"You were wondering if I'd been tested to see if I fit the bill," Sabrina finished for her. "The answer is yes, I have been tested. We don't have conclusive results yet. The process is complicated, and may take up to a month to complete. But when those results are in and when I have more current information on Carson's kidney prognosis, I'll share the outcome with all of you. In return, I ask that you pass as little as possible on to the press, ou
t of respect for Carson's privacy. Is that fair enough?"
A uniform nod and a murmur of yeses ran through the room.
"Thank you. I'm sure we'd all like to go home and get some rest. This has been quite a day—for all of us. I'll be at my desk bright and early tomorrow morning, ready and eager to assume my new responsibilities. I appreciate all of you taking the time to be here to share in this announcement."
Sabrina was aware of the applause, but she was so light-headed that she wondered if she'd embarrass herself by fainting on her way down from the head of the table. She walked slowly, methodically, stepping into a swarm of people who had no more desire to let her go home to rest than they had to dance naked in the streets.
She was screwed. She'd be here for hours.
As if on cue, Dylan made his way through the crowd, planted himself in Sabrina's path. "Excuse me, Sabrina, but I need you to sign some legal papers before you head out. I don't mean to keep you, but I've got to get the documents over to Carson tonight."
"All right. Fine." She wanted to weep with gratitude as he pressed a firm palm against the small of her back and practically shoved her out of the room.
In the hall, he took her arm, led her down the corridor and toward his office.
Sabrina blinked in surprise when she saw Detectives Whitman and Barton standing outside Dylan's door. She hadn't seen them leave the conference room.
"Your limo's parked outside, right near Fifth," Whitman informed Sabrina. "The press is gathered around it like a bunch of hornets. Go out of the building, veer toward Sixth, and head over to the park. We have a squad car there that'll get you to Mr. Newport's apartment intact."
"Thank you so much," Sabrina breathed.
"Don't thank us. It was your father's idea." Barton folded his arms across his chest. "A pretty good one, though, judging from what's going on. Congratulations, by the way."
Sabrina didn't have time to answer. Dylan was already dragging her toward the elevator.
The next few minutes were a blur. The elevator down to the second floor. The stairs the rest of the way down, letting them out on the far side of the lobby. Veering outside. Getting swallowed up in rush-hour pedestrian traffic. Central Park. The welcome sight of a NYPD squad car.
Manhattan traffic had never looked so good.
An unknown time later, they turned onto West 76th Street, stopping in front of Dylan's apartment. He tugged her out of the squad car, unlocked his front door, and pulled her inside.
"Come on." He led her into the living room, eased her down on the sofa, and poured her a glass of wine. While she was sipping it, he went into the kitchen, emerging with a tray of crackers and cheese. "Eat," he ordered, putting the tray down in front of her.
Sabrina gave him a wan smile. "My hero." She gobbled up five or six crackers and brie, then drank a little more wine before setting her goblet on the table and sitting back with a sigh. "I'm not sure, but I think you just saved my life."
Dylan sat down beside her. "You scared the shit out of me. You looked like a ghost when you walked away from that conference table." He slid a hand beneath her hair, rubbed her neck gently. "Sabrina, you're not a superhero. You're human. Give yourself a break."
She acted on impulse, on adrenaline, on sheer gut instinct.
"Whatever you say." She scrambled to her knees and scooted closer, tugging at his tie even as she leaned up to kiss him. "You're right. I need a break. I feel like I'm about to shatter. And I need you to help me do that." She traced his lower lip with her tongue. "Make love to me."
No second invitation was necessary.
Dylan made a harsh sound, capturing her head between his hands as her lips brushed his. He took over the kiss without preliminaries, his mouth ravaging hers with three days of pent-up sexual hunger combined with the emotional overload of the past few hours. They didn't make it upstairs.
They yanked at each other's clothes, unable to get at each other fast enough. Buttons popped, fabric ripped, and still it seemed to take forever for them to be naked, to feel skin against skin.
Dylan couldn't stand it anymore, and he tore himself away from her, kicking free of the last of his clothes and leaning over her, putting one knee on the sofa and tearing her panties in two, tossing the shreds of silk aside.
"I've got to get inside you," he muttered, kissing his way down her body, making her moan and writhe as he did.
The sofa, wide and cushy or not, was too narrow to accommodate their frantic motions. Dylan solved the problem by flinging some cushions on the floor, and tumbling Sabrina onto them. "Okay?" he managed, poised over her.
"Yes... yes... just hurry." Sabrina was in no mood for slow and seductive. She needed Dylan and she needed him now.
Judging from the smoldering look in his eyes, she wasn't alone.