Free A Billionaire Between the Sheets by Katie Lane Page B

his eyes. Since his flight had left at the crack of dawn, it wasn’t surprising that he nodded off.
    He awoke to a door slamming. Sitting up, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and listened to the sound of high heels clicking up the flights of stairs.
    “You weren’t supposed to leave my mother’s house, Babette,” Olivia said. “That was part of the deal. Until I get control of the company, you were to stay out of sight.”
    “Creativity cannot be held prisoner,” a woman said in a thick French accent. “Especially with a tyrant who refused to meet my creative needs.”
    “She took the television remote away, Babette.” Olivia’s heels clicked to a stop just feet away from the balcony door. “And only when you refused to work on the new line. The new line that I’d planned to present to the board in just a few days.”
    “Zee new line is almost ready and exquisite. Now make me an omelet.”
    “I’m not making you an omelet,” Olivia said. “I’m going back to work so we have a company to sell your exquisite line.”
    A string of French followed. Having grown up with a French-speaking Cajun father, Deacon understood most of it. He got up and stepped through the balcony doorway. Olivia stood at the refrigerator. When she saw him, she dropped the carton of orange juice she’d been taking out of the refrigerator, and it splattered all over the floor.
    He shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s probably for the best. It was expired.” Then he turned to the petite, dark-haired woman and spoke to her in her native language.
    “I agree that, at times, Olivia can be a little bitchy,” he said. “But fat?”

C HAPTER SEVEN
    T he discovery that Deacon spoke French affected Babette much differently than it did Olivia. Babette released a sob and fell into Deacon’s arms as if he were there to save her from the barbarian Americans, while Olivia wanted to pick up the ten-pound glass vase her mother had given her and bludgeon him with it. Instead she stepped away from the vase and reached for the roll of paper towels.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked as she started cleaning up the spilled orange juice. “And how did you get in my house?”
    He patted Babette’s back and whispered a few French words that sounded soothing…and annoyingly sexy. Babette whimpered like a homeless puppy and cuddled closer as Deacon lifted his gaze to Olivia. “You left the garage door open. Something Hammond and Doris say you do a lot?”
    “Hammond and Doris?”
    “The naked couple next door.” He shook his head sadly. “What is it with you Californians? Don’t you know your neighbors’ names?”
    She started to jump into an argument, then reminded herself to stay focused on a much more important issue. “So did you sign it? Did you sign the contract?”
    “So this is your secret weapon that is going to save French Kiss?” As Babette continued to sob, he thumped her back a little harder. “What is she developing? A new Wonderbra that grows breasts? Panties that give you a J. Lo butt? A nightie that will give men orgasms just by looking at it?”
    Olivia’s eyes widened. “Who told you?” When he didn’t say anything, she answered the question herself. “Kelly.”
    “So what’s the secret weapon?”
    “That’s none of your business.”
    One of his eyebrows arched. “Considering the fact that I own the company, I think it is.” But instead of asking her again, he spoke to Babette in French. Between loud sniffs and dramatic hand gestures, she answered him. And there was little doubt that she’d spilled the beans when Deacon’s eyes widened and he spoke in English. “Men’s lingerie?” When Babette nodded triumphantly, he looked at Olivia. “That’s it? That’s your big secret weapon to save the company from bankruptcy?” He disengaged himself from Babette. “Lacy panties for men?”
    Olivia tipped up her chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we’re not going to use lace on men’s