Yvonne Lindsay - Scandal In The Boardroom

He loomed closer, his broad shoulders inducing a feeling of claustrophobia in the dusty space, leaving her vulnerable to his size. “Since it isn’t Vivian’s reputation on the line, I don’t give a damn what she thinks.”

“I understand your urgency, just not your secrecy. This wild idea is exactly why you need someone to provide balance,” Ziara said.

“For the record, I’m keeping it quiet because I don’t want her shooting down a plan that has nothing to do with her. Understand?”

Ziara drew in a deep breath, choking a little on the dry, dusty air. She knew exactly what Sloan meant. Vivian would do everything in her power to stop this, even if it lost them the Bridal Boutique account. Reputation was everything to her, as Ziara well knew.

“I don’t agree with this choice.” Ziara waved a hand in Patrick’s general direction. “I understand why you are trying so hard to fix this problem. But why him?”

“Because he knows what he’s doing,” Sloan said.

“That’s right,” Patrick said from over Sloan’s right shoulder, making Ziara jump. “I do know what I’m doing. Besides a degree in fashion design, I know my way around a booty, as you can see.” He quirked a grin. “That should come in handy designing lingerie.”

Ziara’s chest tightened, cutting off her breath for a moment. Sloan’s body remained close enough that she could feel the half laugh, half groan he choked back, but when she looked up, his face was still.

Her heart knew this wasn’t a joke. Vivian had sensed all along that Sloan was holding something back, that he might try something crazy. She’d had good reason to be concerned, because this was big. A lingerie line, no matter how tastefully done, would shatter Eternity’s conservative reputation forever.

“You’re adding a lingerie line,” she said with a soft undertone of conviction. “No wonder you’ve been... You certainly did have something to hide.”

Sloan’s chin jutted forward, his aggressive stance for once matching his personality. “Are you going to run to Vivian and tattle like a good little girl?”

“Vivian. Good God!” Patrick said with an exaggerated shiver. “If she’s involved, that’s just one more reason to turn you down. That woman could intimidate the Pope.”

Sloan ignored him, his gaze locked with Ziara’s. He reached out to once more trace her jawline, his fingers gently abrasive against her sensitive skin.

“Which will it be, Ziara? Friend or foe?”

Eight

Sloan watched as Ziara struggled not to fidget during brunch the next morning. He knew exactly what the problem was, but putting her out of her misery by laying out a plan for the day wouldn’t be nearly as fun as his current torture tactics.

She bided her time through coffee, waffles, eggs, mimosas and filet mignon, until she looked like the words would burst through her locked lips at the slightest provocation. He waited just a minute more, but she beat him to it.

“Are we seeing Patrick today?”

“I’m not entirely sure of his plans. We’ll have to play it by ear.” He could see uncertainty roll over her like a bumpy log. Any minute now steam would come billowing out of her ears. How could it be more fun to torture this woman than it was to sleep with other women? How had he even reached the point where he would ask himself that question?

“So are you excited about the lingerie line?” Sloan asked, a grin finally breaking free.

“Look,” she said, that disapproving librarian look making a reappearance. “This is not some kind of game like you seem to think it is. Start talking, or I’ll be on the phone to Vivian in two minutes.”

He felt his mouth drop open, unable to believe she would adopt his own overbearing approach. Yet aroused by it, just the same.

“I want to understand, Sloan. I really do. But lingerie? Please explain this to me.”

He drew in a deep breath before starting. “It’s all about marketability—” His hand shot up to stop her from interrupting. “Let me explain.” He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, then tossed it onto his plate.

“Vivian is focused on making the least amount of change that she can to get by.” Standing, he worked off his restless energy by pacing to the glass balcony doors. “Hell if I know why. But that’s not how to run a profitable business that will remain stable for the foreseeable future.”

He saw logical understanding in her eyes but not the spark of passion he hoped for. He found himself wanting her to understand, needing her to understand. “Modern designs are great. Any willing designer can make those changes.” His pacing picked up speed. “But I want a whole new approach—something different, a big splash to make us stand out from the crowd.”

Halting, he found himself across the room from her. She sat at the table, her hands folded loosely on the smooth black top. His mind filled with an image of her dressed in lace and pearls for her wedding day, the epitome of elegance.

He mused aloud. “Most women shopping for their weddings already associate Eternity Designs’s brand with their big day. Why not expand their thinking to their wedding night, too?”

She shifted. Fear battled with a growing interest in her eyes.

Suddenly he stepped forward, approaching her at a slow stalk. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. He circled around, pausing behind her. The sweet scent of vanilla swirled in the air. Her personal scent. His gaze branded her at the vulnerable base of her neck.

“Think about it, Ziara—” Just like he was. “There you are, preparing to put on the dress of your dreams. What do you wear underneath it?”

Leaning forward, he caged her in with an arm on each side. The glimpse of her face lured him to push her further. “Do you want to squeeze into a too-tight piece of Lycra? Itchy lace? Ugly beige?”

Her brows drew together over her now-closed eyes. Following his body’s instincts, he lowered his voice, hoping to evoke the images in her mind.

“Or would you rather stand before the mirror in something just as sexy and beautiful as your dress, confident that your husband-to-be will be just as happy when your dress comes off as when he sees you walking down that aisle?”

He shifted closer, his own mind exploding with visions of her in flaming red satin, dark purple silk and then nothing at all. He barely covered a groan.

“Think about a silky smooth body shaper trimmed in soft lace, the same cream color as the dress. No ugly stitching and oxygen-stealing constriction. A strapless bra the perfect shape for your dress’s neckline, with smooth, shaped cups and peekaboo netting.”

A grimace twisted her lips.

“What was that?” he whispered, speaking very close to her right ear. Shivers raced across her skin.

“Nothing,” she said, but her voice choked on its way out.

“Ah, methinks the lady has a small problem with sensual...”

Her breath paused just as he did.

“...clothes.”

With a whoosh, she started to breathe again. Dangerous territory, his mind whispered. She wasn’t just resisting because of Vivian—she shied away because something was making her uneasy. Why was a woman whose home was filled with color and spice afraid of the same when she was in his presence?

“You know what?” he asked, backing away as a plan took shape in his brain.

He circled around to stand beside her. Though what came next would probably be the last thing on her agenda, he refused to ask. Only demand. He wanted to know why. “We’ll perform a little experiment.”

“Experiment?” Her high-pitched squeak sent a hot flush through him.

“Yep, time for a field trip.” He grabbed her hand, urging her to her feet when she would have resisted. “Let’s go.”