closer, his own mind exploding with visions of her in flaming red satin, dark purple silk and then nothing at all. He barely covered a groan.
“Think about a silky smooth body shaper trimmed in soft lace, the same cream color as the dress. No ugly stitching and oxygen-stealing constriction. A strapless bra the perfect shape for your dress’s neckline, with smooth, shaped cups and peekaboo netting.”
A grimace twisted her lips.
“What was that?” he whispered, speaking very close to her right ear. Shivers raced across her skin.
“Nothing,” she said, but her voice choked on its way out.
“Ah, methinks the lady has a small problem with sensual...”
Her breath paused just as he did.
“...clothes.”
With a whoosh, she started to breathe again. Dangerous territory, his mind whispered. She wasn’t just resisting because of Vivian—she shied away because something was making her uneasy. Why was a woman whose home was filled with color and spice afraid of the same when she was in his presence?
“You know what?” he asked, backing away as a plan took shape in his brain.
He circled around to stand beside her. Though what came next would probably be the last thing on her agenda, he refused to ask. Only demand. He wanted to know why. “We’ll perform a little experiment.”
“Experiment?” Her high-pitched squeak sent a hot flush through him.
“Yep, time for a field trip.” He grabbed her hand, urging her to her feet when she would have resisted. “Let’s go.”
Oh, this situation had just escalated from bad idea to worse.
The elevator offered her no protection from his probing gaze. She shifted from foot to foot, as if she was a naughty schoolgirl on her way to the principal’s office.
He took advantage of their isolation to push her a little further. “Why are you so judgmental of the lingerie idea? Is it the notion of change or the lingerie itself?”
She kept her gaze resolutely fixed on the numbers marking their downward journey. “I’m simply worried about my job,” she said. “Vivian would not appreciate having Eternity Designs associated with...that...”
“Ah, so it’s the lingerie itself.”
“What?” she asked with a gasp, only to look at him and catch his satisfied grin. “I did not say that.”
The grin widened. “You didn’t have to.”
He didn’t speak again, but instead let the silence build until she rushed to fill it. “I think it’s just, you know.” Her hand gestured toward her body in an awkward jerk.
“I don’t know. What?” He drew the word out.
“It just seems dirty.”
“Seen a lot of it, have you?”
Ziara gave a simple shrug of her shoulders, but the red that rushed up her chest and into her cheeks told a whole different story. And had him licking his lips.
“Obviously not,” he said as the elevator doors slid open on the ground floor. “It’s time for your education.”
* * *
Ziara struggled not to choke on her hot embarrassment as she stood beside Sloan. Not even her Indian heritage could hide this blush.
Around my mom’s house, I saw it all the time. But she wasn’t about to detail her mother’s favorite business wear. That woman had never made a secret of what she did for a living—at home or away from it.
Ziara followed Sloan at a trot as he strode through the bustling indoor avenues that traversed the ground floor of their hotel. At first she suspected they were heading for the casino floor with its scantily clad waitresses or even another show. Instead, they silently traveled quite a distance to an indoor promenade fashioned as a replica of a high-end Parisian shopping district lined with quaint, expensive little shops.
Now they stood facing one and she was deathly afraid of what he would demand next.
A lingerie store.
If he expected her to tour a place like that with him at her side, the heat might rise to explosive temperatures. Tremors radiated from her thighs to her calves. It could have been the fast pace of the walk, but she suspected it was dread of what loomed on her horizon.
Sloan made no immediate demands. Instead, he planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest and studied the delicate ironwork framing the front windows. “What do you see, Ziara?”
The stuff of my nightmares. She settled for, “A store.”
The sound grumbling low in his throat could have been disapproval...or a threat. “Look closer. Describe it to me.”
Taking a deep breath, she brought her focus to the windows.
The wince was involuntary, a force of habit as she glimpsed the barely there bra-and-panty sets, the sheer teddies, the lace-only gowns. So she turned her attention to the framework—aged wrought iron in fancy curlicues decorating the windows as if they were paintings—
“Out loud,” Sloan said, breaking into her thoughts. His voice remained soft, but there was no mistaking the steel undertone. “Describe it to me, Ziara.”
Swallowing anger at his high-handedness, she said, “The windows remind me of pictures, feminine and delicate. The pink-and-brown decor is also feminine, like candy and chocolate, but classy, like a sophisticated chocolatier.”
“Very good. Go on.”
She let her eyes slip to the lingerie, then quickly pulled back. “I don’t know. It’s underwear.” Or outerwear, depending on the woman.
Silence engulfed them in the midst of the eddying crowd. As the seconds ticked by, Ziara’s internal tension wound tighter and tighter. Whatever this test was, she was obviously failing.
“Ziara, I want you to go inside.”
Yikes.
“Go inside and see for yourself. And I mean really look. Lingerie does not have to be slutty.”
She scoffed. “Tell that to—” Her teeth clamped shut.
“To who?” he asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard above the noise from the crowds.
The shake of her head was sharp, a reflection of the anger building inside of her. She had no idea where it came from or why it filled her so quickly. But it had to stop. She had to stop. The cracks would get too wide and then she’d never be able to repair them.
“I can’t do this, Sloan.” Turning on her heel, she was stopped by two strong hands with the softest of holds on her upper arms.
“Wait, Ziara,” he said, his voice once more soft, speaking into
