“Why did you do that?”
Derian shrugged, looking not the least bit
perturbed by the annoyance in Emily’s tone. “Because I’ve been thinking about
it since I stepped into the shower. And because you have an incredibly
attractive mouth.”
“But I just said—”
“I know,” Derian said easily. “I heard. But
if it’s all right with you, I’m going to disagree.”
“With what?” Emily folded her arms, watching
Derian light candles at each end of a dining table set into an alcove with
floor-to-ceiling windows and a spectacular view of the park.
“The purely professional part. I’m good with
friendly, though.” Derian tapped a console on the wall and quiet strains of
music filled the room.
Feeling began to return to Emily’s hands and
feet. She hadn’t realized she couldn’t feel them until then. She concentrated
on keeping her voice steady. “I should go.”
“We’re having dinner, remember?” Derian
smiled. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Emily sighed. “You didn’t. I’m not offended
by a beautiful woman kissing me.”
Derian’s smile turned to surprise. “Thank
you.”
“Surely you’ve heard that before,” Emily
said, echoing Derian earlier.
“Not when I actually believed it.” Derian
shook her head, as if chasing away an unwanted thought. “I called the hospital
while I was getting dressed. No change.”
“I guess that’s good.” Emily was glad for the
abrupt shift in subject. Jousting with Derian over the subject of kisses and
dates was far too dangerous.
“I think so.” Derian gestured to the table.
“I also called Ralph. Dinner should be here momentarily. I did promise you no
more than a forty-five-minute wait.”
“I thought we were going out.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.” Derian
pulled out a chair, held it as she watched Emily. “I thought this might be
quieter and more relaxing. Do you mind?”
“It’s really not necessary. I can grab a
cab—”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Stay, Emily,” Derian said softly. “Please.”
Emily sat.
Chapter Eight
“Thanks, Peter,” Derian said to the porter who
delivered the large food trolley covered with gleaming stainless-steel chafing
dishes. “I’ll take it from here.”
His face registered the slightest surprise
before he quickly nodded. “I’m happy to serve you and your guest, Ms.
Winfield.”
“I can handle it, but thanks.” Derian stepped
aside so Peter could slide the cart into the room and closed the door behind
him. She didn’t want company. She wanted to be alone with Emily May, and
setting up the table would give her a few moments to get her game in order. She
hadn’t intended to kiss her. The thought had crossed her mind, that was true.
She’d wanted to kiss her from the moment she’d found her nearly asleep, waiting
for her outside the intensive care unit. Emily had looked vulnerable and
delicate, but Derian’d known better than to think she needed rescuing. She’d
seen Emily’s strength as well as the shadows of some past pain when she’d stood
by Henrietta’s bedside and declared her certainty that Henrietta would be all
right. Daring the Fates to disagree. Emily was anything but fragile, which made
her all the more desirable.