The Complete Boardroom Collection. Yvonne Lindsay

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      Having stood silent long enough, Sloan said, “I knew you had talent, but this proves it. I’m tempted to up my offer.”

      Patrick frowned. “Sloan, no business. This is a party. Don’t you remember how to have fun?” He pulled Ziara gently into his own grasp. “Let’s mingle and meet about a hundred of my closest friends.”

      Ziara laughed, surprised the sound floated from her so freely. The loosening of her control was almost a physical sensation.

      Then she simply let herself follow Patrick’s lead. He took them from group to group, making introductions. He didn’t mention Ziara’s status as Sloan’s assistant. Her instinct was to correct him the first time, but something stopped her at the last minute. She didn’t want to be that person right now, which was both scary and exhilarating.

      Would the universe fall apart if she loosened up for just this one night?

      They finally settled in with a small group of Patrick’s theater buddies, one or two of whom had also known Sloan since college. After a period of catching up, one of the men turned to her. “And what do you do, Ziara?”

      Unsure how much she should reveal, she answered, “I’m an executive assistant in training at a wedding gown design firm.”

      “Hey, Sloan, doesn’t your family own one of those?” one of the men asked.

      “Yep.”

      “Which is why I’m in training—to keep him on track,” she said, unable to resist teasing.

      Everyone chuckled. Before Sloan could make a snappy reply, Patrick stepped into the gap between them. “Could I borrow my buddies here for a few minutes? There’s something I think they’d like to see.”

      Ziara nodded, smiling as the men stepped away. The women around her chatted about the wedding dress industry, distracting her from a sudden sense of vulnerability. With a deep breath, she remembered she could take care of herself. She’d been doing it every day since a very early age.

      After chatting for a while, she excused herself to hunt down a drink. Despite the variety of alcohol at the bar, the parched Nevada air had put Ziara in desperate need of plain old water. When the waiter gave her the bottle, she opened it gratefully. The chilly liquid soothed her dry throat.

      Someone bumped into her from behind, hard. Grimacing as cold water splashed across her bodice, she tightened her grip on her drink and spun around.

      “I’m sorry,” said a man in a navy suit with a loosened tie, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. His gaze wavered and he took precise care in pronouncing his words. He was obviously drunk but trying to hide it.

      “No harm done,” she said, brushing at the water spots darkening her dress. She replaced the lid on her bottle for good measure. “It’s just water. It’ll dry.”

      He stared at her a moment before a pseudo-charming smile tightened his loose lips. “That’s nice.”

      Her tension mounted as he closed the gap between them. She told herself he wouldn’t attempt anything in a room full of people, but she’d seen enough drunks to know they were unpredictable.

      “You’re really pretty,” he said, only slurring the words a little. His slight adjustment to his tie and straightening of his shoulders reinforced his attempt at being suave. It wasn’t working for her.

      “Thank you.” She moved back a few steps before forcing herself to stop. Stand your ground.

      “I think such beauty deserves a kiss.” As the man advanced, Ziara held up her hands to maintain distance between them. Her water bottle dropped to the floor.

      “Stop right there,” she said, remembered panic adding force to her words. “I’m not interested, so you can just back away.”

      He paused. “What do you mean, not interested? I bet you’re just saying that. Women who look like you are always interested.”

      His assumption punctured her normally impenetrable armor. Her arms wavered long enough for him to slip through. Grabbing her, he dragged her body closer. “I’ll just have a taste of the goods for sale.”

      If his earlier words were a pinprick, these were a knife to the heart. The pain that lanced through her provided the strength to slam her foot down on his toes as he leaned forward to touch his lips to hers. Then she shoved him back, straight into Patrick’s chest.

      Sloan’s friend surveyed the situation with wide eyes behind his designer wire-rimmed glasses. Sliding an arm around the man’s shoulders, he said, “Come on, Michael. Let’s get you into a taxi before my friend here decides to find the nearest meat grinder.”

      As Patrick led the drunk away, Sloan moved close to study her but kept his hands to himself. Her contrary body protested, aching for his touch.

      “Are you okay?” he asked, his face tight.

      “I’m fine,” she said, struggling to control the sudden shake in her voice. She reached down for her water bottle. “No big deal.”

      He leaned forward until his eyes were level with hers. “Really? Because I don’t think that guy’s foot would agree with you.”

      A glance in that direction showed Patrick and the drunk had disappeared. “I’m sorry I made a scene at Patrick’s party. I’ll certainly apologize and smooth things over when he returns.”

      Sloan clasped her wrist, using it to guide her to a secluded corner. “I don’t give a damn about any scene. That guy’s lucky I didn’t coldcock him. I’m kind of jealous that you handled it without me.”

      Though his mouth remained serious, his eyes smiled into hers. She was never so glad to see the crinkles along the sides.

      “Well, a woman has to do what a woman has to do. This is the twenty-first century, you know.”

      “Does that mean I can’t lead while we dance?” They shared a smile, then he bent close to her ear, his breath ruffling her hair. “I have the odd compulsion to throw a blanket over you. But I doubt you need me for protection.”

      She shivered, afraid of her sudden yearning for connection. Her body felt as if it was attached to an electric pulse. She’d never had this reaction to the few lovers she’d previously accepted, men she’d chosen very carefully for their safe auras. The two who’d made it to the sexual stage hadn’t been worth a repeat performance.

      She had an inkling being with Sloan would be the performance of her life.

      “Let’s dance,” he said in a husky whisper.

      She stiffened, trying to pull back as he led her through the crowded rooms to the patio. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sloan. I’ve never danced before.”

      He paused. “Never?”

      She shook her head.

      “Not on a date?”

      “No.”

      “Not even at a school dance?”

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