LITMIR.BIZ

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gratitude, understand?”

      Knowing she’d overstepped Vivian’s invisible limit, Ziara conceded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

      “You’ve worked very hard to get where you are, Ziara. That’s why I chose you to succeed Abigail as my executive assistant when she retires later this year.”

      At the praise, a glow bloomed beneath her fear. She’d yearned to be recognized for her accomplishments for as long as she could remember. First at school, then at community college, from her first job till now. Though she hadn’t found validation at home, her move to Atlanta had been the start of a whole new life.

      “I’m confident that you’ll do what’s best for Eternity Designs.” Vivian stood, her posture and classically tailored business suit a picture of authority. Ziara moved quickly to join her.

      “This position, though difficult, will also be excellent training for you, and I don’t have to worry about the Creighton good looks turning your head like some of the less dedicated girls around here. Do I?”

      Ziara realized the question was rhetorical, so she simply shook her head, keeping her growing doubts to herself. Oh, she had no intention of falling into bed with a man like Sloan Creighton. On the other hand, how did she keep his charm and obvious business smarts from influencing her away from what Vivian wanted?

      Vivian moved on, unaware of Ziara’s fears. “By the time we come out of this, Eternity Designs will be set for the future. I’ll be in charge, and you’ll have that job as my E.A.”

      Ziara shifted in her heels. “But what if he succeeds? How can you risk him gaining a majority’s ownership if you don’t trust him?”

      Vivian turned away, her face hidden as she crossed to the window. “Don’t worry,” she said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger again. “I’ll take care of that.”

      Knowing she’d been dismissed, Ziara retreated to the safety of the outer office, where Abigail waited with a kind smile and some lists.

      “Thank you, Abigail.”

      “No problem, sweetie. Just let me know if you have any questions.”

      How about, Will I make it through this without losing my freakin’ mind? Or, Is everyone going to hate me before this show is over? But she said nothing, conscious for once of exactly how alone she was.

      Walking through the doorway, she found Sloan leaning against her desk. Her stomach dropped to her toes and a flush suffused her cheeks. The guilt was probably glaring out from her downcast gaze and shifting feet.

      Where was this guilt coming from? A shot of surprise jolted through her at the answer. The guilt didn’t stem from tattling like a four-year-old. That was the best thing for Eternity Designs...for now. She simply didn’t want to face him knowing she’d tried to get out of working with him. Her feet stuttered to stillness and she swallowed, praying her voice would work at this point. “May I help you with something, Mr. Creighton?”

      Those bright blue eyes, so full of life earlier today, were now cold enough to freeze the devil himself in his tracks. His mouth crooked up on one side, his boyish good looks now brittle around the edges. Oh yeah, he knew what she was up to, and there was no defense against that knowledge.

      “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

      For some unknown reason, she couldn’t brush this moment aside with professionalism or tactful confusion. “I don’t know, either. You told me you understood my duties here.”

      “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

      Me, either.

      Ziara struggled to return to that place where she was strictly a secretary performing an assigned task, but she couldn’t. Some kind of barrier had been breached with his touch earlier today, and she was very afraid there was no going back from it.

      She had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t let her go back even if she tried. His next words confirmed her suspicions. “Too bad I can’t give you what you really deserve.”

      “And what would that be?” she asked, though the naughty mischief melting the iceberg should have warned her she’d moved into dangerous territory.

      “A spanking.”

Four

      The next few days went by relatively smoothly as Ziara discovered the ins and outs of working for Sloan Creighton.

      He liked his coffee black with just a touch of sugar for sweetness, but he only drank it in the morning. After eleven, he switched to Mountain Dew. He came into the office around nine-thirty every morning, smelling of citrus and a spicy undertone after his daily game of racquetball. He paced while he dictated letters, his long legs performing for her benefit alone. While dreaming up new show ideas, he liked to lean back in his chair with his Gucci-clad feet propped on the edge of the desk.

      She often caught a glimpse of him standing at those floor-to-ceiling windows watching people walk by five stories below, deep enough in thought that she’d close the door behind her with extra force to remind him of her presence.

      She was getting to know him way too well.

      This new knowledge was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the suspicion that he was cataloging some things about her, as well. Those damn eyes! Not to mention the occasional spicy remark, like that spanking comment, that she pretended to ignore no matter how outrageous he got. The last thing he needed was encouragement.

      Today shattered the routine when Sloan hit the outer door like a bull. She hadn’t seen that controlled anger since his first day, that contained heat he’d wielded against Vivian like a fine-tuned weapon.

      “I’ve got a lot of calls to make, Ziara. Don’t bother me.”

      “Yes, Mr. Creighton,” she said reverting to formality in her confusion. She watched those long strides carry him into his office, the door slamming behind him. Definitely a good day to keep her head down and work on clearing the clutter from her desk.

      A few hours of muffled yelling and banging later, she decided now was probably a good time to escape. She made her way through the corridors to the design floor. Anthony met her a few feet in with a quick and quiet hug. He knew exactly why she was here. Leading her across the room, he showed her the new shipment of sample materials scattered across a large table.

      “Robert is very upset with me,” he said. “He thinks I’m a sellout.”

      Ziara glanced over his shoulder at the normally boisterous man now sitting quietly at a drafting table. “Why would he think that?” she asked, keeping her voice low to match Anthony’s.

      He gestured toward the materials. “Because I ordered these.”

      Ziara took in the mixtures of cream, pinks, barely there blues and an almost yellow color on a display table that was normally white, white and white. “Hmm. I can see where that would be a problem.”

      “I’ve tried to move Robert in new directions for years now, especially as grumblings surfaced from the buyers. But he just won’t listen.”

      “I don’t think Mr. Creighton will give him that option.”

      “Well, maybe he will succeed where I have failed.” With a sad smile, he wandered back across the room, leaving Ziara alone for what he knew was her favorite pastime.

      Picking up the nearby invoices, she started matching the materials on the table with the names and prices on the sheets of paper. She studied the fresh array of colors, the textures, drape and a myriad of other things.

      In an ideal world—where she would have had a supportive family, scholarships and no need to be her own sole support immediately after getting her GED—she would have been a supplier, searching out the finest materials, the best deals for the entire company in accessories, gemstones, beading,

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