Olivia Harrington has dedicated her life to the company's success. Just because Deacon is sexy as hell doesn't mean he'll make a better CEO. With alimitless supply of push-up bras and garter belts, Olivia turns her considerable feminine charms on Deacon to discover what makes him tick . . . and reveals instead the billion reasons why she wants him to stay.
“So tell me, Ms. Harrington,” he said with a slight tipping of his lips. “What else do you want besides a trip to Paris?”
It was a good question. At one time, she could’ve easily answered it: Her father’s return. Michael’s love. French Kiss’s success. But now, her mind seemed empty of want . . . save for one thing.
Unable to help herself, she leaned across and kissed him. His lips were as hot as the rest of him, and she moistened them with her tongue before hungrily taking advantage of their softness. He went to release the clasp on his seatbelt so he could no doubt take control of the situation, but Olivia pulled back and shook her head.
He sent her a quizzical look, but allowed her to take his hand from the clasp and rest it on the arm of the seat. After unbuckling her belt, she did the same with his other hand, curling his fingers around the soft leather of the arm.
The flight attendant appeared, carrying a bottle of champagne. “Would you like me to serve lunch now, Mr. Beaumont, or wait until later?”
“Later would be better,” Olivia said with a smile. “Mr. Beaumont and I have some business to discuss.”
“Of course.” The attendant placed the bottle of champagne in the holder on the mini bar. “Just buzz if you need me.” She pulled the pocket door closed behind her.
Olivia turned to find Deacon watching her. “Please don’t tell me we’re going to spend the entire trip talking about business,” he said.
“What else would we do?” Slipping off her high heels, she got out of her seat and knelt in front of him. “Now the key to any good business meeting is knowing when to take charge and when to keep your mouth shut.” She smiled at him as she spread his legs and moved between them. “This time I’m in charge, Mr. Beaumont. Got it?”