to trust me.”
“You don’t know,” she whispered, not even sure he could hear her.
“Whatever it is, I want you to lock it away.”
She thought she had, but not well enough.
“Lock it away and go in with fresh eyes. Use those gorgeously sensitive fingers to explore, to discover. Trust me.”
If only I could... But she couldn’t say that out loud, so she simply nodded her head. His hands slid down her arms, then defected to her waist, leaving tingles of awareness in their wake. Then he turned her to once again face the storefront. “Go in.”
She was halfway to the door when the fear took hold of her. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes met his. Without a word, he urged her forward. Without a word, she followed his command.
The fabrics were beautiful, tempting her to touch, to stroke, to explore the texture and feel. But each time she reached out, she could sense Sloan tracking her progress from display to display. His gaze blanketed her in warmth, strength. She could almost feel him surrounding her, pushing her, enticing her.
A nightgown, pale gray and silky smooth, slid over her fingertips. She could imagine it against her skin, caressing her hips, the sensitive tips of her breasts. Sloan’s gaze had her wondering if he imagined her in the silvery fabric, too.
Somehow the nightie and a matching robe found their way into her hands. A spot of the same silvery gray color caught her eye from a nearby table. Panties had always been utilitarian for her. Waistband and shape were chosen for comfort.
But with the first stroke she imagined wearing them for Sloan’s hot gaze. She couldn’t begin to see herself in a thong, but the dramatic curve of the high-cut briefs would line the edges of her backside with sheer lace. The phantom feel of his fingers tracing the edges brought a shiver along her spine, daring her to look over her shoulder through the outer windows.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, but she scooped several colors into her hands and moved to the register before she could think any more about it. All the while, Sloan’s presence called to her from just outside the door. His tracking gaze should have induced embarrassment. Instead, every glimpse of him through those wide windows brought the warm reminder of comfort, encouragement and, yes, trust. Along with a desire to be a woman she was not.
Without him she’d have never even spared this store a glance.
Her rush out the door slowed as she noticed a corner set off from the rest of the store. A quick glance made her think, Wedding night, prompting her to pause, to wonder.
A younger woman held up a thigh-length confection of cream satin, lace and pearls. Her companion, who was old enough to be her mother and probably was, smiled, whispering something that encouraged a nod from the daughter. They walked toward the dressing rooms, leaving Ziara watching them with loneliness creeping into her heart.
And confusion.
At first she’d been convinced Sloan was out of his mind. But maybe, just maybe, he was on the right track.
Getting married was a precious vow. She knew that even though she’d never witnessed or wanted that happily ever after herself. What if Sloan could extend the traditions of Eternity Designs to the private celebrations of marriage and not just the public ones?
For an instant the desire to experience a love deep enough for that kind of commitment overwhelmed her, settling at the pit of her stomach in a tide of need. She’d been alone so long, depending only on herself, the only person she could trust. What would it be like to give in to those feelings of overwhelming attraction, to trust someone to understand your needs rather than judge you for them?
She shook her head. With unerring accuracy, she turned to the windows and met Sloan’s bright blue gaze once more. Deliberately lowering her lashes, she forced her thoughts to the lasting image of the mother’s smile. She would never experience the feminine bond of shopping for her wedding night. Even though her mother wasn’t dead, shopping for lingerie with a prostitute was a whole different experience from what she’d just witnessed. She knew. She’d lived it.
Following Sloan back into the cool air-conditioning of the hotel suite, Ziara noticed the sweat coating her neck and scalp as she took her purchases to her room. A pounding headache—whether from the building tension or lingering emotions—throbbed in her temples and down along her jaw. A few minutes alone, that’s all she needed. Time away from Sloan’s probing gaze and questioning looks.
He’d watched her closely as she returned to him on the promenade, his eyes flicking between her face and the bag in her hands. That’s when the arousal had hit her, this time piercing and sharp. Almost painful. It would be a long time before she forgot that particular sensation.
In the bathroom she pulled the pins from her hair, allowing the heavy weight to fall below her shoulders. She ran a quick brush through the mass. Sometimes just letting it down was enough to ease her tension headaches.
Walking into her bedroom, she moved to close her door so she could rest for a while, but the phone rang. Not hearing any sound in the suite outside, she crossed to the extension beside her bed, stretching her neck from side to side as she went. Taking a deep breath, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Ziara?” Vivian’s voice rang in her ear, stealing her breath for a moment. A wealth of suspicion and condemnation resided in that one word.
“Yes, Vivian?”
“Would you like to explain to me what you are doing in Sloan’s hotel room?”
For a moment, Ziara’s head swirled. Her own concerns mixed with remembered insults and insinuations from the past. She forced herself to breathe, remembering Vivian knew nothing about her past. And never would if she had anything to say about it.
“Actually,” Ziara said, grateful her voice came out calm and even, “I’m in my own room. Sloan booked us into a suite so we’d have a common area for working.”
Vivian didn’t answer immediately, as if pondering Ziara’s explanation. This time her voice was a little less tight. “Good. I’d hate to see your reputation compromised by Sloan’s charm.”
Words rushed to Ziara’s lips in her own defense, but she held them back. They would sound like token protests. Besides, hadn’t she been tempted? Like Eve by the snake.
“Thank you for your concern,” she murmured.
“Ziara, why didn’t you contact me about this trip? Why didn’t you keep me informed as I instructed?”
Because my phone was resting a little too close to your stepson’s privates for me to comfortably make a phone call.
She could have made the phone call after getting to the hotel, but by that time she’d convinced herself that Monday was soon enough to let Vivian know.
Oh, wouldn’t that go over well? She decided on a half-truth. “By the time I realized we were going, it was too late to call. I mistakenly thought I could inform you of everything when I returned.”
Maybe her growing attraction for Sloan
