golden flecks with a glimpse of a silky gold camisole. A little better, though seeing her abundant hair pinned to the nape of her neck just made his hands itch to let it all loose.
He shifted in his seat. “I’ve got a full agenda today. Where do we stand so far?”
Ziara’s efficiency impressed him. Not only had she started contacting people and places yesterday, she’d made a detailed list of the facts so he could compare easily and make decisions.
Old business out of the way, he straightened his shoulders, preparing to face the hardest part of the day. “Let’s take a trip down to the design floor and see what’s what with the Old Brigade.”
The Old Brigade was the employees’ term for the two main designers who headed and vetted all the dress designs for the company. Though by no means original, they’d each been with the company for over fifteen years.
Ziara hesitated, frozen for a moment like a deer caught in headlights at dusk; then she gathered her tablet and smoothed down her skirt.
He let her maintain her silence as they crossed into the hall, but he couldn’t afford for her to hold back. Everything might as well be out in the open.
He stopped in the middle of the deserted hallway. “Look, Ziara,” he said, turning to face her. “One of the reasons you’re here is to help me with intercompany relations, schedules, procedures, et cetera. Right?”
“Yes, Mr. Creighton.”
The prim purse of her full mouth had his brows rising, a grin tugging at his lips. “Didn’t we decide on Sloan? After all, over the next three months, we’re going to be spending a helluva lot of time together.”
Her lips tightened a touch more before she conceded. “Yes, Sloan.”
Teasing her out of that “strictly business” attitude was way too much fun. “Now, I can’t do my job if you don’t do your job—”
A weighty protest formed in her eyes, though her face remained calm. This woman’s responses were seriously under wraps. He had to look very closely to catch the signals, but they told him some genuinely hot emotions hid beneath the surface. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been very helpful. But I need an honest rundown of what I’m facing on the design floor today.”
“I—I—”
“Honesty. Right now. Got it?”
“Why do you need my opinion? You said you’d been here often as a child.”
“And as a child I noticed the person most important to me—my father, and the place I spent the most time—his office. The rest? Not so much. I haven’t set foot on the design floor since I was ten.”
Her gaze zeroed in on his face for a moment, then she spoke. “Anthony and Robert are very talented designers.”
Keeping his irritation from showing proved a little easier beneath her disapproving glare.
“The trouble will come from Robert—he’s ruled the design floor through talent and overpowering personality for years. Anthony’s a sweetheart, but don’t take his lack of attitude for subservience. He’s soaking it all in, processing it in his own time and making his own decisions.”
He grinned. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
The low growl from her throat surprised him, sending a shock of sensation right where he didn’t need it. Keep it light. Best to just move on. “Let’s go.” But he was getting a really good idea how to provoke her into an honest response.
Just irritate her beyond measure.
The elevator took them down to the third floor and they stepped out onto the observation deck. The design department occupied most of the second floor, but the large exhibition space below could be viewed and accessed from the open walkway they now occupied.
As he and Ziara made their way down the spiral staircase, Ziara’s heels clicking on the metal steps, the designers appeared to be gearing up for the day.
“Ziara,” Robert exclaimed as she descended the last two steps. “What brings you to our little kingdom?”
Anthony simply smiled and wrapped her in a half hug. Her smile was natural and easy, but she didn’t return the touch. Interesting.
“I wanted to introduce y’all to Mrs. Creighton’s stepson, Sloan Creighton.”
The designers exchanged a look, but it didn’t display as much alarm as Sloan had anticipated. Nor resignation, either. His Spidey senses started to tingle.
“Yes, yes,” Robert said, leading the way by offering his hand. “I believe I remember James mentioning you to us, Dieu ait son âme.”
God rest his soul, indeed. Out of the corner of his eye, Sloan could see Ziara glance his way. Since it was obvious from their benign reception that neither designer had a clue what was coming down the pike, Sloan decided to play along.
“Vivian tells me you two are working on the fall line. I’d love to see the best of Eternity’s upcoming designs,” he said, ignoring Ziara’s sudden stare.
The men were only too happy to show off. Too bad they didn’t realize they were arming him to take them both down. They exchanged excited glances, then walked toward the display boards in unison.
Sloan stepped closer to Ziara as they followed. “Just relax and follow my lead,” he murmured from the corner of his mouth.
After listening to Robert expound on the sketches for over half an hour, Sloan was definitely unimpressed. Just as he imagined their buyer had been.
When Robert finally wound down, Sloan’s voice filled the stillness. “Did you listen to anything that buyer said?”
The men stiffened, but there wasn’t anything they could say in their own defense.
Sloan pushed forward. “She said the designs were stale. She said the dresses were old-fashioned. Not classic. Not retro. Those are buzz words. Compliments. Stale is not.” He gestured toward the stack of drawings. “Nothing has changed here. Nothing. I can find this same thing in any bridal magazine—from ten years ago.”
“How would you know what the buyer said?” Anthony asked, his voice sounding weak after the booming quality of Robert’s.
“And who do you think you are, to come in here and criticize our work?” Robert added.
“I am now the creative director of Eternity Designs’s fall line. From here on out, all decisions from this department must be approved solely by me.”
The silence was so absolute it rang loud in his ears. Robert’s face gradually turned a shade of purple and Anthony’s eyes flicked back and forth between the other people in the room as if he expected someone to tell him what was really going on here.
Finally Robert spoke, his voice coming from deep in his barreled chest. “Ziara, if this is a joke, it isn’t funny.”
“He isn’t kidding, Robert,” she said in her most soothing voice.
“Look,”
