The Color of Love

Chapter Twenty-one

The downstairs buzzer rang at 6:30 a.m. Someone had buzzed her apartment by mistake. Emily debated ignoring it, but almost immediately changed her mind. Maybe it was an early-morning delivery of some kind. She pressed the intercom button beside the door. “Yes?”

“I come bearing gifts.”

A delivery, but not one she’d been expecting.

“Derian?” She didn’t really have to ask. She recognized the golden honey-smooth timbre of her voice and recognized the quick upbeat of her heart as well. She glanced down at her fluffy bunny slippers and her sweats and her tank top. “I’m not dressed.”

“Oh, then by all means, hurry up and buzz me in.”

Laughing, Emily said, “I thought we were meeting at the convention center?”

“I know, but I was awake, and I knew you’d be up. Should I just leave my gifts out here on the steps?”

“Of course not.” Emily pressed the foyer door release and contemplated whether she had enough time to change into something—anything—that wasn’t this. Too late. Derian must have taken the stairs three at a time, because somehow she was rapping at the door already. Sighing, Emily opened the door and immediately forgot why she cared what she was wearing.

Derian smiled in at her, her dark hair slightly windblown, her darker eyes dancing with mischief and pleasure. She leaned in and kissed Emily’s cheek. Her lips were warm. “Hi.”

“Uh…hi.” Emily held the door open wider and Derian breezed by, full of energy and carrying the scent of spring, brisk and fresh and new. She shed her topcoat and casually draped it over the arm of the sofa. She wore tailored dark pants, a black belt, and a pearl gray shirt. Professionally casual. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.

“You look great.”

Derian tilted her head, eying Emily as if she’d never been complimented before. Which was impossible. “Thanks. I’ve been studying the dress code.”

Emily laughed at the outright exaggeration and caught the aroma of something mouthwatering. “What have you been doing so early this morning? Whatever you’ve got in there smells wonderful.”

“City Bakery.” Derian carried the bag to the little table in front of the windows and settled easily into the chair, looking totally at home. Her gaze wandered over Emily and she grinned. “You look terrific, by the way.”

Emily tried to keep the blush from rising to her face. “I look like I’m in my pajamas, which I am. Thankfully, I have showered.”

Derian’s mouth quirked. “I thought I smelled something wonderful just now.”

“Would you like some tea?” Emily tried desperately to redirect the conversation.

“Sure.” Derian leaned back in the chair and stretched out her legs, totally content to simply watch Emily move about her small kitchen with practiced efficiency. She did look great in a pale salmon tank top, red sweatpants that had been washed so much they too were nearly a faded pink, and honest-to-God bunny slippers. How could someone look so sexy and not know it? Watching her was a pleasure, but suddenly she wanted more.

“This thing we’re going to,” Derian said, hearing the huskiness in her voice, “how important is it?”

Emily paused in the process of pouring steaming water into her teapot and shrugged. “The BEA? For us, it’s like the biggest race on the Grand Prix circuit.”

Derian frowned. “Really.”

“Really.” Emily carried the robin’s-egg blue teapot, cups, and matching sandwich plates to the table on a hand-painted tray picturing a weeping willow beside a sparkling waterfall and set it down. “Why?”

Derian caught Emily’s hand, pulled her onto her lap, and nuzzled her neck. “So it would be a bad thing if we blew it off.”

Emily stiffened for an instant, surprise giving way to a swift surge of desire. She’d already wrapped her arms around Derian’s neck before she realized what she was doing. And by then she didn’t care to consider anything but the urge for Derian’s mouth on her skin. She tilted her head to give her throat, stroking Derian’s nape as she thrust her fingers into her hair, wanting nothing more than for Derian to continue her slow course of kisses down her neck, for Derian’s hands to slide under her T-shirt and over her bare belly and breasts. God, she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Derian. We have to go to the meeting.”

“Uh-huh.” Derian pressed her cheek to the creamy, soft skin of Emily’s chest and wrapped her arms around Emily’s waist, closing her eyes and breathing her in. “How late can we be?”

“We have appointments first thing.”

Derian rubbed her cheek over the swell of Emily’s breast. “Every other second—no, every second—I think about being with you, like this, of kissing you slowly, everywhere, and undressing you, filling my hands with you.”

“No one has ever said anything like that to me before,” Emily said with a sigh. She cradled Derian’s cheek and raised Derian’s head from her breast. Dark, enticing shadows swam in Derian’s eyes, beckoning her, promising her pleasure and discovery. Emily kissed her, craving the taste of her, yearning for the heat she knew would flood her. Derian groaned deep in her chest, a primal, possessive sound Emily loved. She loved the power she had to make Derian hunger as she hungered. Desire flared, pulled from deep inside where some ancient, primitive voice echoed yes. Yes and yes and yes. Distantly, her mind reverberated with no, no, no, but her mind was no match for the sensations swirling through her. The excitement, the wonder, the aching clawing need. “Oh God. We have to stop, but you feel so good.”

“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.