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CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Something had happened at French Kiss. Something that had Deacon worried. After the phone call in Paris, Olivia immediately sensed a subtle change in him. But surprisingly, she wasn’t concerned. She trusted Deacon to handle the situation, whatever it might be. So rather than question him, she decided to take his mind off it. She had never been much of a seductress, but suddenly she found herself seducing…and loving every minute of it. She enjoyed tempting Deacon. Enjoyed watching his eyes darken and his body tremble with need. Enjoyed feeding that need until it consumed them both.
And she didn’t just enjoy the sex. She enjoyed being with him. Sightseeing. Talking. Or lying together in bed. Which was why she couldn’t help feeling disappointed when she woke and he wasn’t next to her. Sitting up, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and tried to get oriented. She wasn’t in a hotel in Paris. Or on French Kiss’s private plane. She was in her bedroom. An image of Deacon lifting her out of the Porsche and carrying her through the garage came back to her, and she smiled.
He was probably in the bathroom. Or better yet, in the kitchen making coffee. But when she crawled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, he wasn’t there. Nor was he in the kitchen or in any other room of the house. And neither was anyone else. No Nash. No Grayson. And no Babette.
Seeing that it wasn’t yet eight o’clock on a weekday morning, it didn’t seem right. The brothers never went to work before a run and breakfast—usually no earlier than nine o’clock. The thought of their morning run had her stepping out on the balcony and looking up and down the street.
“Good morning, Britney!”
She turned to find Mr. Huckabee sitting on his balcony reading the newspaper. She lifted a hand in greeting. “Good morning.”
He got up, and she was relieved to find his dangling parts covered by a hot pink thong. “What do you think?” He held out his hands and turned to display his flabby butt. “Your houseguest gave them to me. And I must admit that they’re more comfortable than the rhinestone ones. Doris loved the flash, but those stones irritated the hell out of my hemorrhoids—”
She cut him off before things could get grosser. “Well, they look great, and I’ve heard that neon is making a comeback.”
He turned around and grinned. “Babette said the same thing. Once she came down from her LSD trip, she turned out to be a nice girl. I was sorry to hear she’s moving out. Is she going back to Paris?”
Babette wasn’t going back to Paris. It seemed she liked America more than she’d let on, and despite her disastrous line of men’s lingerie, she had done very well on Olivia’s designs. Even Samuel thought so and had hired her as a full-time seamstress.
“No,” she yelled over to Mr. Huckabee, “she’s not going back to Paris. She’s getting an apartment here in San Francisco.”
“Well, I’ll miss her.”
Olivia would too. At times Babette had been annoying, but like a hyperactive poodle, she had something lovable about her.
“You haven’t seen her or my male houseguests this morning, have you?” she asked.
“Babette headed for the trolley this morning. But I haven’t seen the boys since yesterday.” He moved to the railing. “Now that Babette’s leaving, I hope you’re not thinking about having a little ménage. Because Doris and I tried that a few times and it never worked out—one person always feels like they got the short end of the stick. Now orgies are a different story. In an orgy there’s always plenty of sticks to go around.”
She tried to keep the orgy visual out of her brain, but there it was in a tangle of wrinkled limbs and limp body parts. She was relieved when her cell phone rang.
“I’d better get that, Mr. Huckabee,” she said before hurrying inside to answer the phone. Deacon had bought her a new phone in Paris, along with a cute little cover with the Eiffel Tower on the back. He said it was to remind her of their trip. But she didn’t need a reminder. She would never forget Paris as long as she lived.
“Olivia?” Her mother’s voice startled Olivia out of her daydream. “Are you there?”
“Sorry, Mom. I guess I forgot to say hello.”
There was an exasperated sigh. “You also forgot to come help me go through Michael’s things. That annoying real estate broker wants to show Michael’s study, and to be honest, I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”
Olivia realized she had put off the job for as long as she could. “Okay, Mom, I’ll head over now.”
“Fine, but we have to be done by one. I have a tennis match at the club.”
After Olivia got off the phone with her mom, she tried calling Deacon. When he didn’t answer his cell phone, she made herself a cup of coffee and headed for the shower. Since Deacon had her car, she called a car service. On the way she tried Deacon again, and when he still didn’t answer, she called the office.
“Mr. Beaumont’s office.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Hi, Kelly, it’s your other boss, Ms. Harrington.”
“Oh, hi! Did you have fun in Paris? Nash told me that Mr. Beaumont took you to look for photo sites. Did you find one?”
“As a matter of fact, we did. I think we’re going to shoot the catalog in Paris.”
“No shit! Oops, sorry about that—but, I mean, Paris. That is way cool.”
Olivia couldn’t contain her excitement. “It was amazing. Just amazing. I took pictures and will tell you all about it when I get to the office. And Deacon—I mean Mr. Beaumont and I talked about it and think that you should come to Paris with us when we do the photo shoot.”
