The Color of Love (24 page)

“Kiss me again,” Derian whispered, words
she’d never said in her life. She slid a hand beneath the back of Emily’s tank,
smoothing her fingers up and down the faint ridge of her spine, molding Emily’s
body closer to hers. She could feel Emily’s breasts, soft and full, pressing
into her chest and slipped her hand around to cup the warm yielding curve of
her. Instantly, Emily arched with a small cry of surprise. A lightning spear of
desire shot through Derian’s depths and Derian closed her hand without
thinking.

“Oh yes.” Emily gasped and pressed her hand
over Derian’s, aching need blinding her to everything. The room disappeared,
her past fell away, her future was only the want in Derian’s eyes. “That feels
so good. You make me feel so good.”

Derian groaned again. “I want more. I need
more. I need you naked.”

“I want you too, you must feel it.” Emily
shuddered. “Not…now.”

“When?”

“I can’t think. I have to think.”

“Why?” Derian pressed her face to Emily’s
breasts, her chest heaving, and the hand around Emily’s breast trembled. “I
want you so much.”

Emily couldn’t recall why not. “We don’t have
much time. If we hurry—”

Derian growled and shook her head. “I’m not
rushing. Not with you.” She looked up, grinned. Emily’s lips, flushed and red,
parted. Her eyes glinted with hunger, hunger that answered Derian’s. She looked
sexy and dangerous. “I need a lot of time to do what I’m planning to do.”

“Slow is nice,” Emily murmured, skimming her
fingers over Derian’s mouth. She wanted her mouth. She wanted her mouth
everywhere
. “But honest
to God, I wouldn’t mind fast right about now.”

Derian laughed. “There’s my bad girl.”

Emily grinned. “You definitely have the wrong
idea about me.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t think so. Everything about
you amazes me.” Derian wrapped both arms around her and tugged until Emily
straddled her lap. She kissed her mouth, moved to her throat, and explored her
breasts through the thin cotton of her tank, brushing her mouth over the hard
points of her nipples. When she pulled one into her mouth, cotton and all,
Emily arched, pressing tight into her lap, her head thrown back, her breasts
mounding beneath her tank. Derian’s vision swam and longing pushed the breath
from her chest.

Keeping Emily steady with an arm wrapped
around her waist, Derian pulled up Emily’s tank and caressed her breasts and
her belly and angle of her hip. Emily rocked in her lap, a seductive invitation
for more. Derian murmured against her skin, “You’re sure about the time thing?”

“Believe me, I wish I weren’t.” Emily
struggled for breath. “But if we miss any of our appointments, Henrietta—”

“Stop!” Derian groaned. “Way to put out the
fire, baby.”

Laughing, Emily caressed Derian’s face, both
hands gently outlining her cheeks and the angles of her jaw, finally sliding
down her neck and under the collar of her shirt. Derian had never been touched
with such care, or such desire. She sighed, content despite the simmering
tension making her insides roil. “I love the way you touch me.”

“I’m so glad.” Emily kissed her again, for
herself, for the pleasure of the softness of Derian’s mouth and the way the
briefest contact filled her with longing and delight. She kissed her for the
low groans torn from Derian’s chest, for the tightening of Derian’s hands on
her hips, for the quickening of Derian’s pulse beneath her fingertips. She
kissed her for the sheer and simple joy of it. “I don’t think I could ever get
tired of touching you.”

“I’m dying to give you the chance to find
out.”

“I wish I didn’t have to do this.” Emily
kissed her lightly, and with more strength than she’d ever known she possessed,
braced both hands on Derian’s shoulders and carefully climbed off her lap. Her
legs were shaking. Everything inside her quivered. She hadn’t been kidding. She
wouldn’t have minded fast at all. If Derian touched her right now, she was
pretty sure she would come. But if Derian wanted slow, then they’d do slow,
sometime. If she didn’t think about it, if she didn’t give in to the tiny
kernel of panic that kept threatening to swell into reason and make her run,
far and fast. If she didn’t think about what they were doing or what it might
mean.

