by Radclyffe
When their lips touched, her body came to life, her senses pulsing with forgotten hunger. Emily’s hands moving over her, the soft sounds she made in her throat, the invitation in her body when they pressed close was nothing she hadn’t felt before, and absolutely unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Oh yeah, there would be another kiss.
A black SUV emerged from traffic and pulled over in front of her. She climbed in and gave her address. When she got back to the apartment, she poured a glass of port and carried it into the bedroom. It wasn’t that late, but she was tired and knew she’d sleep. After undressing, she slipped into bed in the dark. Her mind was at last blessedly quiet and oddly content. She set the glass aside, pulled up Emily’s number, and hit send.
“Hello?” Emily said softly on the second ring.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I was just…”
“Just?”
Emily laughed, a bright, self-conscious laugh. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Funny,” Derian said, “I was just doing the same thing.”
“Were you.”
“I was thinking about kissing you again.”
Emily was silent.
“Were you thinking about that too?”
“Derian? What are we do—”
“It’s safe enough. You’re there and I’m here, right?” Derian laughed. “And really, as much as I feel like I’m in high school right now, I’m not trying to talk you into phone sex.”
“Really? High school and phone sex?” Emily exploded with laughter.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never—”
“Absolutely not. I’m not telling you my deep, darkest secrets.”
Derian smiled. “All right, then I’ll go first. Janie Mankiewicz.”
“Your first girlfriend?”
“Tennis instructor,” Derian said. “Ten years my senior, making her the older woman. Also married, and very bored.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen when we had the sexy phone conversations. We never did get much beyond that.”
“All right,” Emily said, “you’ve got my attention. Who started it?”
Derian laughed. “Well, in hindsight, I think she might’ve flirted a little bit at first, but I was too busy thinking about how good her breas—”
“I think I get it,” Emily said archly, a laugh undercutting her mock criticism.
“Let’s say it was mutual.”
“Fair enough. So which one of you mutually instigated this scintillating conversation?”
“Hmm…Yeah, that would be a good word for it.”
“Derian,” Emily said warningly, “you’re stalling.”
“Not at all! I’m building suspense.”
“Consider me suspended.”
“You have an interesting way with words,” Derian teased. “What are you wearing?”
“None of your business.”
“Okay, I’ll just make it up—let’s see, a black lacy—”
“A peach tank top and…plain, boring…underthings.”
“Underthings? Somehow I thought you were in bed.”
“I am.”
“Then why—”
“The tennis instructor?”
“Oh, right, Janie.” Picturing Emily in a flimsy tank and panties was a lot more interesting. Her throat was suddenly dry and she wished for some more port. “So, after one particularly hot, sweaty afternoon, I came up with some excuse to call her after I’d gotten home and showered. Somehow, I managed to mention I’d just done that.”
“And?”
“She said something about it being too hot to wear clothes and maybe I mentioned that I wasn’t, and you know…descriptions were involved.”
Emily’s voice caught. “I can imagine that might have been…interesting.”
Derian skimmed her fingertips down her stomach. The memory of Janie and what had been so exciting at the time was now merely an amusing memory. Emily’s voice, though, filled her with slow, simmering pleasure. “If you’d like, I could fill you in on what I’m—”
“I’ve seen you, remember?”
“Oh.” Derian chuckled. “In the hall. I’d forgotten.”
“I haven’t.”
The breath punched from Derian’s chest and the heat ratcheted up a couple hundred degrees. “Emily. This could get serious.”
“We’re not going to have phone sex,” Emily murmured.
“Why not?” Derian enjoyed playing, and Emily was a great partner. The low, speculative note in Emily’s voice intrigued her. But she intended to be touching her, watching her, devouring her, the first time Emily came with her.
“As much as I find the idea interesting,” Emily said, “I’m afraid I might miss too much.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” Derian pressed her hand more firmly against her stomach, enjoying the low steep of arousal in her belly. Emily kept her on edge, every cell incredibly alive. “I promise to be sure you don’t miss…anything.”
“Oh, I’m not worrying.”
Derian sighed. “I should let you get some sleep.”
“You must be tired too.”
“I am, and I think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”
“Good. Thanks for calling.”
“I’m glad you didn’t mind. I wasn’t ready to let you go.”
“I didn’t mind. Good night, Derian.”
“Good night, Emily.” Derian set the phone aside and closed her eyes. The lingering arousal, along with the memory of Emily’s voice, shadowed her into sleep.
*
Derian emerged from the ICU after her ten thirty visit the next morning to find Emily waiting in the hall. She was dressed for work, in dark green pants, brown boots, and a slightly lighter brown soft wool sweater. Derian couldn’t help conjure an image of pale peach panties, lacy in all the right places. “Hi, I was…ah…about to call you.”
