The Color of Love

Chapter Nineteen

Wide-eyed and breathless, Ron burst into Emily’s office, caught the door just before it slammed in his haste to close it, and skidded to a halt. “She’s here!”

Emily set aside her iPad and stared at him. “Who’s here?”

He canted his head in the direction of Henrietta’s corner office. “Derian Winfield.”

“Derian?” Emily shot to her feet. “Here?”

“In the flesh.” Ron eyed her suspiciously. “I think you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“No, I haven’t.” Feeling her blush deepen, Emily sat slowly and hoped her excitement wasn’t evident. Never had she had such a spontaneous thrill just from hearing someone’s name. “I had no idea she was coming.”

That was certainly an understatement. The last time they’d talked, Derian hadn’t said anything about visiting the agency, but then, why would Emily expect her to? They were becoming friends, at least she felt that way, but hardly intimates, and Derian had no reason to discuss business matters with her. Derian was a Winfield, after all, and as much as she resisted accepting the role of heir apparent, that’s what she was. For an instant, Emily felt a twinge of hurt, and then brushed it impatiently aside. Business was business, and if Derian was here, that was certainly none of her concern. What mattered was the agency.

“She is Henrietta’s niece, after all,” Emily said offhandedly, “so it shouldn’t be a surprise she’s here.”

“That’s not what you said a few days ago. No interest in the business, I think you said. Plus, why do you look as if it’s Christmas morning, and you’ve got a big present under the tree?”

“I do not.”

“With a giant red bow and—”

“Stop it.” Emily had to laugh.

Ron pulled a chair closer to her desk, plopped into it, and settled in for what looked like a long campaign. “It’s time for you to spill it, honey.”

“There’s absolutely nothing—”

He wagged a finger. “When just the thought of someone makes your eyes light up the way yours just did, you are honor bound to have to tell your friends.”

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. God, I want you. Emily’s breathing kicked up again, her blood racing. Hopefully Ron couldn’t tell. “I think she’s interested also.”

“Wow.” Ron looked suddenly serious, an unusual expression for him. She’d learned over the years his approach to dealing with almost everything in life was with humor liberally laced with sarcasm. “That’s kind of serious. Derian Winfield isn’t exactly known for serious.”

“If you mean she has a reputation for being a player, I know that,” Emily said. “But she’s not the person the media makes her out to be. She’s kind and generous and sensitive.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“You’ve got a thing for her. I mean, beyond the she’s hot kind of thing.”

Emily made an exasperated sound. “Just because I happen to like someone, and find them attractive, and…” She caught her breath as she heard herself denying again. That wasn’t her. “Actually, you’re right. I have a big thing for her. She’s gorgeous and sexy and pretty much wonderful.”

“Well,” Ron said with finality, “then I think you should drag her off somewhere and have your way with her. Because I’ve never heard you say that about anyone before, and opportunity doesn’t usually knock twice.”

“You know, Ron, everything isn’t about sex.”

“Of course it is, when everything is said and done. Okay sure, maybe you won’t have sex with your best friend, but when you start thinking about your best friend as being attractive and gorgeous and wonderful and sexy, they’re not your best friend anymore. They’re something else altogether. And, opposite side of the coin, you know, someone doesn’t have to be your best friend to have really hot, satisfying sex with them.”

“I don’t think of her as my best friend,” Emily said. “Actually, I think of you as my best friend and I’ve never wanted to have sex—”

“Okay, let’s not go there,” Ron said, grinning.

“If she’s here, Ron,” Emily said, decidedly not going to discuss sex with Derian with anyone, “it might not mean anything at all. She’s never been interested in the business. It’s possible she just came on an errand for Henrietta.”

“You think you can find out?”

“I’m not going to use my relationship with her to get insider information. If she’s here for anything other than a brief visit, I’m sure we’ll all find out at the same time.”

“You know, sometimes you’re absolutely no fun.”

“You might be right.” Emily grinned. “But sometimes, I am.”

“Well I know one thing,” Ron said, rising and starting for the door. “Things would be a hell of a lot better around here if she stayed.”

He slipped out the door and Emily leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Derian couldn’t be planning to get involved at the agency, could she? As much as she wanted to see Donatella dethroned, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to see Derian in Henrietta’s place. If she and Derian had to work together, she wasn’t sure their personal relationship could go any further. For the first time in her life, her professional goals ran smack up against her personal ones. She’d never had to choose between her goals and her desires, and she wasn’t sure what she would do if she had to.

*

“Hi, Vonnie darlin’.” Derian swung around Vonnie’s desk and kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful as always.”

Vonnie jumped up and gave Derian a quick hug. In a low voice, she said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How have you been? Still my favorite bad girl?”

“So I’m told.”