Derian frowned. “Whatever you’re thinking
about, stop.”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t really thinking
of anything.” Emily stepped back and busied herself pouring the tea. “How could
I be? You tend to make me brainless.”

“No,” Derian said quietly, opening the bakery
bag. “A minute ago you weren’t thinking at all, and you wanted me. Then you
started worrying. Don’t do that.”

“I don’t know if I can stop,” Emily said
carefully, taking two plates from the tray and setting one in front of each of
their places at the table. She sat across from Derian, grateful not to have to
stand any longer when her legs still threatened to desert her. “I’m a planner.
I’m not spontaneous. I like to know the consequences, or at least the
possibilities, before I rush into something.”

“I didn’t get you cookies, but I thought you
might like scones.” Derian placed a cinnamon scone with a swirl of white
frosting on the top in front of Emily.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Derian fixed her with her heavy-lidded,
languorous gaze. “Don’t overthink your feelings. There’s some things you can’t
know until they happen. You can’t call the shot until the card is played.
Sometimes you just have to gamble.”

“I’m not much of a gambler.”

“Sure you are. You took a chance coming to
this country, you took a chance contacting Henrietta, and you took an even
bigger chance setting your stakes at the agency. You’re winning all of those.
Trust your instincts. You’re a winner.”

“There isn’t a single thing about going to
bed with you that resembles any of those choices.” Emily broke off a piece of
scone. It was delicious, but after Derian’s kisses, not enough to satisfy.

Derian grinned. “I’m very glad to hear I have
more appeal than Winfield’s. I’d like to think I’m a lot more exciting.”

“Oh, I think I can safely say that you are.”
Emily took a breath. “I’m not really sure we should go any further, though.”

“Emily, that ship has sailed.”

“Oh, baloney,” Emily snapped.

“Baloney?”

Emily waved a hand. “Nothing has sailed
anywhere until we—”

“When,” Derian said comfortably, popping a
piece of carrot muffin into her mouth. “When we make love.”

“Are you always so damn sure…never mind, I
know you are.” Emily blew out a breath. “But things have changed at the agency.
You’re there now, you’re in charge. You’re my boss.”

“Oh, baloney.” Derian tamped down a wave of
irritation. She couldn’t discount Emily’s feelings, as ridiculous as she found
that whole argument. If it was important to Emily, it had to be important to
her. “First of all, I’m not your boss. I’m Henrietta’s temporary stand-in, and
you are more
my
boss than the other way around. Everyone knows it.”

“Derian, you’ve been at the agency half a
week. You catch on quickly. And even if you were an utter failure, you’re still
Derian Winfield, Henrietta’s niece, and you are very much everyone’s boss.”

“Is that how you think of me?”

Emily sighed. “I’m trying to.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“You. You confuse me. I have trouble thinking
clearly when I think about you.”

Derian grinned that self-satisfied grin.
“Good.” She glanced at her watch. “I guess we should probably get going if
we’re going to make those appointments.”

“The problem isn’t going to go away,” Emily
said, taking her tea with her as she rose. “I’ll be ready in just a few
minutes.”

“The problem isn’t a problem unless we make
it one,” Derian called after her. “Do you think you could wear the slippers?”

Emily muttered something under her breath
Derian couldn’t catch, but the intention was clear. Derian laughed. She’d never
met a woman who could make her laugh as easily as she could make her insane
with desire. Emily was unique. She wouldn’t let a tangle of government red tape
or her father’s ego threaten Emily’s happiness, especially not when she could
do something to solve the problem.

The Town Car let them off at the corner of
Thirty-Fourth Street and Eleventh Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen behind a long line
of double-parked cabs disgorging people in droves. Sidewalks and crosswalks
were packed with people converging on the Javits Convention Center, a sprawling
modern glass and concrete building four stories tall and as many deep, that
extended for six blocks along Eleventh. Rows of hot dog and pretzel vendors
were setting up on the curb and, given that the sky was overcast and
threatening rain at any second, the ubiquitous vendors selling umbrellas from
the back of vans had arrived as well. A carnival atmosphere prevailed despite
the menacing skies.

