His by Design. Dani Wade

crawl all over you like bees in honey. That won’t be an issue with Ziara. I’ve trained her well. She knows more about how we conduct business here than anyone except my own assistant. And her behavior is impeccable—unlike yours.”

      What was she—a slave girl at auction? Would the buyer prefer pretty and pliable or plain but talented? Though dependable was exactly the look she was going for, the thought still disconcerted her.

      “Well, Vivian, isn’t that thoughtful of you?” he said.

      Ziara glanced up to find Sloan’s gaze directed her way. His earlier anger had turned his bright blue eyes icily sharp, his body rigid, his jaw tight. But now he eased back in a chair, propping his elbows on the arms. His fingers absently stroked the upper ridge of his lip, drawing her attention to the sensuous curve of his mouth. His turbulent look suddenly softened like ice thawing beneath a heat lamp.

      Her emotions seesawed as his gaze traveled south, visually caressing the extra length of leg exposed by her hasty drop into her chair. She could almost feel his touch sliding along the edge of her skirt, tickling the sensitive skin on the backs of her legs.

      Bit by bit, Ziara used up her willpower forcing herself to sit impassively. The twitch of her thighs urged her to shift her feet, but she resisted. That would tell him just how much he affected her. Tightening her muscles, she tried to crack down on the spreading fire, to no avail. Ignoring physical desire had never been a problem before him.

      Her new boss.

      Her soothingly subtle gray business suit, so comfortable in the luxurious air-conditioning only moments ago, now felt heavy, itchy. Her nipples peaked against their confinement. She felt that he peered through her professional armor to the woman she kept hidden deep inside.

      How could a simple look make her so aware, too aware? As if she lacked something only he could provide.

      As casually as possible, she adjusted her position and her skirt, covering her legs down past her knees.

      Knowledge leaked into his eyes, as well as smug satisfaction. He did that on purpose. Feeling a need to defend herself, she met him with a flick of her lashes. Slowly she lifted her left brow.

      He grinned, not at all intimidated by her challenge. “Be in my office and ready to work first thing tomorrow morning.”

      She could handle his antagonistic, dismissive tone; she welcomed it to counteract her strange reaction to him. Unlike efficient orders and professional expectations, the sensations created with that hot, hard stare set her nerves on edge.

      But she could handle it. She’d pulled herself up from a sludge-pile existence and become a woman with goals and dreams and skills. She could control herself for the three months it would take to get Eternity Designs back in the spotlight and earn her stripes as an executive assistant. But how was she going to control him?

      * * *

      Ziara. Her classic beauty and calm demeanor distracted Sloan from Vivian’s condescension. Staring his new assistant down made him hotter than he’d been in a long time. Vivian’s insistence that Ziara wouldn’t follow the path of his previous assistants didn’t worry him. As annoying as it had been to replace three employees in less than two years because they insisted they were in love with him, he might have to pursue this woman. Her pretend lack of interest challenged him, but turning Ziara’s head could provide plenty of ammunition in his war with Vivian.

      How ironic that the very thing he’d avoided in his professional life—intimate involvement with an employee—could give him a leg up in this situation. It felt wrong even thinking that way, but winning her loyalty could give him the freedom to do whatever he wanted without Vivian’s interference. He needed every advantage to fight against Vivian. His stepmother was totally immune to his charm, which drew cheeky toddlers, blue-haired dames and women of every age in between. If Vivian had been a typical trophy wife, at least Sloan could have fallen back on his practiced grin and genuine appreciation of the female species, but, instead, dear old Dad had the foresight to marry a savvy woman. One steeped in Southern tradition and brimming with a Southern belle’s ingenuity to survive. Too bad her temperament had always favored Scarlett’s machinations as opposed to Melanie’s sweetness.

      She viewed his father’s memory and Eternity Designs as hers; Sloan was a threat to her reign as queen. His frustration had been building over this situation for years and he let it out for once.

      “We need to shake things up,” he said. “We can’t afford to lose our biggest account because we’re afraid to break out of the mold. Reliance on tradition is getting you nowhere. Eternity Designs needs a modern edge, a new designer, a revamped portfolio. Pronto.”

      That was exactly what Vivian didn’t want to hear. “Your father prided himself on the tradition inherent in this company and its designs,” she said, elegantly restrained anger sharpening her tone. “This discussion demonstrates exactly why he chose me to continue the legacy of Eternity Designs.”

      Not you.

      The wedding gown design firm had been in his family for three generations—if his current 40 percent share of it counted for anything. With Vivian, it didn’t. But the words of the accountant told him now was the time to insist on the control she’d denied him for so long.

      “The whole company will go under if something isn’t done immediately.”

      “Sixty percent ownership doesn’t mean you’re God,” he said, ignoring the burn of betrayal. “It’s a good thing dear ol’ Dad isn’t alive to see how you’ve run it into the ground.” Yep. Payback was a bitch.

      A quick glance revealed Ziara stiffening, in surprise or defense he wasn’t sure. If she knew what the posture did for her magnificent breasts, she’d hunch in on herself for eternity. He paced back and forth in front of Vivian’s desk, arousal and frustration fueling his restlessness. The business expert in him was tired of talking.

      The man in him begged for a totally different kind of action.

      Watching Ziara’s reactions to his and Vivian’s little fight fascinated him more than he would have thought. Her exotic, raven-haired beauty brought to mind sensual, spice-scented nights. What would she look like with that thick bun let loose around her shoulders? With that suit jacket loosened up a few buttons? Seducing her out of her loyalty to Vivian was going to be such guilty fun.

      He’d avoided getting involved with his employees like a contagious disease, to the point that he hadn’t even had an assistant for six months. But his desperation called for outrageous actions—like storming into Vivian’s office this morning. Finding out Ziara had given up company loyalty for carnal indulgence would probably mean a quick dismissal, but he couldn’t let that stop him. For Ziara this was a job; she’d find another one soon enough.

      For Sloan, Eternity Designs was a legacy.

      Vivian’s haughty belle persona reappeared. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, Sloan. Overconfidence leads to nasty downfalls. Those unconventional methods of yours won’t work in such a traditional company.”

      “Those unconventional methods are just what Eternity needs. Less tradition, not more.” He turned to Ziara. Might as well put her to the test first thing. “What do you think? Is Eternity’s current path leading to success?”

      “I...I...” Her almond-shaped eyes flicked back and forth between him and her mentor, panic darkening their chocolate color. After a moment she said, “Our designers do beautiful work, enough to build a loyal following. Families come here generation after generation to commission their dresses. Our motto, our focus has built a legacy. I have no proof otherwise.”

      Test number one: fail.

      Vivian echoed Ziara’s words. “Eternity Designs is truly where tradition and style forever align.”

      Quoting the company’s motto as a defense ramped up Sloan’s anger. He needed to save this business. His father had worked hard to build it. He’d loved it just as Sloan did. Despite their differences at the time of his death, the 40 percent he’d