Emily laughed, clearly delighted. “And everyone thinks book people are stodgy. You don’t want to get in the way of someone trying to get an advance copy of their favorite author in this place. You’re likely to get run down.”

“All we need are the hot-dog vendors and the carnival will be complete,” Derian said.

“Oh, they’ll be at the far back of the room. And I like hot dogs, so you can get me one later.”

Derian smiled. “My pleasure.”

And it was. Being with Emily gave her the inexplicable desire to hunt and gather and take care of her. Emily might not need her to do any of those things, but Derian planned on doing whatever she could to be sure Emily’s future was secure.


*


Derian made it to the hospital a few minutes before visiting hours ended, rapped on the partially open door, and walked into Henrietta’s room. HW was the only patient in there and was sitting up in bed with the newspaper spread out on the bedside stand in front of her. Some of her color had returned, but she looked thinner and, for the first time, older. Her fragility sent fear through Derian’s chest. “Sorry it’s so late, but I just wanted to stop by and make sure you weren’t driving the nurses crazy.”

“I’ve been behaving but they still won’t let me have my computer.”

“Good.”

Henrietta set the paper aside. “How did the appointments go?”

“Emily was happy. She seemed to think several of the deals were strong ones.”

“What did you think of the process?”

“It was a lot like a card game, not quite as interesting but—I could see the appeal.”

Henrietta laughed. “You’re right—a good negotiation is always a bit of a game.”

Derian paused, noting an extra IV pole. “Is it my imagination, or is there more equipment in here today than yesterday?”

“Oh, just some extra medication they added.”

“Why?”

“Nothing serious, just a little blood clot. The medicine will take care of it.”

Derian grew very still. “Blood clot? Where?”

“My right leg,” Henrietta said with a huff of disgust. “Apparently it happens when you don’t get up and move around enough. Although how I’m supposed to do that—”

“Okay, I got it.” Derian kept her voice calm. “How come no one called me about it?”

“It’s not like there was anything you needed to do,” Henrietta said. “It was far more important that you take care of business and not be distracted. I’m perfectly capable of making my own medical decisions now.”

“I want to talk to the doctor.” Derian turned to go.

Henrietta caught her arm. “He’s not going to tell you anything that I haven’t already told you. I need a course of anticoagulants—heparin—and then some oral medication after I get home. It’s not a major setback.”

“Are you telling me the whole story?” Henrietta was perfectly capable of downplaying the seriousness of the complication, but going head-to-head with her was not something she wanted to do.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, but I’m still going to talk to him tomorrow.”

“Of course you are,” Henrietta said fondly. “So tell me all about today.”

Derian recounted everything she could remember about the meetings with the foreign rights agents. “Emily is writing everything up for you because she knows you’d want to know. But you have to promise to let us handle it.”

“How is that going? The two of you at the agency?”

“I’m surviving, but I’m pretty much useless.” Derian hadn’t told her about Donatella and didn’t intend to.

“I doubt that. You’re quick when you put your mind to it. And Emily knows what she’s about. The two of you should be able to handle anything.”

“Emily could handle anything without me,” Derian said.

“Everyone needs a sounding board, Derian. And given the circumstances, Emily needs your support.”

“She has it,” Derian said. “And the sooner we get things straightened out, the better.”

“As soon as I’m up and around—”

Derian shook her head. “No deal. You’re not going back to work, HW. Not until the doctors say, and until then, I’m in charge.”

Henrietta’s brows shot up, and the old fire kindled in her eyes. “Really? A coup, is it?”

Derian grinned. “You might think of it that way.”

Henrietta leaned back against the pillows, looking tired, but satisfied. “If I’d known I’d have to have a heart attack to get you into the office, I might have contemplated it previously.”

Derian leaned over and kissed her. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you needed me, I would’ve come.”

Henrietta stroked her cheek. “I know that, and you did come. I’ve always known that too.”

“It’s good to be here.” She never thought she’d say that, but then she never thought she’d want a lot of things she suddenly found she couldn’t stop thinking about. “I should let you get some sleep.”

“Don’t forget you have the National Book Awards coming up,” Henrietta said.

