“The agency is safe. I promise.”
“And what about you? How are you holding up
under Martin’s guns?”
“He didn’t draw much blood this time.”
“I’m sorry. He’s a fool.”
“I’m learning not to expect him to change.”
Derian realized the most powerful antidote to her father’s criticism was her
own sense of accomplishment. For the first time, the sting of his disregard no
longer made her want to grab the first plane to anywhere else. “And I’m okay
with that.”
Henrietta squeezed her hand. “Then you truly
have won.”
Derian wasn’t sure about that, but she
figured she might be on the right track at last. And right now all she really
wanted to think about was her dinner date with Emily.
*
Emily wiped her hands on a dish towel and
hurried to the door. She checked the peephole and quickly pulled the door open.
“Hi! You’re early.”
“Your downstairs neighbor let me in. I
assured her I wasn’t a burglar.”
“You do have the look of a scoundrel about
you,” Emily said, leaning up to kiss Derian quickly but firmly. “Come in.”
“I’m a little early, but I was just hanging
around the office, and I thought I’d much rather be hanging around here.”
Derian lifted the bottle of wine she had tucked under her arm. “In case the
other one didn’t survive.”
“Thanks. I’m afraid I’m still in the prep
stage, and”—Emily frowned, indicating her jeans and T-shirt—“I’m not dressed.”
“I was kind of hoping for the bunny
slippers.” Derian set the wine on a nearby table and pulled Emily close. She
kissed her, one hand settling low on her back, her fingers dipping beneath the
waistband of Emily’s jeans. She loved the feel of that little dip at the base
of her spine, so soft and sensuous. “You look terrific. Don’t change a thing.”
Emily wriggled closer. “I’m not having dinner
with you wearing a Star
Wars T-shirt.”
Derian grinned. “I like it, but I would’ve
put you in the Star Trek
camp.”
“I’m one of those rare individuals who’s
never chosen sides. I think they’re both incredible for different reasons.”
Leaning back, Emily spread her palms over Derian’s chest, flicking open the top
button of her shirt to kiss the hollow of her throat. “You, now, you’re
definitely Star Wars.
Speed and derring-do, a raider in the sky.”
Derian laughed and walked Emily over to the
sofa. “Do you have anything on the stove?”
“Not yet, I was still chopping—” Emily gave a
little squeak when Derian dumped her onto the couch and then lost her voice
when Derian stretched out over her. Somehow they managed to wrap themselves
around each other on the narrow space and then Derian was kissing her and Emily
was grabbing on to every part of her, desperate to touch every inch, to pull
her inside, as deep inside her as she could.