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The kiss was hot. Wet. Deep. And over much too quickly. He pulled back, and she opened her eyes to find him studying her with a mixture of surprise and desire.
“Olivia?” Her name came off his kiss-dampened lips sounding so sexy that she leaned in for another kiss. He stopped her. “Unless you want me to take you in front of every designer here, I think we need to stop.”
She blinked, and her gaze moved around the room. Sure enough, everyone had stopped working and was watching their boss almost rape the new owner of French Kiss. Samuel looked amused, while Babette shot eye-daggers. Before Olivia could die from embarrassment, Deacon did what he was good at—he took charge. Giving her arms a reassuring squeeze, he spoke loudly enough for the entire room to hear.
“My apologies, Ms. Harrington. Obviously you and your design team are on the right track. That corset had the desired effect.”
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.”
