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“Enough business talk,” Olivia said as she set a plate of fajitas in front of him. “Once you walk through those doors, Mr. Beaumont, you’re mine.”
Deacon grinned and pulled her onto his lap. There was a time when it took a lot to wring a smile out of Nash’s serious older brother. But since marrying Olivia, he smiled often. And if anyone deserved happiness, it was Deacon.
Nash got up. “I think that’s my cue to leave. Thanks for dinner, Livy. Talk to you tomorrow, Deke.”
“Tell Grayson we need his decision on the model for the cover of the swimsuit catalog ASAP,” Deacon said. “I realize he wants her to be perfect, but we need to get that catalog out by March.”
Nash lifted a hand. “Will do.”
That’s exactly what Nash should’ve done. He should’ve gone straight home and talked to Grayson about swimsuit models. Instead, he drove to The Lemon Drop. It was stupid, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Like a damned stalker, he parked his half-ton truck out front and waited. Not for one hour, but for over two. A little after midnight, the last of the patrons came out, and the security gate was pulled down and locked by one of the bouncers. A few minutes later, a group of bartenders, waitresses, and bouncers came around from the back. Most headed for the parking garage next door, but a few walked in different directions.
Nash only had eyes for the dark-haired woman who headed up the street alone. For a second, he wanted to jump out of the car and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing. This wasn’t his small town back in Louisiana where you could walk anywhere at any time of day or night and not worry about being accosted. This was a big city with big criminals. The woman, obviously, needed a keeper.
He waited until she was halfway down the block before he started his truck and followed her. She walked at a fast clip and, at one point, pulled her phone from the purse slung over her shoulder and made a phone call. Obviously, she had gotten a new phone, which made him feel guilty for not getting hers back to her. The guilt lasted for only a second when a thought popped into his head. Who was she calling? Was it a client? A client who would touch her like Nash hadn’t? A man who would give her the orgasm Nash wanted to give her?
There it was.
The truth.
Nash wanted to be the one to touch her, to pleasure her, to give her an orgasm that would rock her world. It went against everything he had been trying to accomplish, but he couldn’t deny the desire. Nor could he stop himself from picking up the burner phone from his cup holder and dialing the only number on it. When the man answered, he made his request.
“Saturday night. The same girl as last time.”
“Chloe?”
Nash slowed the truck in front of an apartment building and made note of the address. “No. I want Eden… only Eden.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Eden spent the next few days Googling the hell out of Nash Beaumont. And there was plenty to Google. All three of the Beaumont brothers had become overnight celebrities when they inherited the French Kiss lingerie company. It wasn’t the fact three brothers had inherited a women’s panty company that intrigued people as much as the fact that the brothers weren’t your typical tycoons.
The Beaumont brothers had grown up in a small town in Louisiana. And from the looks of the run-down shack they’d lived in, they’d been dirt poor. Which made for the perfect “rags to riches” story: Three ordinary Southern boys, who spent their weekdays working at blue-collar jobs and their weekends in camouflage shooting ducks and slamming beers, finally caught a break when their uncle willed them a billion-dollar lingerie company.
Except there was nothing ordinary about the brothers. Not their unbelievable good looks. Their unusual bluish-purple eyes. Or their middle names. Names that had to be a publicity stunt. Because who in their right mind would name their children after famous lovers? Valentino and Romeo weren’t so bad, but Lothario had been an unscrupulous seducer of women.
Although after looking at the pictures of Nash, the name was justified. In almost every photo, he was with a beautiful woman. Or two. Or three. Or a hundred. A hundred sexy lingerie models with perfect bodies. No wonder he had kicked Eden out of his hotel room. As one of the panty billionaires, he knew exactly what a woman’s body should look like. It made sense that he would take one look at her average body and think he’d gotten the booby prize of all booby prizes.
Of course, that brought up another question. Why would a man who had access to hundreds of lingerie models have to hire women? It made no sense. And yet, the voice Eden had heard in the alleyway behind The Lemon Drop sounded exactly like the voice she’d heard in the hotel suite. Of course, she couldn’t write a story based on voice recognition without getting the newspaper sued. She needed substantial proof. She just wasn’t sure how to get it. She did, however, know where to start.
Chloe would have more information on the Dark Seducer. It was even possible that the escort knew who he was. All Eden had to do was get it out of her. Which was something she planned on doing when she met Chloe and Madison at Golden Gate Park on Saturday morning.
Eden woke early and made herself a power shake of spinach, fruit, and protein powder that she’d gotten off a website dedicated to marathon runners. If she was going to run the Bay City Marathon, she was going to do it right. After holding her nose and downing the green, sludgy shake, she threw up. Then she rinsed out her mouth, dressed in her new workout clothes, and headed to the park. Since she was early, she took the time to stretch her leg muscles. Which turned out to be tighter than she thought. She couldn’t even touch her toes without bending her knees, which would give her limber yoga mother a stroke if she could see her. Thinking about her mother reminded her that she needed to call her grandparents and give them her new cell number. She had texted it to her mother, but her grandparents weren’t text savvy.
Mimi and Pops lived only miles away from Eden. It was one of the reasons Eden’s parents hadn’t been too upset about her move to the big city. Not that Eden’s grandparents were the type to keep a close eye on their granddaughter. Having lived in San Francisco in the sixties, they believed in freedom, including free love and free drugs for all. They also believed that Eden should be experiencing life instead of worrying about her career. Something her grandmother started in on as soon as Eden identified herself.
“If you tell me you’re at that conservative newspaper you work for on a Saturday,” Mimi said, “I’m going to give up my pacifist ways and paddle your butt, Eden Tulip Huckabee.”
Eden couldn’t help smiling. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’m at Golden Gate Park, Mimi.”
“The park? Now that’s a perfect place to be on a beautiful Saturday morning. Your grandfather and I attended more than one love-in at Golden Gate Park.” Mimi paused as if remembering. “Back then, life was all about love, peace, and rock and roll. Who are you with?”
“I’m waiting for some friends.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It’s time that you made some friends in the city. You certainly didn’t have very many growing up—something that worried your mother silly. Of course, not as much as your anal personality.”
“I’m not anal, Mimi,” Eden said as she put a foot on a park bench and stretched to the side. “I just like to have a plan and know where I’m going.”
“Yes, I know. Which is exactly why you lost your last lover. You had too many plans. Men like spontaneity in a woman.”
