“Don’t you?” Aud sighed wearily. “All right, then. We’ll save that for another time.”

“Actually, I did want to ask you about her.” Derian went back to eating, carefully and casually asking, “Explain to me about this whole visa situation and why all of a sudden it’s a problem.”

“How much do you know?”

“Start at the beginning—small words.” She listened carefully as she sipped her wine, her appetite waning as Aud described the miasma of agencies, quotas, applications, approvals, and vicissitudes of the immigration process. In the end she wondered how anyone ever made their way through the system. “So what’s the procedure to straighten all this out?”

Aud shrugged. “We file the papers, the applications, and the justifications, and hopefully everything will go through as it has in the past.”

“Assuming Martin doesn’t get his way and start cutting staff and reorganizing the agency.”

“Admittedly, Emily’s status isn’t as…secure as it might be.”

“Is there any way to secure her status for the long term?” Derian filled Aud’s glass and her own.

“Well, ideally, she would become a permanent resident, which is another long and less-than-certain process. But even that wouldn’t put her in line for taking over the agency, despite what Henrietta wants. You know the unwritten word—family first.”

“Martin doesn’t care about family,” Derian said. “That’s just a smokescreen to manipulate me and everyone else.”

“Not entirely true,” Aud argued. “Part of the strength of Winfield Enterprises is its legacy of being family run. If you really mean what you say about staying, then you should be Henrietta’s permanent successor.”

“I don’t want the job permanently.” Derian considered all the permutations Aud had just told her. “Emily needs her green card.”

“That would solve a lot of problems, yes.”

“Well, then there is a solution. She needs to get married.”

“That’s the best solution.” Aud laughed. “But probably not a timely one, unless you plan on marrying her yourself.”

Derian smiled and sipped her wine.

Aud stared. “You can’t be serious.”

“It would certainly solve all the issues at one time—for everyone. She’d be established here in the country, and she’d be family, so she could take over from Henrietta.”

“Really, Derian. That’s crazy.”

“Why? It’s not illegal, and she’s already proven she deserves the position.”

“What about the small issue of the marriage being a sham?”

“Lots of people get married for lots of reasons, and this is as good as any.” Thinking of her parents, she grimaced. “Better than many.”

“What about the small matter of love?”

Derian went very still inside, the kind of icy calm she always experienced in moments of highest risk. “Emily’s career is her main focus, and you know what the circuit is like. I’d be away frequently. We’d have a very compatible relationship.”

“If I really thought you were serious, I’d try to stop you.” Aud shook her head. “But even you can’t be that crazy.”

Derian didn’t argue. Aud wasn’t the one she needed to convince of her seriousness.

Chapter Twenty-one

The downstairs buzzer rang at 6:30 a.m. Someone had buzzed her apartment by mistake. Emily debated ignoring it, but almost immediately changed her mind. Maybe it was an early-morning delivery of some kind. She pressed the intercom button beside the door. “Yes?”

“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.

“This thing we’re going to,” Derian said, hearing the huskiness in her voice, “how important is it?”

Emily paused in the process of pouring steaming water into her teapot and shrugged. “The BEA? For us, it’s like the biggest race on the Grand Prix circuit.”

Derian frowned. “Really.”

“Really.” Emily carried the robin’s-egg blue teapot, cups, and matching sandwich plates to the table on a hand-painted tray picturing a weeping willow beside a sparkling waterfall and set it down. “Why?”

Derian caught Emily’s hand, pulled her onto her lap, and nuzzled her neck. “So it would be a bad thing if we blew it off.”

Emily stiffened for an instant, surprise giving way to a swift surge of desire. She’d already wrapped her arms around Derian’s neck before she realized what she was doing. And by then she didn’t care to consider anything but the urge for Derian’s mouth on her skin. She tilted her head to give her throat, stroking Derian’s nape as she thrust her fingers into her hair, wanting nothing more than for Derian to continue her slow course of kisses down her neck, for Derian’s hands to slide under her T-shirt and over her bare belly and breasts. God, she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Derian. We have to go to the meeting.”

“Uh-huh.” Derian pressed her cheek to the creamy, soft skin of Emily’s chest and wrapped her arms around Emily’s waist, closing her eyes and breathing her in. “How late can we be?”

“We have appointments first thing.”

Derian rubbed her cheek over the swell of Emily’s breast. “Every other second—no, every second—I think about being with you, like this, of kissing you slowly, everywhere, and undressing you, filling my hands with you.”

“No one has ever said anything like that to me before,” Emily said with a sigh. She cradled Derian’s cheek and raised Derian’s head from her breast. Dark, enticing shadows swam in Derian’s eyes, beckoning her, promising her pleasure and discovery. Emily kissed her, craving the taste of her, yearning for the heat she knew would flood her. Derian groaned deep in her chest, a primal, possessive sound Emily loved. She loved the power she had to make Derian hunger as she hungered. Desire flared, pulled from deep inside where some ancient, primitive voice echoed yes. Yes and yes and yes. Distantly, her mind reverberated with no, no, no, but her mind was no match for the sensations swirling through her. The excitement, the wonder, the aching clawing need. “Oh God. We have to stop, but you feel so good.”

“Kiss me again,” Derian whispered, words she’d never said in her life. She slid a hand beneath the back of Emily’s tank, smoothing her fingers up and down the faint ridge of her spine, molding Emily’s body closer to hers. She could feel Emily’s breasts, soft and full, pressing into her chest and slipped her hand around to cup the warm yielding curve of her. Instantly, Emily arched with a small cry of surprise. A lightning spear of desire shot through Derian’s depths and Derian closed her hand without thinking.

“Oh yes.” Emily gasped and pressed her hand over Derian’s, aching need blinding her to everything. The room disappeared, her past fell away, her future was only the want in Derian’s eyes. “That feels so good. You make me feel so good.”

Derian groaned again. “I want more. I need more. I need you naked.”

“I want you too, you must feel it.” Emily shuddered. “Not…now.”

“When?”

“I can’t think. I have to think.”

“Why?” Derian pressed her face to Emily’s breasts, her chest heaving, and the hand around Emily’s breast trembled. “I want you so much.”