“No, really,” Vonnie said gently. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

“I’ve been doing okay,” Derian said, stretching the truth a bit. With each passing day she wondered if she’d been doing anything more than killing time—or maybe wasting it, along with her life. “A lot better now that Henrietta is on the mend.”

“Don’t I know it?” Vonnie glanced behind her at the closed office doors. “Her getting back here can’t be too soon for me.”

“Donatella hasn’t left yet?”

“Not unless she flew out the window on her broom, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

Derian laughed. “Is everything pretty much under control?”

“We’ve had some concerned calls from clients and publisher reps, worried that Henrietta’s absence will disrupt some of our commitments. Everyone knows Henrietta is the power here.”

“Just tell anyone who asks it’s business as usual and there won’t be any changes.”

“I wish that were the case, but—”

“Don’t worry. Just leave it to me.”

“You know what you’re up against in there?” Vonnie’s brows drew down in worry.

“Hey, I was born for this, remember?” Derian strode to Henrietta’s door, knocked perfunctorily, and let herself in. Donatella hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d seen her, although she appeared thinner, if that was even possible. Her skin was stretched tight over sharp facial bones, her dark hair sculpted to her skull. She wore gold at her throat and her wrists, her black suit severely tailored to her anorectic frame. Her wide mouth tightened, her voice a hiss. “Derian.”

“Hi, Donatella,” Derian said easily, shedding her suit jacket and draping it over a clothes tree. She rolled up her sleeves, scanning the room. Henrietta’s touch was everywhere—floor-to-ceiling glass-fronted bookcases filled with countless books by authors the agency had represented over the past hundred years, the comfortable seating area where Derian could imagine HW or Emily relaxing with a manuscript, the huge desk from which HW steered the agency. “Did Martin call?”

“He did.”

Derian turned and slid her hands into her pockets. “I’ll grab a cup of coffee while you gather up your things.”

“As I’m sure Martin informed you, we have an audit ongoing which will take some time to complete.” If possible, her lips grew even thinner. “Long overdue.”

“The business offices are on the third floor. I’ll make sure someone gives you a space to work. But I’ll be working here.”

“Really, Derian,” Donatella said condescendingly, “how far do you plan to take this charade? You don’t know anything about the business, and even if you did—”

“I’ve already been this route with Martin, and I don’t really have time or the inclination to repeat myself. I plan to run the agency in Henrietta’s absence. If you have an issue with that, you can take it to my father.” She grinned, the kind of grin that said, Go ahead, make my day. “He can take it to the board. I’ll be happy to fight it out there.”

Martin would not want a public schism. He was chairman of the board, but at least half the members were elected by the shareholders, and he would not tolerate any show of weakness to those who might conceivably challenge him in the future. His image was all important, and he would want to appear unassailable. Derian wondered if Martin had any idea his attempts at training her to win in the business world would one day be used against him. She smiled at the thought.

“Your aunt,” Donatella said with a touch of distaste, “has run this business like a charity for far too long. The staff is bloated, half of the clients are marginal producers if that, and the agency’s catalog is hopelessly outdated. Nothing short of a complete overhaul will bring this business into the twenty-first century. Do you really think you’re capable of that?”

Derian held on to her temper. She didn’t mind being insulted, but she wouldn’t stand for Henrietta being criticized when she wasn’t there to defend herself. “You’d be surprised,” she said softly, “at exactly what I’m capable of doing. If you’d like to find out, you can try standing in my way.”

Donatella lost the staring contest and rose with a huffing sound. She gathered papers and pushed them into a large black shoulder bag. “This is a ridiculous, childish maneuver that will only compound the problems at this institution. I expect you’ll discover you’re in well over your head very shortly. Call me when that happens.” Her thin smile blossomed crimson, as if infused with fresh blood. “At that point I think the board will be delighted with anything we suggest, so you’ll be doing us a favor when you fail.”

Derian stepped aside as Donatella stormed out. An unexpected wave of satisfaction rolled through her despite Donatella’s prediction. She hadn’t expected winning a round in business to be as satisfying as pulling down a large take at the tables, but it was. Maybe she’d been missing out on something all this time.

Donatella was right about one thing, though. She didn’t know exactly how to win at this game, and she needed to find out. Henrietta’s legacy and a lot of people’s futures, including Emily’s, depended on her being able to pull this off. She opened the door. “Vonnie?”

Vonnie swiveled in her chair, a pleased expression on her face. “Yes, boss?”

“Derian will do.” Derian chuckled. “Where’s Emily’s office?”

Vonnie’s smile widened and she pointed. “Around the corner and down the hall to your right. First door.”

“Thanks,” Derian said, heading off in the direction Vonnie so kindly indicated for her with a buzz of expectation.