that ran through his body was exciting but dangerous. He took the leap, anyway. “Why?”
Finally she stopped rearranging the material so she could glare at him. “Look. I came from a really small town, even more southern than Atlanta, with not enough money and very few options. I worked my way through secretarial school with two jobs, eating peanut butter from a spoon every night. Not everyone needs a high salary and trust fund to be successful.”
That should have stung—and it did, but not in the personal way he expected. He could see how hard she must have worked to attain her level of success at such a young age—which meant this wasn’t just a job to her.
She wasn’t just Vivian’s pet.
He couldn’t think about what that meant to his plans. So he let his mind conjure pictures of her caressing the fabric. Within seconds, he began to visualize designs: a sleek gown of pale pink satin, almost bright against her dark skin, drifting low over her naked back, accented with white diamonds and silver thread. The smoky chiffon shaped into three-dimensional flowers at the shoulders of a structured gray, almost silver, silk dress. The creamy yellow draped tight across her torso in tiny pleats that met at the curve of her hip, then released into a waterfall of softly lilting, creamy white feathers.
All of them made exclusively for the incredible body before him.
His horrible morning dissolved under the rush of creative energy.
“What are you thinking?” he heard her say, her voice echoing slightly as she pulled him from his own head, that place where he created all the things he needed, wanted, with the easy strokes of his mind.
It didn’t matter whether it was building plans, an office design, extensive renovations...or, apparently, wedding dresses. He had only to envision it and the lines appeared in the forefront of his mind. It was very helpful, incredibly productive and totally intoxicating.
Which was the only explanation he had for what he did next. Reaching around her to the desk, he snagged paper and a drawing pencil. The move brought him flush with her side, prompting a surge of heat wherever their bodies met, though he forced himself to move away quickly.
He could tell she felt it, too, by the widening of her eyes and the way she held her breath. He shoved the materials on the table aside and started to draw. Within minutes, he had a simple outline of the pink satin dress he’d imagined, though he kept the distinctive characteristics of the model vague.
“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
Her smile warmed him, intoxicating in its sincerity. He often had the feeling that she simply responded to him the way she should, the way an assistant was expected to respond to her boss. Not this time.
Fire lurked beneath the surface of this buttoned-down babe, and he desperately wanted to release it—even if he was her boss.
“I mean it,” he continued, anxious to avoid the temptation of his thoughts. “You’ve shown me exactly what I need.”
Before he could do something stupid like kiss those full red lips, he pivoted on his heel and walked away. Now that he had a direction, he knew just how to carry it out.
Eternity Designs would never be the same.
Sloan stalked down the hall toward the elevators, the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins. Pictures of Ziara racing through his mind.
“How’s your new assistant working out, Sloan?”
Damn it. He’d been so close to the open doorway!
He pivoted to find Vivian standing in the shadows. Had she been waiting for him to walk by? Had she watched as he and Ziara talked?
“Great choice, Vivian. She’ll serve me just fine, I think.”
Vivian studied him with the same barely tolerant expression she’d used after many of his teenage escapades. “What’s wrong?”
Ah, the pitfalls of working with someone who’d watched him grow up. He moved a few steps closer. Lowering his voice, he tightened his control over the high levels of excitement, frustration and arousal still surging through his veins.
“It won’t work, Vivian. Whatever reason you have for planting Ziara in my office—it won’t work. I’m still going to do what I think is best for Eternity.”
Patronizing was the only way to describe her smile. “I know exactly where Ziara’s loyalties lie. She’ll do the job I gave her.”
“I’m going ahead with my plans, regardless.” The feel of the sketch held securely in his grasp brought a surge of certainty. He was on the right path; now he needed the one person who would help him carry it out.
“So you’ve talked the Old Brigade into actually carrying out your crazy theme?” she asked, concern dampening her smug demeanor. Ah, she’d be so happy if he was stuck working with her two lackeys, wouldn’t she?
“Robert and Anthony will fall in line soon enough.” His chest tightened as all his earlier frustration rushed forward again.
She shook her head slowly. “Not according to Robert—I believe his exact words were ‘over my dead body.’”
Her smug expression shattered his control like nothing else could have. “I wouldn’t get too tickled if I were you.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m about to turn Eternity Designs upside down.”
The ding of the elevator signaled his escape. Sloan strode through the doors and turned back to see Vivian’s perplexed expression just as they closed.
Ziara dished up her quick version of paella into an oversize, bright green bowl, pausing a moment to inhale the spicy scent of peppers, andouille sausage and shrimp. Padding across to the table, she savored the coolness of the tiled kitchen floor on her bare feet.
After a long, deep drink of sweetened tea, she picked up her book in one hand and her fork in the other. Having survived her rough day at work, her mind craved the relaxing and safe surroundings of home. An early start to her weekend.
She’d worked so hard for her house and turned it into her very own sanctuary. Most important, it was as far from the environment she’d grown up in as possible.
Only here could she let down the defenses. She could safely indulge her passion for cooking, love of reading and flair for color.
She desperately needed that in the aftermath of her confusing response to her boss. Sloan was flirty, no doubt about it, but she’d always held herself to a higher standard. To think a few smiles, some genuine listening and one hot touch could turn her sensible head made her very angry—with herself.
The first bite of paella ignited a burn on her tongue that spread like flash fire up the walls of her mouth to the roof and inner edge of her lips. Yummy, but she suspected her turbulent thoughts had made her heavy-handed with the spices.
Ziara
