A Billionaire Between the Sheets (16 page)

There was a long pause before people broke out in laughter. Everyone but Babette. Deacon flashed them a slight smile before looking back at Olivia, whose face still burned.

“Two things,” he said in a voice for her ears only. “First, I want you to be at the photo shoot in fifteen minutes. I need your creative input. And second, I want you to break it off with Parker.”

Before her mouth could finish dropping open, he headed for the door. He stopped halfway there and turned around. “Make that three things: The corset. I'd like to see it modeled…soon.”

I
t didn't take long for Deacon to figure out that he hated being photographed. Or maybe what he hated was being photographed by a photographer who had singled Deacon out for his outrageous flirting.

“No, gorgeous.” The photographer squatted in front of Deacon with his camera poised. “When I said I wanted a seductive smile, I didn't mean a badass glare that would start a barroom brawl. Why don't you try going to your happy place, sweetheart? Somewhere calming and seductive. Like a candlelit bedroom with a bottle of chilled champagne and a sexy naked woman stretched out on the bed.” He winked. “Or a naked, very appreciative man.”

His brothers, who were standing beside him, burst out laughing. Which made Deacon wonder if he wasn't going to start a barroom fight after all. He was certainly pissed enough. Not just at the photographer's flirting and his brothers' laughing, but because Olivia had completely ignored him. He had asked her to be here in fifteen minutes and it was going on an hour since he'd tracked her down in the studio. And maybe that was what really pissed him off. He'd had no business tracking Olivia down.

The kiss in the boardroom had made that perfectly clear. He wanted her. Not a couple of stolen kisses, but lots of stolen kisses, followed by lots of steamy sex. And having sex with Olivia was stupid. Money and sex worked only with hookers and porn stars. In real life having sex with business associates could complicate things in a hurry, and things were already complicated enough.

Deacon was enjoying being the boss a little too much. Or maybe what he was enjoying was the challenge of bringing French Kiss back from bankruptcy. It was a pipe dream. In the last few days, he'd discovered the depths of the company's problems, and it would take much more than a hillbilly from Louisiana, even one with a degree in business, to save the company. It would take a miracle. And he had never much believed in miracles.

“I'm done.” Tossing the photographer one final annoyed look, he stepped off the set and ducked around a white umbrella that was being used for lighting. He stopped short when he saw Olivia sitting in the director's chair in one dimly lit corner.

“He's right, you know.” She sounded slightly breathless. She got up, and for the second time that day he noticed how hot she looked. Her hair was down and hung in soft golden waves around her face. The white shirt was loose and sheer. The jeans tight and butt-hugging. And the purple high heels sexy as hell. They clicked against the tile floor as she moved closer. “Women won't be tempted to buy from a surly man.”

“You're here.”

She took a soft breath. “I thought it was an order.” She hooked an arm through his and led him back to his brothers, who were grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Cuz,” Nash greeted her. “Long time no see.”

She smiled, and Deacon tried to remember if she'd ever smiled at him like that. It annoyed him that the answer was no. Of course the smile didn't annoy him as much as Olivia's reaching out to straighten Nash's shirt collar. “Kelly mentioned that you and Grayson don't have a car. Feel free to use my Porsche.”

Deacon would've laughed at the thought of his tall brother being stuffed into Olivia's tiny Porsche, if he hadn't been so pissed at him for flirting.

“How about if we drive home together,” Nash said with a wink. “I'll make you dinner. Unless you've got a date with your boyfriend.”

Suddenly Deacon's anger shifted from Nash to Olivia. No doubt she'd been having dinner every night with Parker while Deacon had been staying late and working his ass off. But her next words took all the starch right out of his anger.

“Parker is no longer my boyfriend.” As if she'd just commented on the weather, she moved over to Grayson. “I liked your beard, but I like you better without it.” She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “There, that's perfect.” She went to stand behind the photographer. “We're ready when you are, Miles.”

Miles studied Deacon. “Do you think you can get Mr. Sexy Pants to stop scowling?”

Deacon ignored him and directed his questions to Olivia. “Why? Why did you break it off with Parker?”