“I knew you’d be here,” Emily said. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
“I slept fine.” Derian grinned, her mood lightening by centuries as it always did whenever she saw Emily. The change was like stepping into sunlight after emerging from a long walk through a cave filled with winding tunnels, blind ends, and no sense of direction. She shook off the disconcerting sensation. “Better than fine. How about you?”
Emily grinned. “I had the most interesting dreams…”
When her voice trailed off and her brows lifted, Derian laughed. “You know, there’s really a bad girl hiding under that very good girl exterior.”
“You mean there’s a sexy librarian somewhere?”
Derian leaned a shoulder against the wall, moving out of the way of two attendants pushing a hospital bed carrying a patient with all the usual equipment toward the ICU. When they’d passed, she nodded. “I think the shy librarian is just a ruse.”
“Really? And what exactly do you think I’m hiding?”
“Dark, wild passions, hopefully.”
Huffing, Emily shook her head. “I’m afraid you would be very disappointed.”
“I don’t think so. But I hope to find out.” Derian couldn’t help but inject an invitation into her voice. God, when was the last time just being near a woman made her tremble?
Almost as if Emily realized their flirtations had crossed the border into seduction, she colored and looked away. “The nurses told me she’s better.”
Derian accepted Emily’s silent request for a time-out. “She had a good night. She’s a little bit more alert, but I’m not entirely certain she’ll remember we’ve been here. They’ve got her pretty doped up.”
“Probably just as well. Who would want to remember this part of it?” Her tone was tinged with uncharacteristic bitterness.
“Hey.” Derian slipped her palm around Emily’s elbow and drew her closer. “How are you doing?”
Emily lightly rested her fingertips on Derian’s arm, the brief contact electric. “I’m okay. Really.”
“I should let you go i
n.”
“I know.” Emily sighed. “I don’t want to stay away from the agency too long, but I needed to see her.”
“I’ll keep you updated during the day.”
“Thanks.”
“How are things going over there?”
“I’m afraid rebellion might be fomenting. No one feels comfortable or particularly secure without Henrietta or someone else they trust in charge. And then with all the changes—” She grimaced. “Somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, Donatella has redirected the entire focus of the agency, at least in theory. How well everyone is going to accept her mandates is another question.”
“I talked to Aud about it,” Derian said.
“Oh, Derian.” Emily was grateful, relieved, but concerned too. She hadn’t wanted to draw Derian into a situation she’d clearly wanted to avoid. “I’m so sorry all of this has spilled over onto you.”
Derian lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it’s time.”
“You ought to be able to pick the timing of your battles yourself.”
“I’m not sure life works that way. Sometimes the battles come to us, and until they do, we don’t know where we stand.”
“Well I don’t expect you to go to battle for us.”
“So far I can’t say I have. I don’t know much more today than I did yesterday. Donatella is my father’s choice, and exactly what his agenda might be, Aud probably knows, but, well—”
Emily doubted Derian wanted to create difficulties with Aud over something she’d never wanted to get involved in. Especially if they were in the process of reconnecting. “I’ll do my best to keep everyone calm. I’m sure this will all be straightened out before long.”
“I promised Henrietta I’d do my best to help, and so far I haven’t done much.”
Emily took Derian’s hand. “That is so very untrue. Just your being here means everything.”
“Your faith in me is a little scary.”
Emily smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect miracles.”
“What do you expect?”
“Only that you do what feels right.”
At the moment, kissing Emily again was the only thing on Derian’s mind, and she was pretty sure, under the circumstances, that probably wasn’t the right move. All the same, she savored the heat of Emily’s hand in hers. “I’ll do my best.”
Emily’s gaze held hers, as warm as an embrace. “That’s more than enough.”
Derian’s chest filled with a sensation she couldn’t immediately place. Finally she recognized it. Emily’s certainty filled her with pride, and she’d do anything not to disappoint her. All she had to do was figure out where to start.
*
“You’re awake.” Derian grinned broadly and leaned down to kiss Henrietta’s cheek. The light tentative touch of Henrietta’s answering caress on her cheek lifted her heart almost as much as the clear recognition and familiar sharpness in Henrietta’s eyes.
“You look better than the last time I saw you,” Henrietta said slowly, her raspy voice fainter than usual but clear.
Derian chuckled. “As a matter of fact, so do you.”
“What is this place?”
“Intermediate care.” Derian pulled a chair close to the bed. “They tell me you made it out of the ICU in record time.”
“Too long for me.”
“I think a day and a half, most of which you were sleeping, is a record.”
“Who can sleep with all that constant noise, perpetual lights, and interruptions every five seconds.”
Derian folded her arms on the low rail encircling Henrietta’s bed and leaned her chin on her arms. The nurses had said the first twenty-four hours were the most crucial, and she’d spent most of the past day prowling the halls outside the ICU, visiting as often as they would let her in. Emily had been there twice, and each time she’d seen her, the acid in her belly had calmed. Aud had called. Martin had not come. “I bet the nurses in the ICU miss you.”
