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Seeing them, Nash nodded at Grayson. “Why don’t you go outside and see if you can find the trench coat guy? I’d like to have a few words with him.”
Grayson’s concerned eyes remained on Olivia as he got up. “Sure.”
Once he was gone, Nash took his vacated chair. “So it’s worse than I thought.”
She hadn’t thought it was that bad until Grayson placed the image of Deacon tying up Francesca in her head. Now she felt like she might be sick. She pushed away the omelet.
Nash swiveled her barstool toward him. Up close he was just as good-looking as any top male model. Maybe even more so. But Olivia discovered that while she could appreciate his good looks, she wasn’t attracted to them. She liked her men a little more bossy and intense.
“You need to know something, Olivia,” he said. “We Beaumonts have a weakness for women. And as much as we might want to ignore the gene our daddy gave us, we can’t help giving in to our need to paint…seduce…or save any female within a mile radius. And more times than not, this weakness leads to a broken heart.”
“Are you worried that I’m going to break your brother’s heart, Nash?”
His eyes turned soft. “No, Olivia. I’m worried he’s going to break yours.”
Since she couldn’t talk around the lump in her throat, she just sat there staring at her clasped hands in her lap. Nash had brought everything into perspective. She hadn’t had sex with some random guy from the office. She’d had sex with a Beaumont. And after being around them, she knew they were different from most men. They were heartbreakers. Men whom women should steer clear of if they had any brains. Obviously Olivia had none. And now it was too late. Her heart might not be broken, but after two days without hearing from Deacon, it definitely felt bruised.
“I’m not saying that Deacon would intentionally hurt you, Olivia,” Nash continued. “He’s a good man. I’m just saying that you should take things slow.”
She had to wonder if having sex on a desk was taking things slow.
“That bird’s back,” Nash said. “If you have a gun, I could take care of him for you. I’m not as good of a shot as Deacon, but from this distance, I’m pretty confident.”
“I’m not. You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn at ten paces.”
The smooth Southern drawl had Olivia’s heart doing a somersault in her chest. She glanced at the doorway to find Deacon standing there, looking extremely sexy in faded jeans and a white button-up shirt. He gave her a lazy smile, the kind that started slow and unfurled into something hot and primal. It made her feel primal—as if she wanted to pounce and devour him. Instead she took an uneven breath and stated the obvious. “You’re back.”
The smile grew, displaying a dimple in one cheek. Deacon had a dimple? It figured. “I’m back,” he said. His gaze sizzled over her pink suit to the toes of her crossed purple heels before moving back to her face. “You’re headed to work?”
After wiping her mouth with a napkin, she got up and smoothed down her skirt. “I was going to catch the trolley.”
Without taking his eyes off her, Deacon took the keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Nash. “You and Gray can take the rental car.”
“I’d rather take the Porsche,” Nash said.
“I’m sure you would.” Deacon continued to stare into her eyes. “But it’s not happening. Now get Gray’s butt in gear and get to French Kiss and keep an eye on things.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Which is a perfect time to catch someone doing something they’re not supposed to be doing.”
“And talking about doing something you’re not supposed to,” Nash said dryly, “where will you be, big brother?”
“Olivia and I are going out of town to do some research.”
Nash stepped closer, and the hard look returned. “I’m not liking this, Deacon. She’s in over her head.”
“What is all zee commotion?” Babette stood at the top of the stairs in a pair of ugly poodle pajamas. “Can’t a woman sleep in on a Saturday morning?”
Without a word to his brother or Babette, Deacon took Olivia’s hand and led her down the stairs to her bedroom on the second level. She had made up her mind to take Nash’s advice. Unfortunately, Deacon had other plans. Within two seconds flat, he had the door closed and Olivia in his arms. The kiss was hot and deep, and almost made up for the lack of communication.
Almost.
Olivia pulled back. “Why didn’t you call?”
He looked surprised by the question. “I thought you didn’t want a stalker for a boyfriend. So I figured I’d give you some time to consider the question.”
“The question?”