She glanced at the photographer. “Miles, would you excuse me and Mr. Beaumont for a second? We'll be right back.” She headed to a dressing room in the far corner, and when he followed, he found her holding the door and breathing rather shallowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just a little out of breath,” she said before she closed the door and rested her back against it. “I broke up with Parker because I wanted to. Not because you ordered me to.”

“I didn't order you.”

She laughed, or more like released her breath in a sexy chuckle. “You really need to learn the difference between asking and ordering, Mr. Beaumont. Asking means a person has the right to decline without penalty. Ordering means that they have a right to decline with one.”

“And exactly what penalty would I implement if you didn't follow my supposed orders?”

She hesitated for only a second before answering. “You'd sell the company.”

The words and her somber expression broadsided him, and it took more than a second for him to reply. “You really think I'd do that? Especially after all the hours I've put in?”

She studied him with her clear, direct eyes. “Why, Deacon? Why have you worked so hard to save a company that you don't even care about? And don't tell me it has to do with the money. You could've had the money without the work if you had just signed the contract.”

She was right. After a couple of sleepless nights, he'd figured out that it wasn't about the money. Nor was it about the power and big office that came with the job. But he'd be damned before he admitted the truth to her. The truth that it all had to do with his ego and the desire to prove to her and a ghost that he was more than just a stupid hillbilly from Louisiana. And if that wasn't stupid, he didn't know what was.

“So you broke up with Parker because you wanted to?” he asked.

“I'm not good at taking orders—even with the fear of losing the company. I did all three things because I wanted to.”

Deacon's eyes widened. “Three?”

A smile tipped her mouth. “Yep.” Before he could get his head around that, she opened the door and walked out of the dressing room, leaving Deacon too stunned to move. It took Miles hustling in to break through his daze.

“Come on, lover boy,” he said as he pulled Deacon back to the set. “Time is money.” He smoothed Deacon's hair before tapping his nose. “Remember. Sexy thoughts.”

Deacon didn't need the reminder. As soon as Miles moved out of the way, his gaze sought out Olivia. She stood to the side, just to the right of one of the umbrellas. The area she stood in was too shadowed for him to tell if she wore something beneath the white shirt. But Miles had no more than crouched down and aimed his camera than she pulled something from the opened neck of her blouse. And it didn't take more than an eye-narrowing to see that it was a ribbon. A purple ribbon.

“Perfect!” Miles yelled before his camera rapidly clicked. “Just keep those naughty thoughts coming, my sweet. Women are going to eat you up with a spoon.”

Deacon didn't want women. He wanted one.

Deacon allowed the photo shoot to last much longer than he wanted, but only because it seemed to mean so much to Olivia. She stood right behind Miles, offering up suggestions and a multitude of praises when they hit a pose she liked. Occasionally she would stop the shoot and hurry over to fix a shirt collar or straighten a piece of wayward hair. The ribbon had disappeared, but in the bright lights he had no trouble seeing the outline of the corset through the white of her shirt. And when she smoothed his hair off his forehead, he couldn't help leaning down and whispering in her ear.

“With or without panties?”

She froze with her fingertips resting ever so softly against his temple and her breath falling in warm puffs against the skin of his neck. Her gaze lifted to his. “Without.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control the wave of desire that threatened to overtake him. It was a losing battle. It had been brewing since the moment she'd flaunted the ribbon. Or possibly from the moment he'd first kissed her sweet, plump lips. Deacon opened his eyes to discover Olivia licking those lips with a heat in her eyes that scorched his very soul.

“Enough fawning, Olivia,” Miles said. “I only need a few more shots.”

Without taking his eyes off her, Deacon spoke. “No more shots. Olivia and I have a meeting to attend.” Then without one thought for how it would look to the photographer or his brothers, he took her hand and pulled her around the extension cords and lighting umbrellas and out the door.

“What are you doing?” she whispered as he led her to the elevator. She struggled to catch her breath, and he now knew why. “People are going to talk.”

“Let them.” He pulled her into the elevator, where he would've kissed her and taken a quick peek at the corset if two women hadn't joined them. He probably should have let go of Olivia's hand. Instead he continued to hold it as Olivia greeted the women in a strained voice.

“Hi, Elaine…Tiffany.”

