Sloan, his hand rested on the doorknob, but he made no move to leave. She could actually feel him looking at her, and her insides shivered. Part of her cowered in humiliation; the other part flared back to life with arousal.
For long moments Sloan didn’t move, keeping them locked in a silent battle. The tension ate away at her composure.
“I just have one question,” he finally said, his voice strained and husky. “Why?”
She spit out the words she’d rehearsed during the long, dragging hours of the night. “You’re my boss. It just isn’t right.”
She must have managed the right level of conviction, because he opened the door and led the way outside. Watching him stride away struck her as bittersweet.
The flight home, long and silent, was punctuated by agonizingly polite phrases like “Excuse me” and “Would you like a drink?” Her body pulled in on itself, making her wish she could shrink into oblivion. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Soon, though.
Unfortunately, Ziara was left with lots of time to think over what had occurred between them, as if she hadn’t replayed it a hundred times in the dark of night. His kiss had been seductive in more than the obvious sense. It had made her blossom with beauty, power and wantonness. Therein lay the rub. She wanted to revel in the passion Sloan evoked, whether they were sparring or kissing. But she couldn’t because it might lead to becoming the one thing she’d promised herself she never would.
As for work, she couldn’t fathom how she’d ever behave normally again. Why did it have to be this particular man who affected her like this? The one man who could tear down the respectable career she’d worked so long and hard for with just a few words.
Deciding to bite the bullet as they stood at the luggage carousel, she turned and said, “Would you like me to pick up some lunch on my way to work?”
“Go home,” he said.
Ziara’s body froze with her emotions. She couldn’t see for a moment. Everything went blurry. When her vision cleared, Sloan was propping her suitcase in front of her. Was he so fed up, so desperate to be rid of her, he would fire her despite Vivian’s insistence that they work together? Not that Vivian would oppose him once she found out what Ziara had done.
“Rest today,” he said, his voice a little softer this time. His gaze inventoried her face, probably noting the swelling under her eyes and the red rims she’d been unable to cover this morning. “The real work starts tomorrow.”
He turned and walked away without looking back, leaving confusion and an achy longing behind.
* * *
Desperately needing something to distract herself, Ziara tried to catch up on things she probably wouldn’t have a chance to do in the weeks to come unless Sloan changed his mind about firing her before tomorrow. Deep cleaning the house and weeding the flower beds were always good for keeping her hands busy. Too bad her mind didn’t want to cooperate.
But even if he didn’t fire her, she knew in her heart she’d have to move on as soon as the show was over. Even if Vivian graciously extended the offer to be her executive assistant to Ziara, just knowing Sloan was right around the corner and could appear at any minute would keep her on edge.
It looked like she’d end up losing, after all. Her heart tightened, grieving as much for the loss of her beloved position within this company as it did for the necessity of keeping Sloan at arm’s length. She hadn’t just worked for Eternity Designs, she’d believed in its values, its purpose, and had hoped security could be found within its ranks.
As she went inside to clean up, she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They mingled with the streaming water of the shower, invisible enough that she could dismiss her shame.
What was happening to her? All these emotions, so long buried deep inside, were erupting at every twist and turn. This was exactly why she didn’t want them—because she couldn’t control them. Or maybe she grieved because she did want them yet couldn’t express them.
Guess she could add confusion to the messy pile.
Tears spent, she dried off, shaking away the last vestiges of depression and guilt. She dressed casually in khaki capris and a fuchsia T-shirt, then brushed out her hair in front of the bathroom vanity. Everyone was allowed one colossal mistake in their lifetime, right? This was hers. At least her conscience was clear. Her mistake wouldn’t hurt anyone but herself.
Padding into the kitchen, she immersed herself in cooking dinner. Something as far from paella as she could get.
She threw together a quick southwestern chicken panini, which she coupled simply with apple and orange sections. Delicious as it was, she’d only managed to choke down half when the doorbell rang. Grateful for an excuse to give up on the pretense of eating, she straightened her T-shirt on the way to the door.
Shock sizzled through her when the door swung open to reveal Vivian. Without waiting for an invitation, her mentor glided inside. Ziara remained speechless for a moment. In the six years she’d been working for Eternity Designs, she’d never seen the Creightons outside the office. Now in the space of a week, both of them had shown up unannounced at her house.
After a thorough glance around the room, Vivian turned to face Ziara. “Is he here?”
Though Ziara understood, she still asked, “Who?”
“Sloan, of course.”
Ziara easily pulled her facade into place, almost amazed at how well she could handle the accusation. But then again, she didn’t have anything left to lose. “Sloan is not here, Vivian, and I resent the implication that he would be.”
Vivian studied her for a moment, brows raised as if surprised Ziara would stand up for herself. Then her chin dipped in a slow nod of acknowledgment. Luckily Ziara found she could meet Vivian’s eyes without a problem. A glimmer of compassion streaked through her as she noted Vivian’s disarray, in contrast to her usually immaculate appearance.
“Perhaps we could sit and talk,” Ziara said. She gestured Vivian into the sitting area facing the fireplace. The overstuffed chair and chaise weren’t necessarily elegant, but they were comfortable and their deep burgundy hue complemented the fire-glazed tiles covering the hearth. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Sweet tea?”
Vivian shook her head, a trembling sigh escaping her coppery brown lips. “That’s what I so like about you, Ziara,” she said. “Always cool under pressure, knowing just the right thing to say.”
Ziara perched on the edge of the chaise opposite Vivian, wishing the same were true in her relationship with Sloan. Business. Business relationship with Sloan. They didn’t have anything outside of that...anymore.
“I know my accusation was rude. But considering Sloan’s history with assistants and this trip to Vegas...” She made a vague gesture with her hand, her diamond rings glittering in the soft evening light. “I assumed something I shouldn’t have, knowing you. You are far too smart a girl to get mixed up with a smooth talker like my stepson.”
Ziara prudently kept her mouth shut and her face impassive.
“Did Sloan procure a designer?”
Ziara now wished they’d go back to the sex issue. There were a lot less mines in that field.
