Martin laughed and leaned back in his high–backed leather chair. “Putting aside the fact you have absolutely no experience, we both know that kind of work would strain your…capabilities.”

“Business is just a sophisticated game,” Derian said, echoing one of Martin’s favorite sayings, “and one thing I’m very, very good at is winning games.”

“So I’m given to understand. Why would you even want to attempt this one?”

“Because that’s what Henrietta wants.” She took a chance, knowing her aunt would never leave any eventuality uncovered. “She’s made sure I have a holding interest in the company. It’s in the paperwork somewhere, and you probably already know that.”

“What I know,” Martin said, an edge creeping into his voice, “is that you haven’t bothered with the business or anything else for years. Henrietta’s return is uncertain, and your pretending to be in charge for a week or two is a foolish exercise.”

“I’ll be here for as long as necessary, and there are plenty of experienced people already present at the agency who know how to do their jobs. Emily May is a senior agent and has worked closely with Henrietta for years. Should I need to consult with anyone, she’ll be available.”

“Emily May’s employment status is uncertain”—he waved a hand—“and given that, the board decided someone with more experience and long-term investment in the enterprise was needed.” He smiled, his lips a thin line. “I’m afraid you and Ms. May have a great deal in common. Neither of you is fit to helm the agency.”

Derian slid her hands into her pockets and strolled to the windows, putting her back to him. His easy dismissal of Emily, as if she was already headed back to Singapore, infuriated her more than his expected ridicule of her own abilities. “I haven’t been very interested in the business, you’re absolutely right. But I find that I suddenly have a new appreciation for Winfield Enterprises. Up until now, I’ve been happy for Aud to represent me at board meetings, but now I find I’d rather do that myself. Of course, it’s possible I might not always be in agreement with your position when it comes time to vote.”

She didn’t have to turn to feel a wave of anger wash over her. She couldn’t block him in a vote, but he wouldn’t be happy if she took a position against him, especially if she sided with other board members who might disagree with some of his plans. He wouldn’t risk that.

“You’ve got a month, if you last that long,” he said. “However, the board has asked for an audit, which will be ongoing. Donatella will oversee that.”

“Just make sure Donatella’s out of my office before I arrive.”

She turned and walked out without bothering to say good-bye.

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?”