Derian released Emily’s hand and lifted the teacup, cradling the small beautiful object of art in her palm. “Staying in the first place might have been more impressive.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with searching out the life you want,” Emily said. “I take it you left because that wasn’t here.”

“I don’t know,” Derian said. “I’m afraid I was too angry to ask myself if there was anything here I wanted.”

“Well,” Emily said softly, “you’re here now.”

“Yes,” Derian said, savoring the delicate beauty of the woman across from her. “I am here now.”

Suddenly self-conscious and afraid her enjoyment of Derian’s attention would be far too obvious, Emily rose to clear the table. “Why don’t you pour the rest of the wine, and I’ll meet you in the living room in just a minute.”

Derian rose with her. “Let me help you.”

“Absolutely not.” Emily gave Derian’s shoulder a playful shove, appreciating the play of muscles beneath her fingers. “Guest, remember?”

“If you insist.” Derian filled the glasses, set them on a coffee table opposite an ornate white marble fireplace with a broad mantel bearing filigreed candlesticks at either end, and settled into a comfortable floral-patterned overstuffed sofa.

Less than a minute later when Emily sat down, her scent, light and spicy as a fragrant tea, teased at Derian’s senses. A different kind of hunger emerged, sharp and demanding. “Thank you for dinner. It was one of the most enjoyable meals I’ve had in a very long time.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“The food was delicious,” Derian said, placing her wineglass carefully back on the table. She slid closer until the outside of her thigh touched Emily’s. When Emily didn’t draw away, but just looked at her with the question in her eyes, Derian framed her face with both hands. “But it was the company that made it so special.”

This time when she kissed her, it wasn’t fleeting, and she didn’t ask permission. She didn’t wait to be invited. She’d wanted to kiss her since she’d walked in the door, and pretending otherwise was fruitless and self-deluding. Emily’s mouth was soft and sweet and delectable as the finest wine. When Emily made a small surprised sound of pleasure, Derian’s heart leapt into her throat. A surge of want so powerful her thighs tightened shot through her. She slid her hand around to Emily’s nape, soft hair gliding over the top of her hand, and drew her closer until their bodies touched. Emily’s breasts pressed into her, firm and compelling.

Emily nibbled at her lip and Derian groaned, fingers tightening. She slid deeper, exploring the heat and soft secrets of Emily’s mouth. Emily slid both arms around her shoulders, stroked her back, explored in a way Derian hadn’t expected. Hands probed her muscles, traced the ridge of her spine, caressing and delighting her, inflaming her. Derian pressed closer and Emily leaned back against the pillows, half reclining. Derian braced herself on an arm over Emily, wanting to cover her, wanting to consume her with such urgency she had to struggle to be gentle. She kissed the corner of Emily’s full, yielding mouth, the angle of her jaw, her long graceful neck, the hollow of her throat. Unable to stop, she unbuttoned the uppermost button of Emily’s shirt and kissed the soft triangle between her breasts.

“God, I want you.” Her voice was hoarse, an unfamiliar desperation cutting through it.

“Derian,” Emily murmured, her voice low and foreign. Her fist tightened in Derian’s hair. “Wait—”

Derian gripped Emily’s shoulders, angled a leg between hers. The touch of Emily’s body sent heat sweeping through her. She searched for another button, her mouth on the curve of Emily’s breast. “Emily. I want to make love to you.”

Emily tugged Derian’s head up and kissed her, catching Derian’s hand before Derian could clasp her breast. “I’m not—I can’t—”

Derian shuddered and gritted her teeth. Taking deep, gasping breaths, she forced her head to clear. As soon as she could manage, she pushed herself up and stared down. “Are you all right?”

Emily didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Of course.”

“You’re very beautiful.” She smiled wryly. “I can’t help wanting you.”

Emily smiled, color flooding her face. “Thank you.”

“I should go.” Summoning all her will, Derian stood, extending her hand to help Emily up. “Thank you for tonight.”

Emily grasped her hand. “Derian, I—”

“No,” Derian said quickly. “You needn’t explain. I won’t apologize this time, though, especially since I very much want to do that again.”

“I enjoyed tonight too,” Emily said. “All of the night.”

“I’m not a patient person,” Derian warned.

“I’m not worried.” Emily walked her to the door. “Good night, Derian.”

