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“Okay”—he held up a hand—“I get that you want me to move into this office. But even if I decide to, you’re not my assistant. You’re Ms. Harrington’s.”
“Look, I’m not putting down Ms. Harrington. I think she’s a real nice lady. But except for a few phone calls and setting up meetings, she really didn’t know what to do with an assistant. And if you’re worried about her being mad, don’t be. I checked in with her just a few minutes ago, and she seems pretty happy right where she is. In fact I’ve never seen her so happy.”
“Where is—?”
“Design studio. Tenth floor.” She popped the headphones on and went back to her computer, yelling her next words. “But beware of Samuel. He doesn’t like non-designers in his domain.”
But it wasn’t some asexual designer who had Deacon pausing just outside the studio door. It was the sight of Olivia standing at a table with all the other designers gathered around her. They were talking about one of her designs, asking questions and throwing out ideas for fabrics. And while she had seemed hesitant in the boardroom, here she seemed right at home. She answered each question competently, didn’t cut off anyone making a suggestion, and yet stood her ground when she needed to. But it wasn’t her confidence that surprised him as much as the happiness that radiated from her like the rays of sunlight that spilled in through the windows.
She had always been attractive, but now she was utterly and completely captivating. And there was a part of him that was jealous as hell that he wasn’t responsible for her look of joy. Which was crazy. Once he made sure French Kiss was solvent, he was out of there. He had no right to be jealous of a group of designers…or her boyfriend.
He was turning to leave when she glanced up. If he’d thought he was captivated before, it was nothing to how he felt when their eyes met. Suddenly he was drowning in twin pools of lush green and a rush of emotions so intense he had trouble catching his breath. Not just from desire, but also from something much more potent. But before he could examine the feelings more closely, his cell phone rang. With a simple nod, he broke eye contact and headed toward the elevators. Shaken, he answered without checking to see who the caller was. Which he regretted as soon as he heard the throaty voice.
“Did you forget something?”
Deacon waited until he was alone in the elevators before he answered. “Hello, Francesca.”
“Hello?” Francesca said. “You stand me up for the Fletchers’ benefit dinner and all you can say is hello? You do realize that those tickets were six hundred dollars a plate.”
Damn, he’d forgotten all about the dinner.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “But you’ve heard about my uncle’s death. There were things I needed to take care of in San Francisco.”
“So I’ve heard. I talked with your father and he mentioned that you and your brothers have come into some money.”
Deacon rolled his eyes. He should’ve known that his father couldn’t keep his mouth shut—especially around a beautiful woman. And even at close to Donny John’s age, Francesca was beautiful.
“Not yet we haven’t.”
“Difficulties with the will?”
“You could say that.”
There was a pause before she spoke. “You don’t need to wait for money, Deacon. I’ve already transferred money into an account for you. All you have to do is say the word and work will start on your dream.”
This was exactly what he’d hoped for—the reason he’d spent the past few months escorting Francesca around. And once he got the money from Olivia, he could pay off Francesca and the condo project would be his free and clear. So why wasn’t he more excited? He stared at the scrolled F and K on the elevator doors. Maybe because he’d gotten a taste of something bigger.
The elevator silently slid to the bottom floor and opened with a ping. Before him the lobby beckoned like Emerald City. Suddenly Deacon realized that he belonged in this world as much as Dorothy belonged in Oz. His life was back in Louisiana without this glitter and glitz. And without the confusing emotions a certain blonde evoked.
He stepped out of the elevator. “Let’s go for it, Francesca. I’ll contact the contractors and we’ll start breaking ground as soon as possible.”
