She tilted her head toward him, the sun through the window highlighting the curve of her jaw and the smooth caramel skin of her neck. He bet she’d taste just as sweet.
“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. “I’ll bite. Who is it?”
Sloan accepted a drink from the flight attendant. Passing Ziara one of the small glasses, he deliberately brushed his fingers along hers. Her quick retreat confirmed his suspicions. She wasn’t as immune to him as she’d like. If he played his cards right on this trip, Ziara’s loyalties to him would far outweigh any hold Vivian had on her.
“Patrick was my college roommate. He was a fashion design major while I stuck it out on the business track.” He paused a moment at her considering look. “I immediately thought of him when I decided to do this project, but he turned me down.”
“Then why are we on a plane to Las Vegas?”
“I’m going to change his mind.”
* * *
Great. She wasn’t on a flight to Las Vegas to meet their new designer but to court one. A reluctant one.
She shouldn’t be surprised that Sloan wouldn’t take no for an answer. Keeping that in mind in her own dealings with him would be smart. After all, hadn’t he just shown her in graphic detail how opposed he was to a little phone call? If he thought she was going to go diving into his pants for her phone—or tell Vivian exactly where said phone had been—he was gravely mistaken.
Maybe she could dig into his plans before he realized what she was doing and shut her out completely.
“I don’t know of any big wedding dress designers based in Vegas. Who does he work for?”
Sloan’s smirk didn’t answer any questions; it only created more. “You won’t believe it until you see it.”
She sighed in frustration. “What does that mean?”
He leaned toward her, his eyes meeting hers head-on. Her stomach jumped, but she told herself it was from turbulence.
“Ziara, we’re on our way to Las Vegas. Relax and enjoy a little pleasure with your business.”
Alarm skittered through Ziara when her mental walls didn’t go up immediately. She actually wanted to give in to the attraction tempting her, but knew doing so would cost her all she’d worked so hard for, so she pulled back.
“I’m just here to work,” she said, hoping she sounded like an old, repressive aunt. “What do you think it will take to convince this friend of yours to change his mind?”
He frowned, collapsing back in his seat. She couldn’t help but admire the ease he seemed to feel in his body. “Probably something I’m not going to want to give.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows me too well.”
She angled toward him in her small seat. “So you must have been really close and stayed in touch all this time.”
He shrugged. “We have similar interests.”
What did that mean? Ziara wanted to pull her hair in frustration. Or better yet, shake Sloan until all the answers she wanted just tumbled out. His secretive, I don’t trust you attitude was getting really old, really quick. If he couldn’t trust her, that was his problem. Though she should probably be happy she wasn’t dealing with a flirty, sexy boss, instead.
“Is there anything you’d like to do in Vegas?” Sloan asked out of the blue. “A show? Shopping?” His gaze slid over her, heating her flesh even through her sensible pantsuit. “Dance with a sexy stranger?”
From anyone else, the question would have seemed presumptuous and sleazy, but from Sloan it was, well, presumptuous and tempting. What would it be like to dance secure in his arms, to give herself up to his lead without having to worry where he’d take her? Without having to worry how he’d feel about her in the morning?
She’d never chance it. This time she leaned forward, meeting him head-on so there would be no mistakes. This tactic had worked time and again in the past. Attitude was everything, though the lock on her bedroom door had come in handy too.
She might be physically tempted like never before, but it wouldn’t show. She wouldn’t allow it.
“Let’s get this straight,” she said in a calm, nonthreatening sort of way. “I have no interest outside of helping you find your designer and launch the fall line. I’m here to do my job. Period.”
Instead of backtracking or scrambling for excuses like all the men before him under her no-nonsense glare, Sloan simply watched her lips as she formed the words, his gaze tracing every curve. The urge to moisten them with a slip of her tongue grew strong.
A satisfied expression crossed his face, as if he’d stumbled upon a secret she hid deep inside. “We’ll see,” he said simply, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, leaving her to stew in her amazement at his audacity.