Chapter Ten
Heart pounding, Derian grabbed her phone off the
nightstand before the second ring. “Winfield.”
“Still up before the sun, I see,” Aud said.
“Or have you not been to bed?”
Derian’s breath shot out on a curse. “I
thought it was the hospital.”
“Oh my God.” Aud sounded crushed. “Derian, I
am so sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No, that’s okay.” Derian rubbed her face,
glanced at the time. 5:30 a.m. “I was lying here awake. You’re right about
that.”
“I just thought I’d try to catch you before
the day got away from us. Really, I’m an idiot.”
“No comment, Counselor.”
“Can I make it up to you over breakfast?
That’s actually why I was calling. It’s been a long time.”
“There was Rio,” Derian pointed out.
“Yes, and that was nine months ago. And I
think we had about as much time together then as we had last night. I seem to
remember your attention was on a redhead, or was it the brunette with the
tattoo on her—”
“Breakfast would be good.” Aud had a way of
making her affairs with women seem like they were dalliances with other women, when there
was no us to
consider in the first place. She couldn’t cheat on a best friend, could she?
She didn’t think so, but Aud appeared to disagree. Ordinarily she didn’t mind,
but today she was too beat to find the implied criticism just friendly teasing.
They were both responsible for the distance between them, and her involvement
with other women was not the cause. Hell, Aud hadn’t likely been sitting alone
in her Madison Avenue penthouse pining for company these last five years. “I’ll
meet you. Half an hour?”
“Good. Lindy’s?”
Derian smiled wryly. Aud was determined to
keep the past alive. She couldn’t count the number of breakfasts they’d shared
in the late hours of the night at Lindy’s, when they were young and still best
of friends. “Sure. Why not.”
“I’ll get us a booth.”
Aud disconnected and Derian headed for
another shower. Her head was muzzy and her stomach queasy. Four hours’ sleep
was usually enough to recharge her batteries, but the transatlantic flight, the
stress, and too little real sleep punctuated with restless dreams had her
running on empty. She didn’t often dream, and never dreams like these. Dreams
filled with amorphous faces and a seething sexual unrest that left her agitated
and unsatisfied. She flipped the shower dial to hot, waited for the steam to
rise, and left the lights off in the bathroom, preferring a few more minutes of
dark solitude before the day intruded. The heat brought blood rushing to the
surface of her skin, and as her flesh awakened, the persistent tension between
her thighs accelerated. The drumbeat of insistent desire was not to be denied.
She slid one hand down the slick surface of her abdomen, caught the taut
pulsing heat between her fingers, and squeezed. Her breath caught, her vision
swam, and a spring coiled deep inside. A low moan escaped.