They nodded a greeting, and then studied their purple high heels until the elevator doors opened on the executive floor. Hoping to avoid Kelly, Deacon headed for Olivia's office. Unfortunately, his assistant seemed to be everywhere these days.

“Oh, there you are,” she said as she hustled up. “I was just going to interrupt the photo shoot to tell you that Parker—I mean Mr. Calloway—wants a meeting with you, and he seemed pretty pissed off. Like so pissed off that he might explode. I think it might have to do with the rotten egg I placed in his desk drawer—”

“Later,” Deacon said as his hand tightened on Olivia's. “Right now I want you to hold all calls and interruptions.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled Olivia into the office, closed the door, and locked it. His grip loosened, but he refused to let her go. “I think you know where this is headed.”

Her breath caught. “Yes.”

“And you know that mixing business with pleasure isn't smart.”

A smile tipped up the corners of her mouth before she bit her lip as if to contain it. “I guess that depends on your definition of
smart
. A very smart man just recently told me that sometimes it's better to go with your gut than with your head.”

He didn't even try to bite back his smile. “And what is your gut telling you?”

She linked her fingers with his. “That it would be really stupid to pass up this opportunity.”

Something inside his gut said the same thing. Although he wasn't as concerned with the feeling in his gut as he was with the feeling in his chest. His heart thumped much too rapidly. As if it was scared of an impending doom. He ignored it and tugged Olivia closer.

As much as he wanted to devour her, he took his time. Linking their hands, he lowered his head and sipped at her soft lips. One kiss. Two. Three—followed by twenty more. She tasted like sweet tea. Smooth, amber-colored sweet tea that had been brewed and steeped to perfection. And as with the Southern drink, sipping Olivia was addictive. Something he could've gone on doing forever if she hadn't released his hands, slid her fingers through his hair, and pulled him closer for a deep, wet, tongue-mating kiss that had his cock lengthening and his hands curling around her waist. A waist that had been cinched into a rigid cage of material and ribbon. A waist he could easily span.

She pulled back from the kiss, her eyelids lowered, pupils dilated, and breath coming out in soft pants. “So I guess you want to see the new design, boss.”

Before he could do more than nod, she reached for the fly of her jeans. It took more than a few hip wiggles to get the jeans down her hips. She stepped out of the heels before peeling them off.

“Keep the shoes,” Deacon said.

Her eyes grew even hotter as she kicked the jeans out of the way and slipped her feet back into the heels. Starting at the top, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, her nimble fingers twisting and sliding to reveal a peek of soft cleavage, followed by dark purple crisscrossed with ribbon resting against a patch of golden blond. Deacon's breath mimicked Olivia's, and he had to fist his hands to keep from reaching out for her and stopping the seductive show.

And she was seductive. Not only now but in a business suit. Or a wet T-shirt and shorts. Or a sundress and panties. Since meeting him she'd seduced him with whatever she wore. Once the shirt was unbuttoned, she merely shrugged her shoulders and it dropped to the floor.

He had seen numerous women in sexy lingerie, but none had made his heart feel as if it would jump from his chest. Or his breath rush out. Or his knees almost buckle. And maybe it wasn't the lingerie as much as the body inside. Her breasts were small but perfect, offered up like two scoops of vanilla ice cream in a bowl of purple velvet. Her torso, encased in velvet and crisscrossed ribbon, curved down to a small waist before flaring out over shapely hips. Silver binding lined the scalloped edges like a curtain framing the thin strip of hair a shade darker than the golden waves that fell around Olivia's face. He allowed his eyes a long moment of worship before he lifted his gaze.

“So what do you think?” she said in that breathless voice that made him want to devour her.

He pushed away from the door, hoping his knees would hold. “I think we need to up our order.” He reached out and lifted an end of the ribbon, rubbing it between his fingers. “What's the population of men in the world?”

“A couple billion, but women are our buyers.”

“Believe me, men are going to buy this.” He took the end of the ribbon and brushed it over the top of one breast, then dipped into the cleavage before stroking the other breast. He went back and forth until her eyes closed and she swayed on her heels. Then he dropped the ribbon and scooped out her breasts. He gently squeezed and watched with heavy lids as her deep rose-colored nipples puckered up like twin sets of lips. Unable to resist the invitation, he lowered his head and kissed first one and then the other.