Emily wasn’t about to confess that she often
followed celebrity news, mostly for entertainment and relaxation to break the
rigors of the concentrated work of screening manuscripts and studying
production layouts. Whenever Derian Winfield was mentioned, usually accompanied
by a photo of her with a race car or some glamorous woman, she took note. She’d
always thought Henrietta’s niece was attractive, but the glossy photos hadn’t
captured the shadows that swirled in the depths of her eyes or the sadness that
undercut the sharp edges of her words. “Perhaps Henrietta mentioned it.
Somewhere in Europe, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. Fortunately, I had access to a
plane.” Derian winced and took stock of her appearance. “Although I look somewhat
like a street person at the moment.”
“No,” Emily said with a faint laugh. “You
most certainly do not. You do look tired, though.”
Derian touched a finger beneath Emily’s chin
and tilted her head up. “And you look beyond tired. How long have you been
here?”
Emily stilled, the unfamiliar touch of
Derian’s hand streaking through her with the oddest blaze of heat and light.
She’d never realized tactile sensations could be in Technicolor. “I’ve been
here since Henrietta arrived. I rode in the ambulance. The EMTs were kind
enough to let me.”
Derian frowned. Realizing after an instant
she still cradled Emily’s face, she brushed her thumb gently over the tip of
her chin before drawing away. “Then I’m in your debt. As soon as I’ve seen her,
I’m taking you to get something to eat.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure you’ll
want to get together with your family.”
“No, that would be the last thing I want to
do.” Derian glanced toward the hall in the direction of the intensive care
unit. “The only member of my family I care about is in there.” She glanced back
at Emily. “You and I share that, I think.”
“Henrietta is easy to care about.”
“You see, I told you, you were diplomatic.”
Derian smiled. “Henrietta is a hard-ass, but she knows people. And when she
cares about you, she’s always on your side. If you’ve survived this long with
her, you’re tougher than you look.”
Emily ought to have been insulted, but she
laughed. She didn’t hear criticism in Derian’s voice and imagined there might
actually have been a hint of respect there. “I’ll have you know, I’m plenty
tough.”
“Then you’ll be tough enough to wait until
I’ve seen her. Agreed?”
“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m glad Henrietta has you. She deserves
someone like you at her side.”
Emily found the statement odd and Derian’s
voice surprisingly wistful. All she knew of Henrietta’s niece was that she was
often referred to with raised eyebrows among the agency’s staff and had never
taken any interest in the business. The press made her out to be something of a
reckless, privileged playgirl. But whatever the rumors and innuendo regarding
Derian Winfield might be, she had dropped whatever she’d been doing and flown
halfway around the world to be by Henrietta’s side. And for that, she’d earned
Emily’s respect. Her curious urge to know what had put such pain in Derian’s
faraway gaze and the unexpected heat Derian’s touch ignited were something
altogether different.
Chapter Four
A youngish-looking man with skin the color of
cinnamon, a broad jaw lightly dusted with what looked like a day’s worth of
beard, and a stethoscope slung around his neck appeared in the hall. The
laminated badge clipped to the pocket of his maroon scrubs had a big MD in one corner. He
glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand. “Is there anyone here with
Henrietta Winfield?”
Derian shot to her feet. “We are.”
The doctor came forward and held out his
hand. “I’m Jim Burns, one of the ICU residents.”
“Derian Winfield, Henrietta’s niece.” Derian
gestured to Emily. “This is my…sister, Emily.”
Burns gave a perfunctory nod. “This is the
first chance I’ve had to speak with anyone from the family. I apologize that
you’ve been waiting so long.”
“I understand,” Derian said tightly. So
Martin hadn’t bothered to ask about Henrietta’s condition. Probably hadn’t even
visited her. She wondered why he’d come at all, but then, he’d want to see for
himself she was incapacitated so he could plan his next campaign to force
Henrietta out of the business. Tamping down the familiar surge of rage whenever
Martin came to mind, she concentrated on what really mattered. “Can you tell us
how she’s doing?”