Derian winced. “Yeah. I saw that on the schedule. I don’t suppose—”

“Emily will need company—it’s always easier to network that way.”

“Oh.” Derian thought for a second she saw an amused glint in HW’s eye, but then it was gone. Any excuse for a night out with Emily was fine with her, even a stuffy awards ceremony. “Right. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m sure.” Henrietta laughed. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Emily was dressed and ready to go way too early. To keep from checking her makeup for the tenth time or looking in the mirror again to be sure her dress fell just right and not too low between her breasts, she went to the window to watch for Derian. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel like a high school girl waiting for her prom date, even though she’d never actually gone to the prom. She’d missed those things after the accident. Refusing to allow the past to intrude on a night she’d been anticipating for weeks, she let those memories drift back to where they belonged.

She was dressed to the nines and going out to a gala with a handsome woman, and she intended to enjoy every minute of the evening, even if she was the only one who thought of it like it was a date. Derian undoubtedly thought of the National Book Awards as a necessary evil of her temporary job, but she’d agreed to attend with the same willingness she’d tackled all the other new responsibilities at Winfield’s. She’d settled in remarkably well at the agency, and despite not having any formal training in literature, she had an innate appreciation for what worked and what didn’t. Derian seemed to enjoy their business discussions as much as Emily and had a natural affinity for the production side of the business, being exceptionally good with numbers. Emily laughed to herself. No surprise there.

Helping Derian learn the agency didn’t feel like work at all. She looked forward to every day, with their morning meetings, their after-lunch conferences, and the impromptu moments when Derian would drop by her office to ask her a question or discuss something that had come across her desk. Derian wasn’t trying to replace Henrietta, but she was learning what made Winfield’s tick. Unlike Donatella, Derian appreciated Henrietta’s vision, the heart of it all, and that mattered more than anything.

A black Town Car slid to the curb and Emily’s pulse soared. She was used to that reaction by now, since every time she saw Derian, exhilaration rushed through her. She loved simply looking at her, the way she moved with a graceful, confident stride, the way her brows drew down just a little when she was deep in thought, the lazy way she sometimes watched Emily that made Emily feel incredibly sensual.

Emily had only had a glimpse of her when Derian stepped from the car before she disappeared onto the stairs, but a second was enough to put her heart in her throat. For tonight’s formal event, Derian had chosen a dark suit with a classically tailored jacket and notched lapels, fitted trousers, and a pale gray silk shirt—sleek and elegant, like her.

Feeling only a teeny bit foolish, Emily waited next to the intercom for the buzzer. As soon as it sounded, she said, “I’ll be right down.”

“Let me come up,” Derian said. “I’m your escort, remember?”

Emily laughed. “I think I can manage the stairs.”

“No doubt, but a lady should be handed into her carriage in the proper fashion.”

“All right.” Still laughing, Emily released the inner door and, when the knock sounded, took a deep breath and told herself not to think, just to enjoy the night. She opened her door and Derian’s gaze swept over her.

“You look incredible.” Derian folded Emily’s hand in hers and kissed her knuckles. With her head still bent low, she murmured, “You take my breath away.”

“You make me feel amazing.”

Derian looked up, her eyes glinting. “I’ve been looking forward to this, and you are the reason.”

Smiling self-consciously, Emily grabbed her small clutch from the table by the door and stepped out, closing it behind her. “I happen to know the National Book Awards is not exactly high on your list of events to attend. But I really hope you enjoy it.”

Derian slid her hand behind Emily’s elbow and walked close beside her down the hall. “You’ll be there. How can I not enjoy it?”

“After the twentieth conversation about market trends and predictions of doom for the demise of the entire industry, you might change your mind.”

Derian held the door for her. “Who said I was going to be listening to any of that? I’m an expert at appearing to be interested and nodding at all the appropriate places while contemplating the next race.”

“Your skills will come in handy tonight, then.” Emily firmly told herself not to think about when Derian might be off to the next stop on the endless racing circuit. Henrietta was home from the hospital, but thus far they’d all managed to keep her away from Winfield’s. Derian wasn’t leaving yet, and tonight was just for tonight. She’d think no further.