Emily didn’t say any of the things Derian expected. She didn’t say she didn’t want to be kissed again. She didn’t say they should keep their relationship professional. She didn’t say no.

For tonight, that was enough.

“Good night, Emily.”

Chapter Seventeen

Still grinning as she reached the street, Derian strode to the corner, double-checked the street signs, and texted Uber for a pickup. She typed in her destination and waited. The new service made getting around so much easier. She didn’t have to think about which direction she needed to walk to get a cab or explain to a driver where she needed to go, a sometimes challenging feat when so many cabbies needed help with directions. When she traveled and didn’t have a driver of her own, she’d found getting around even in the cities she knew difficult, despite all the tricks she’d learned over the years to defeat her directional dyslexia. She leaned against a lamppost, feeling the smile fill her. Emily had definitely kissed her back. There’d be another time, another kiss. She wanted it, and she wasn’t going to waste time asking herself why. The answer was simple. Kissing Emily was exceedingly pleasant.

When their lips touched, her body came to life, her senses pulsing with forgotten hunger. Emily’s hands moving over her, the soft sounds she made in her throat, the invitation in her body when they pressed close was nothing she hadn’t felt before, and absolutely unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Oh yeah, there would be another kiss.

A black SUV emerged from traffic and pulled over in front of her. She climbed in and gave her address. When she got back to the apartment, she poured a glass of port and carried it into the bedroom. It wasn’t that late, but she was tired and knew she’d sleep. After undressing, she slipped into bed in the dark. Her mind was at last blessedly quiet and oddly content. She set the glass aside, pulled up Emily’s number, and hit send.

“Hello?” Emily said softly on the second ring.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I was just…”

“Just?”

Emily laughed, a bright, self-conscious laugh. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Funny,” Derian said, “I was just doing the same thing.”

“Were you.”

“I was thinking about kissing you again.”

Emily was silent.

“Were you thinking about that too?”

“Derian? What are we do—”

“It’s safe enough. You’re there and I’m here, right?” Derian laughed. “And really, as much as I feel like I’m in high school right now, I’m not trying to talk you into phone sex.”

“Really? High school and phone sex?” Emily exploded with laughter.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never—”

“Absolutely not. I’m not telling you my deep, darkest secrets.”

Derian smiled. “All right, then I’ll go first. Janie Mankiewicz.”

“Your first girlfriend?”

“Tennis instructor,” Derian said. “Ten years my senior, making her the older woman. Also married, and very bored.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen when we had the sexy phone conversations. We never did get much beyond that.”

“All right,” Emily said, “you’ve got my attention. Who started it?”

Derian laughed. “Well, in hindsight, I think she might’ve flirted a little bit at first, but I was too busy thinking about how good her breas—”

“I think I get it,” Emily said archly, a laugh undercutting her mock criticism.

“Let’s say it was mutual.”

“Fair enough. So which one of you mutually instigated this scintillating conversation?”

“Hmm…Yeah, that would be a good word for it.”

“Derian,” Emily said warningly, “you’re stalling.”

“Not at all! I’m building suspense.”

“Consider me suspended.”

“You have an interesting way with words,” Derian teased. “What are you wearing?”

“None of your business.”

“Okay, I’ll just make it up—let’s see, a black lacy—”

“A peach tank top and…plain, boring…underthings.”

“Underthings? Somehow I thought you were in bed.”

“I am.”

“Then why—”

“The tennis instructor?”

“Oh, right, Janie.” Picturing Emily in a flimsy tank and panties was a lot more interesting. Her throat was suddenly dry and she wished for some more port. “So, after one particularly hot, sweaty afternoon, I came up with some excuse to call her after I’d gotten home and showered. Somehow, I managed to mention I’d just done that.”

“And?”

“She said something about it being too hot to wear clothes and maybe I mentioned that I wasn’t, and you know…descriptions were involved.”

Emily’s voice caught. “I can imagine that might have been…interesting.”

Derian skimmed her fingertips down her stomach. The memory of Janie and what had been so exciting at the time was now merely an amusing memory. Emily’s voice, though, filled her with slow, simmering pleasure. “If you’d like, I could fill you in on what I’m—”

“I’ve seen you, remember?”

“Oh.” Derian chuckled. “In the hall. I’d forgotten.”