“Looks like opening day in Cannes,” Derian
remarked, resting her hand gently in the small of Emily’s back as they wound
their way through the crowds.

“Prepare yourself for something very
different,” Emily said, laughing.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have.” Derian imagined a
long day of networking, the very idea of which made her want to head in the
opposite direction. But she’d have Emily for company, and that made the
dreariness more than tolerable. She was actually looking forward to the event.

When they made it through the long row of
glass doors into the foyer, Derian drew a sharp breath. She’d known what to expect,
but the assault was always the same. Huge spaces filled with people, banks of
escalators going up and down, signs everywhere, and an overwhelming sense of
disorientation. Even casinos had more orderly layouts than this place. Sweat
gathered on the back of her neck. The initial panic was always the same.

“We just have to pick up our badges.” Emily,
her voice bright with excitement, pointed to the registration area and a long
row of booths in the far right corner.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited
to be going to a conference,” Derian said, hurrying to keep up with Emily, who
cut through the crowds like a cab on Seventh Avenue.

“Oh,” Emily said, arrowing in on her target,
“this is a lot more than a conference. This is…everything—it’s what we’re all
about. Not just what’s new in books, but how we make them, who’s reading them,
and where the industry is headed.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need an
interpreter,” Derian said, “because I feel like a stranger in a strange land.”

Emily grasped her arm. “Don’t worry, you have
a seasoned guide. The first time I attended with Henrietta I was the same way.”

“I doubt that—at least you speak the
language.”

“You will too, soon. Until then, I’ll be your
backup.”

“It seems like you’ve been doing that for me
since we met.” Derian grimaced. “I’m usually not quite so useless.”

Emily paused and the crowd flowed around
them, leaving them standing like a tiny island in a sea of frothing humanity.
“You are less in need of aid than any person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks, but I owe you—”

“No, you don’t. Caring is not something that
comes with a price on it.”

“It is where I come from,” Derian said
softly. “With everyone except HW. And now you. It will take some getting used
to.”

“Work on it, then. Because I’m not going to
stop.”

Emily spoke quietly, but her words carried
deep into Derian’s soul. She wished they were anywhere but in a crowded
convention hall right that moment. The desire to kiss her was a physical ache.
“That’s good to know.”

“I want you to promise me something,” Emily
said.

“Anything.”

“That you’ll stop looking at me like that for
the rest of the day.”

Derian grinned. “That’s going to be very
difficult for me to do, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, her voice a warm
embrace. “Now come on. The
W
s
are at the far end.” She slid her hand behind Derian’s elbow, unobtrusively
leading her past the snaking rows of people queued up in front of overhead
signs. “Let’s find your line.”

When Derian got at the end of the line Emily
indicated, she said, “I better wait here for you. If I try finding you, I’m
likely to get turned around and end up wandering in here for forty years.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Emily smiled. “If you
did, I’d find you.”

“Good to know.” Derian wasn’t used to anyone
helping her out in these kinds of situations, but then she never let on how
hard some things were for her.

“I’ll be right back, and then we’ll do a
little reconnoitering,” Emily added. “This place is a big city, and it takes a
little getting used to it.”

“I’m game,” Derian said. “Go ahead. I’m good.”

“I know.” Emily hurried to the appropriate
row to pick up her badge, hating to leave Derian and feeling foolish for
worrying at the same time. Derian was perfectly capable. She traveled the
world, made her home in more cities than Emily ever hoped to visit, and wasn’t
going to be overcome by the chaos of a convention center. As much as she knew
all of that, she still hated to leave her. She wanted to be with her, not
because Derian needed taking care of, but because she enjoyed being near her
more than anything she’d ever experienced. She loved talking business with her,
loved playing verbal games with her, certainly loved kissing her, and just
found the world a brighter, more exciting place when she was with her. She
loved—

“Can I help you?” A cheerful middle-aged man
with a badge around his neck that said he was a volunteer smiled at her from
behind the registration counter.

“Oh!” Emily wondered how long she’d been
standing there. “I need to pick up my registration materials. Um, Emily May.”

“Certainly,” he said and began riffling
through a long box of name cards. “Here we are.”