“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.