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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?”