“Ha. How long have I been here?” Henrietta sounded irritated and a lot like her old self, even if the volume of her voice was considerably reduced. “I can’t seem to keep track of time.”
“You’ve been in the hospital about three days. Your surgery was a little over two days ago.”
“What day is it?”
“It’s Thursday.”
Henrietta’s brows drew down. “Thursday. I have a very full calendar today. Who’s taking care of that?”
“I wondered when that was coming,” Derian mused.
“Don’t get smart.”
Derian grinned. “Vonnie and Emily have things totally under control.”
Since that was the truth as far as Henrietta’s calendar, she didn’t mind obfuscating just a little bit. Telling Henrietta that Donatella had moved into her office was the last thing she was going to do.
“They won’t give me a phone,” Henrietta fussed. “So I need you to give Vonnie a few messages.”
“No deal. HW,” Derian said, “you’re just going to have to let them take care of the agency for a while. You’re not ready to start working.”
“I’m hardly working, lying here,” Henrietta said, but her voice was flagging and she looked tired.
“Trust me,” Derian said, vowing again to keep her word, “everything at the agency is under control. Emily, Vonnie, and I will make sure of it.”
Henrietta’s eyes closed for an instant, then slowly opened. “Sorry, I know you never wanted…”
“It’s okay,” Derian murmured. “I’m not sure I ever really knew what I wanted.”
Henrietta drifted off to sleep and Derian leaned back in the chair, listening to her breathe. HW wasn’t out of the woods by a long shot, and the staff had made it pretty clear she wouldn’t be ready to take on any kind of work-related activity for an indefinite period of time. The longer Donatella was at the helm of the agency, the harder it would be to reverse whatever destructive mandates she put in place. Emily needed to be in charge, just as HW had directed. Martin would oppose that on principle. Aud had said without Henrietta’s backing, and considering Emily’s nonresident status, the chances of Emily taking charge were slim.
The first order of business, then, was to do something about that. She needed to think like HW—what was the goal, and what was the most direct route to success. She’d need to spend more time at the agency, and with Emily, to find out. She closed her eyes and smiled. Not a bad plan at all.
Chapter Eighteen
At eight o’clock in the morning, the streets were teeming with taxis, people, delivery trucks, and the occasional unwary traveler who hadn’t any idea that driving in New York City would be like navigating in an unknown universe at warp speed. The temperature was much more springlike, the sky was an unusually clear blue, and Derian opted to walk to Midtown, enjoying the bright sky and keeping her mind a careful blank. Anticipating what was to come would only sour a perfectly good morning that had started with memories of an even better evening. When she thought of Emily, she had a completely irrational urge to whistle. Next thing she knew, she’d be skipping. She laughed softly, wondering if she looked as crazy to the passersby as she felt. This was a crazy she liked, and seeing Martin, however unpleasant, would be no worse this time than it ever had been before. Funny, how coming face-to-face with his disdain never got easier, despite how much time had passed. Ridiculous, really, to be bothered by it after all this time.
She strolled into the lobby of the Winfield Building, an ultra-sleek glass and steel structure that took up half of one block and had absolutely no redeeming architectural features. Martin probably thought the gleam and polish and imposing façade bespoke power, which she suspected was the only thing that really mattered to him. When she thought of all the incredibly beautiful buildings she had seen throughout the world, unforgettable testaments to human creativity and art, she was reminded again how shallow his vision really was.
She didn’t know the guard at the desk commanding the center of the foyer, placed there to disr
upt the flow toward the elevators on either side of the marble-floored lobby beyond and facilitate more intense surveillance. He watched her with bored disregard as employees with badges prominently displayed passed by. He was probably forty, well on his way to middle-aged seed from too many hours sitting behind that desk, his thick, ruddy neck bulging slightly over his buttoned collar. His tie appeared on the verge of strangling him. He wore a faux-military type uniform as would befit Martin’s vision of his company having the importance of a small country, making him the king.
“Help you?”
“I’m on my way to see Mr. Winfield. I know the way.”
“Just a minute.” The guard turned to a computer, pulled up a screen she couldn’t see, and said, “Name?”
“Derian Winfield.”
He typed, scanned the monitor for a long moment, and slowly turned back to look at her. “You’re not on the list,” he said, a little uncertainty in his flat voice now.
“No, I’m not. Martin’s offices still on sixty-five?”
“Look, I’m not supposed to let anyone up who’s not on the admit list or daily appointment schedule.”
“I’m his daughter,” Derian said, the words sounding foreign and ill-fitting.
“Uh, I better call up.”
“I’ll just go up and speak directly to his secretary. If anyone mentions it, you can just tell them I didn’t give you a choice.”
“Right, well, I’m sure there won’t be any problem.”
She smiled. “Absolutely not.”