Free A Billionaire Between the Sheets by Katie Lane

for the door. As soon as she had it open, she spoke to her assistant. But not as to an employee as much as to a friend she didn’t want to offend. “Umm, Kelly, do you think you could reschedule my morning meetings? I need to drop…something off at my house and won’t be back until the afternoon. And once Mr. Beaumont signs the paperwork on my desk, would you mind making him a reservation at a nice hotel and taking care of anything else he might need before he leaves town?” She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes almost daring him to contradict what she’d just told her assistant. “Goodbye, Deacon. Have a safe trip home.”
    Then, with the twitch of shapely hips and the click of purple high heels, she strode toward the elevators. Once she had disappeared around the corner, Kelly spoke.
    “Is there a hotel you prefer?” She gave him a slow once-over, followed by the flirtatious bat of her overly long eyelashes. “Or if you like cozy, you could sleep on my couch, Mr.…”
    “Beaumont. And whatever hotel you choose is fine.”
    Kelly’s eyes widened. “Beaumont? Are you related to Michael Beaumont?”
    “He was my uncle.”
    “So you’re his nephew? The one he willed the company to?”
    Deacon nodded. “That would be me. But you don’t have to worry. I don’t have any plans to take over.”
    Her excitement dimmed. “That’s too bad. What French Kiss needs is someone to take charge. Ms. Harrington is nice and all, but she’s a bit of a pushover. Which might explain why we’re going bankrupt.”
    “Bankrupt? French Kiss is going bankrupt?”
    She glanced in both directions before she leaned in. “Since I’ve only worked here a few months, I don’t have all the details. But rumor has it that, once you find out about the company’s problems, you’re going to sell it to the highest bidder. Which is going to suck for me since my roommate moved out with her rat bastard of a boyfriend and left me with the lease. And do you have a clue how expensive it is to live in San Francisco? Not that I’m hinting for a raise or anything. I would just like to keep my job.”
    Deacon was stunned. Last he’d heard, French Kiss was pulling in billions a year. Now it was going bankrupt? It didn’t make sense. And why would Olivia spend all her money on a company that was going under?
    As if reading his mind, Kelly continued. “Although I think Ms. Harrington has something up her sleeve to save the company. I overheard her talking to her mother about a secret weapon.”
    “A secret weapon?”
    She nodded. “Some Paris designer. Unfortunately, now that person is in jail for sexual assault.” Obviously Olivia’s assistant didn’t mind eavesdropping on phone calls.
    “Do you know what jail Ms. Harrington went to?”
    “No, but I do know that once she bails the designer out of jail, she’s taking her back to her house.” She turned to her computer. “And I have that address.”
    *  *  *
    Olivia didn’t live in a mansion as her stepfather had, but Deacon didn’t doubt for a second that the three-story house had cost a pretty penny. Property values in San Francisco were higher than a cat’s ass, which explained why the houses were snugged together like toes in a tight boot. He’d planned on waiting in front for Olivia to return and was surprised when he pulled up and found the garage door wide open. Had Olivia gotten the secret weapon out of jail that quickly? Or had Kelly given him the wrong address?
    He got out of the rental car and slammed the door, taking note of the For Sale sign stuck in a huge flowerpot of bright-red geraniums by the steps that led to the front door. Olivia was selling her house?
    “You there! What’s your business?”
    Deacon glanced up to see a bare-chested old guy on the balcony of the house next door pointing a watering pot at him. “I’m looking for my cousin,” he called up. “Is this Olivia Harrington’s house?”
    The man called back over his shoulder. “Doris! Isn’t