Was that true? She didn’t know. She hadn’t
discussed intimate feelings for someone since she was a teenager, and those
wishful relationships had just been crushes. And come to think of it, she’d
never really discussed her girl crushes with her friends, especially since her
biggest had been on a best friend who was undeniably and irrevocably interested
in boys, and only boys. And after that, there hadn’t been anything serious
enough to discuss with anyone. But what would she say?
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” she
said, almost to herself.
A sympathetic expression crossed his face.
“You could start with how you feel about her.”
Emily laughed abruptly. “Wouldn’t that be
starting at the end instead of the beginning?”
“I suppose it depends on your perspective.
Start at your beginning, then.”
Something about his kindness and the genuine
friendship beneath all his teasing and prodding, mixed with her own confused
emotions, prompted her to put into words what she’d almost been afraid to
consider. “We’ve had dinner a couple of times.”
“Aha, and where did that happen?”
“Well, I told you about the first time,” she
said a little impatiently, not at all certain she wanted to go down this path.
“At her apartment in the Dakota.”
“I’ve never been in there. Is it as fabulous
as they say?”
She laughed. “It is.”
“Okay, enough of that—you can tell me all
about the décor later. And the next time?”
“I cooked for her,” she said softly.
“Wow,” he said with a reverent tone. “That’s
very personal. Just dinner?”
“Yes,” Emily said hearing the prim tone in
her voice and chiding herself inwardly. Why was she hiding her feelings? “Just
dinner and…a good-night kiss.” Before he could say another word, she held up
her hand. “That’s all, just a kiss. And I’m not saying any more about that.”
“Oh, you can’t be serious. You kissed Derian
Winfield? How many times?”
“I’m not giving any details.”
“All right,” he said musingly, a thoughtful
expression crossing his face, “let’s discuss the theoretical. Do you want to
kiss her again?”
For one of those rare times in her life,
words failed her. If she voiced her desires, then what? Would she no longer be
able to deny to herself how very attracted she was to Derian? And since when
was she afraid to face her own feelings or the realities of her life? She
sighed. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”
“And how about her? Has she issued any
invitations?”
I
want to make love to you. Derian hadn’t been afraid to say what she
wanted—and what did that say? Was Derian so unused to rejection, she didn’t
mind exposing her feelings? Or had she really been as driven by passion as
she’d sounded? Emily remembered the heat of Derian’s mouth on her throat and
the gravelly desperation in her tone.