style="font-size:15px;"> Under cover of night, she’d watched him walk around her bedroom, touching her things. The next day she’d made a trip to a local hardware store, where a nice old man had sold her everything she’d needed to install a dead bolt. Ziara relied on herself alone after that. Until the day of her seventeenth birthday, when she’d left home without a forwarding address.
Ziara looked up at Sloan. Those memories from long ago influenced her current decisions more than she’d like to admit. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“Just remember, not everyone thinks like Vivian does. Just look at Patrick. He’s always telling me how great you are.” He smiled, though his eyes didn’t warm in color, and carried her to bed. “It’s been a long week. Let’s get some rest.”
Gently, he stripped them both. Leaning over, he settled them against the pillows in a move that seemed natural to him. Ziara remained stiff for long moments before gradually relaxing into his hold. Never had she lain in another person’s embrace, not even the loving hold of a parent. Until Sloan. Here with him, like this, felt like home. Warm, secure, safe... The final bit of awkwardness melted away.
“Tell me something now,” she said, eager to shift the focus. “Tell me about your father.”
She’d never had one, couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have a man in the house. Her mother’s men had just been visitors who had brought nothing but indifference at best, anger and pain at worst.
Sloan’s hands rubbed up and down her arms, lulling her into a drowsy state. “My father was always laughing, always happy, until my mother died. They were very much in love through it all.” His hand started to squeeze, massaging up and around her shoulder. “I’ll never forget, one time when she was really bad off with the cancer, he took me with him on a business trip.”
“Where did you go?”
“I don’t even remember, but I know we went to some kind of trade show. I remember following him through walls of people, listening to his voice as he talked to other men, having him introduce me like I was one of the adults, soaking it all in as he explained stuff to me.”
His heartbeat thudded evenly under her cheek. “Did you learn a lot?”
“I was thirteen years old. I still remember every word.”
As she drifted to sleep, the happy wistfulness in his voice brought on dreams of a family she’d never had.
The fast-approaching deadline for the fall show escalated the rush to complete the two lines, so the days got busy and the nights even busier.
She ran messages back and forth between Sloan and the design team and mediated a few squabbles, though the three designers had formed an uneasy truce among them. Vivian lay low as the time for the fall show approached. Ziara occasionally wondered how she felt, but no longer had an in to inquire how Vivian was doing.
She and Sloan spent most nights together, always at her place, with Sloan never staying all night. She didn’t protest. What was the point of trying to force him into something he didn’t want?
Only one night did they deviate from the pattern.
Sloan and Patrick had been holed up in a conference until about forty minutes past normal shutdown time. Ziara knew she could leave, but her greedy feminine nature urged her to wait. She could ask Sloan if he wanted her to cook dinner. If he’d like to unwind with a drink, a hot shower, a... She groaned, allowing her head to fall forward into her hands. Shameless. She was utterly shameless.
“Night, sweet cheeks.”
She jerked upright, returning Patrick’s smile as he sauntered out the door. Blushing, she turned to find Sloan leaning against the doorframe connecting their offices.
“You look tired,” he said, his gaze scanning her face. “Am I driving you too hard?”
His sensual tone added deeper meaning to his words. She shook her head, her throat too tight to speak.
He reached for her arms, rubbing his hands along them in light, comforting strokes. “Why don’t you go ahead home?” He nodded toward his open office door. “I still have some work that needs to be finished tonight.”
She knew she should do exactly that. She should go home, rest and have a good night’s sleep. Nibbling on her lower lip, she realized she didn’t want to do what she should. That wasn’t how she wanted to spend her evening. Studying the fatigue darkening Sloan’s normally vibrant eyes, she realized she wanted to take care of him. Ease a little of the strain he was under. She chose not to wonder why but to just act.
“Why don’t I go get something for dinner and bring it back here?”
As surprise lightened his eyes, she spoke faster. “It would save you some time. You wouldn’t have to stop working as long and could get done sooner. I don’t mind—”
The rush of words ended when he placed his lips over hers. She leaned into the gentle kiss for a moment. He pulled back until their lips barely brushed against each other.
“That sounds great,” he breathed.
Her chest flooded with warmth as he pressed his mouth over hers once more, then returned to his office.
She tried not to be overly pleased as she raced home and changed into a gypsy skirt and tunic that she belted low on her hips. Though she never went out anywhere without her hair confined in some way, tonight she let it down and brushed it, the long strokes heightening her anticipation.
Sloan’s obsession with her hair only grew. He was constantly touching it, burying his hands in it, especially as he rode her to climax. She was anxious to see how he reacted to her wearing it down at the office, even if it was after hours.
She stopped by a replica fifties diner near the office and ordered the deluxe burger and fries Sloan indulged in every so often, with a chicken salad sandwich for herself, before rushing back. When she walked through the office door, his eyes scanned her slowly from the tips of her strappy heels to the crown of her jet-colored hair. His gaze narrowed as it returned to her face.
“Oh, you so don’t play fair,” he said.
Her laughter floated around them as they spread the food on the small table in Sloan’s sitting area. They ate in silence, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city lights. His eyes frequently rested on her hair. It felt so good to be free, to enjoy the moment.
“Why do you and Vivian fight so much?” Ziara asked, her earlier concern about the older woman still lingering in her mind. “It isn’t just the business, either. You two seem at odds about most everything.”
Sloan took his time chewing and swallowing. Ziara thought he wouldn’t answer, though his face remained relaxed and open.
“She married my father when I was a teenager. I’m sure that rough adjustment period set some bad patterns in how we relate to each other.”
He took another bite, chewing slowly, distracted by his thoughts. Her eyes strayed to the working muscles of his jaw and throat.
