgust entered his eyes. “I should've known you'd do anything for French Kiss.” She couldn't blame him for being angry when she had turned down his marriage proposal and practically told him she wanted to have sex with Deacon. She should've adamantly denied it. Except she couldn't. She did want to have sex with Deacon. Which was wrong. So terribly wrong.

“I'm sorry, Parker,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, “me too. This is going to make things much more difficult.”

She nodded. “But I hope you don't quit. I'm sure we can still work together—”

A knock sounded on the door before Kelly stuck her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but I thought Mr. Calloway would like to know that his car is being towed.”

“What?” Parker hurried to the door. “Why would it be getting towed? I parked it in the space I always park it in.”

Kelly shrugged. “I couldn't tell you. All I know is that the security guy from downstairs called to say it was towed away.”

“They already took it?”

Kelly nodded. “I'm afraid so. But the guard did get the name of the company, and I'm sure you can track them down and clear up the matter.”

Parker didn't even glance at Olivia before he brushed past Kelly, who seemed to be a little too happy about the situation. Although her smile dropped when she looked at Olivia.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about Parker's car getting towed?”

“No. Talk about breaking up with him. Although I can't say as I blame you. That was one sucky proposal. He should've at least taken you to dinner and hidden a huge diamond in a rose. My friend's boyfriend hid the ring in a Ding Dong. The diamond wasn't big, but it was big enough to chip a tooth.”

Olivia stared at her. “So you were eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“I had to. You certainly wouldn't want me to interrupt you boinking each other, would you?” She covered her mouth. “Sorry, I promised Mr. Beaumont that I wouldn't talk about sex anymore at the office.”

It annoyed her to no end that Deacon had had the discussion with Kelly that Olivia should've had a long time ago—and that Kelly had actually listened. Of course she shouldn't have been surprised. It was obvious that Deacon had a way of getting people to do what he wanted them to.

Kelly moved into the room. “Of course, if we were girlfriends just shooting the shit on our break, he probably couldn't get mad at that.” She grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to Olivia. “So what's going on? Did you have sex with Mr. Beaumont? Because if you did, you are my new hero. I mean the man is a god—a walking, talking sex god. And any woman who gets to worship at his altar should consider herself lucky.”

“I did not have sex with Mr. Beaumont.”

Kelly didn't look fazed. “But you're going to, right? Because anyone can see that the guy would like to bend you over his desk and—”

“Kelly!” she said.

Kelly held up her hands. “Fine. But I think you could use a good boinking to relieve all that stress you carry around with you. Sex is a great stress reliever, and Mr. Beaumont looks like a man who knows his way around the bedroom.”

“I'm not worried about getting around a bedroom with Mr. Beaumont,” Olivia said. “I'm worried about getting the new designs made in time for the fashion show. Which means that you'll need to set up a meeting with the designers for this afternoon so we can start—”

Kelly cut her off. “I'm sorry, but I can't. Mr. Beaumont has a list a mile long of things I need to do for him.”

Olivia bristled. “Mr. Beaumont is not your boss. I am.”

Kelly held up her hands again. “Then you need to explain that to him. I'm only trying to do my job.”

Olivia's anger boiled as she started down the hall to her office. If the man thought he was going to take her assistant, he had another think coming. He might've saved her butt today, but that didn't mean he could completely take over. Seething, she jerked open the door of her office to find Deacon sitting at her desk, looking like a cover model for
GQ
magazine. His hair was mussed and his gaze intent as he studied the computer screen. He'd removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and the muscles of his forearms flexed as he typed.

Just that quickly all her anger melted, replaced with lust so hot and thick that it took her breath away. The whoosh of released air had him glancing over.

“Olivia. Just the person I wanted to see,” he said. “I thought we should meet with the designers this morning. The sooner we start the collections the better, don't you think?” When she didn't say anything, he looked concerned. “Livy? What is it?”

It took a strong will to shake her head while drowning in desire. “Nothing,” she squeaked as she took a step back. “Nothing at all. I just stopped by to tell you that I-I'll take care of meeting with the designers.” She turned and hurried out the door on wobbly legs. It wasn't until she was on the elevator that her breath came back and her pulse slowed.

Kelly was right. Deacon was a god, and Olivia really wanted to worship at his altar.

With Michael's stroke, the funeral, and the Beaumont brothers, it had been a while since Olivia had stopped by the design studio. It was a huge, airy room that covered one side of the tenth floor, with full-length windows facing the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. While you got only a partial view from the large corner offices, here you got the entire view. It was spectacular, but no more spectacular than the sight of worktables cluttered with sewing machines, bolts of fabric, tape measures, scissors, and patterns. Unfortunately, no one was working at the tables. The designers were all huddled in one corner of the room gossiping.

“…I kid you not, bitches.” Jose waved his hand dramatically. “I heard the man just walked into that boardroom as sweet as you please and told those uppity snobs what end was up—no please, thank you, or go to hell about it. I swear I just love a man who knows how to take charge.”

“I don't care how well he takes charge,” Margo said. “I care about keeping my job. Is he going to sell or is he going to keep the company?”

“From what I heard, he's going to keep it. He has three new collections coming out.”

“Three?” Effie asked. “That means—”

Samuel Sawyer stepped out of his office. He was the head designer and a man who had always intimidated Olivia. He never had a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his fashionable suits. If he smiled, she had never seen it. He usually wore a solemn look that bordered on a frown.

“If the rumors are true,” he said, “then we'd better get busy and quit gossiping like a bunch of overfed hens.” He glanced over and saw Olivia standing in the doorway. He acknowledged her with a nod before clapping his hands and getting his designers back to work. When they were busy at their tables, he motioned her into his office. It was as fastidiously neat and somber as Samuel. There were no family pictures on his desk. Not a speck of dust or dirt either. Just a stack of design books and the first laptop ever made.

Once in his office, he gave Olivia an air peck on either cheek. “How are you holding up, doll?”

It was the first time anyone had asked, and Olivia felt like dissolving in a puddle of tears. But knowing that would not go over well with Samuel, she nodded. “I'm fine. I miss him, though.”

“Don't we all,” he said with no emotion on his face whatsoever. “Now what brings you here today? I'm assuming this has to do with the new owners.”

“Have you met them?”

“I think one of them showed up in the studio this morning. It was before any of the other designers had arrived. I was on the phone with a new fabric broker and got a chance to observe him. I'd say he was an artist by the way he studied the design board.”

“Grayson,” Olivia said. “He's the youngest Beaumont. And he is an artist. An amazing artist. You'll be seeing his work shortly.”

“So the rumors are true? These Beaumont brothers from Louisiana are going to take over?”

She walked to the window that looked out on the studio. “For now. They have plans for three collections.”

“This Grayson's designs?”

She felt her face flush. “Actually, they're mine.”

There was an audible sigh, followed by, “Well, it's about damned time.”

Olivia turned to find Samuel smiling. Not a big smile, but a slight lifting at the corners of his mouth. “What do you mean?”

The smile died. “I mean it's about damned time that you figured out where you belong. And it's not behind Michael's desk.” He waved a hand. “It's right here in the design studio, creating.”

She stared at him. “But why didn't you say anything? All the time I spent here as a kid and you never once acted like I had any talent.”

He sat down behind the desk. “I told you all the time, Olivia. You just didn't listen. You couldn't. You were too busy concentrating on every word out of Michael's mouth. And Michael wanted you to follow in his footsteps and run the company.”