near him—if Vivian went ballistic. “You would have complete control over that line. I want to open with both in two months.”
Patrick stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes—I’ll do it. You are going to make it worth my while?”
“Always,” Sloan agreed.
“Then I’ll see you on Wednesday.” Still muttering to himself, he left them to attend to his other guests.
* * *
Mission accomplished, Sloan’s instincts set their sights on another prey, another conquest. As he and Ziara settled into the limo, his senses were attuned solely to her, the soft whisper of her breath, the smooth swish of her skirts as she crossed her legs, the spicy scent of her skin mixed with some illusive floral perfume.
His mind drifted back to this morning, watching her through the windows of the lingerie store. When she’d first entered, she stood almost paralyzed, looking so lost and unsure. So unlike herself. He’d almost dragged her back out rather than strip her of her usual strength.
But the point had been more important than protecting her. And now, he had the image of her explorations burned into his brain.
He was downright hooked.
Shame filled him as he remembered his casual thoughts about getting close to her in order to gain her loyalty. All it had taken was a true glimpse of her response and this game had become strictly personal.
Sloan slumped back in the seat, staring out the window of their limo. Getting Eternity Designs back on track was kicking his ass.
Ziara spoke into the darkness. “Well, you did it.”
He couldn’t tell from her tone whether she approved or not. Probably not. He wasn’t worried. She was a walking example of what Patrick was capable of—the proof was in his design.
But Sloan didn’t want to think about work. He’d rather have her in front of him so he could touch her, stroke her breasts until her nipples peaked—
“Yep,” he finally got around to replying, his tone ironic but showing his fatigue.
“I hope Patrick knows what he’s getting into. This time frame will mean a lot of late nights.”
“He won’t mind me working him like a dog,” Sloan joked, chuckling when she looked askance at him. “Patrick may come from money, but he worked hard in school and at his job. He’ll come through for us.”
She nodded, but he still sensed her hesitation. There wasn’t anything he could do about that. She’d see in time.
Her silhouette, profiled against the night, accelerated the beating of his heart. Sloan breathed deep, forcing calm to cover his growing need. He noted the slope and angles of Ziara’s cheekbones. A model’s face. Why did she work so hard to hide her beauty? He was more determined than ever to find out.
The conviction that she would be his surged deep in his soul. He wanted to unravel the mystery, find what she hid beneath the surface so well. Why she hid at all.
“This is an interesting place,” she said, her eyes focused on the approaching city lights.
He studied the thick dark lashes concealing her thoughts from him. “I’m glad you like it. Patrick takes a lot of pride in his work and play.”
“It shows. But I didn’t mean just tonight. More like Las Vegas in general.” She absently rubbed the material of her dress between two fingers. “A combination of decadence, debauchery and the everyday. Kind of like life.”
He scooted closer, gaining ground until he could touch her hair with the hand resting across the back of the seat. “How so?”
She dropped her head back so that it landed in his palm, but she didn’t seem to notice. The silky weight of her hair made him want to run his hands through it, massage her scalp until she moaned, use handfuls of it to guide her mouth to all the places where he wanted to feel that wet warmth.
“Well,” she went on, “maybe not everyone’s life, but at least mine. My old life.”
The opportunity opened before him like a lit doorway. Adrenaline aftershock, sleepiness and the shakedown of her natural barriers were lowering her inhibitions. The facade was melting away.
He told himself he should hold back, but they’d shot way past a professional relationship at this point. As he caressed her scalp, he knew deep down he would get to the bottom of the contradictions in her personality that had him tied in knots. For all the wrong reasons.
The intimacy of the limo, shrouded in gray shadows, invited him to explore the secret places, the dark desires beneath her surface. It would surely be the experience of his life.
“Rough childhood?” he asked.
Her eyes closed a moment as she shuddered. “You have no idea.”
She turned toward him, those dark eyes sucking him away from the voice of reason. “My mother...” She paused, biting her lip as if afraid to say more. “My mother was so wrapped up in her own needs, her little games, that she didn’t care about what happened to me. She abandoned me.”
Though he’d heard quite a few tales of childhood woe in his time, the desolation darkening Ziara’s face ignited a protective streak in the pit of his stomach. “How old were you?”
Her fingers worried the fabric now. “Officially? Seventeen. Unofficially? So long before that I can’t remember when.”
Thoughts tumbled through his mind about what could happen to a seventeen-year-old girl who looked like Ziara without anyone to protect her.
“What about your dad?” he asked.
Her fingers jerked then went still. “I wouldn’t know. I never met him.” A few minutes passed before she said, “I think I could use a drink now.”
Reaching out, he trailed his fingers down the back of her tense hand. “I don’t think you need alcohol.”
“Yes. I do.”
“Why?” Sloan asked, taking the risk of looking straight into those tempting eyes. Half-mast lids were sleepy, sultry. Sexy. Man, if she decided to drink, who knew where they’d end up?
Her desire to let go had him shaking. It must be worse than he thought for her to resort to booze. “Why?” he repeated, hoping conversation would distract him from his thoughts and rapidly escalating erection.
“Because without it I’ll never do this.” She twisted, her lips brushing his, though she stopped short of a firm kiss.
The fire that burst through him burned away his inhibitions with one clean flare. “Ziara,” he said, pulling her gaze to his. “You don’t need liquid courage to do that.”
Something perverse inside of him exulted in her making the first move, so he remained still. A quick lick of her lips sent a shiver of anticipation through him. Her lashes lowered as she pressed closer. Her lips barely met his before he took the reins back.
Burying both his hands in the soft fall of her hair, he stormed her mouth, sliding his tongue inside. Without further invitation, he explored the moist heat within before returning to caress her lips with his own. So soft, yet meeting him halfway, she beckoned and commanded his response without a word.
A flash of lights outside the windows eased Sloan from the cocoon of intimacy they shared. Though they were behind tinted windows and privacy glass, they were still in a public place.
And he wanted to do something they could be arrested for in public. Even in Las Vegas.
Resigning himself to a snail’s pace, Sloan resumed his exploration of Ziara’s mouth. He resisted the urgency surging under his skin. Their first time together shouldn’t be in the back of a limo with a driver on the other side of the glass.
But he couldn’t stop