A Matter of Trust (15 page)

“Who is she?” Michael asked before she could stop herself.

“I don’t know her.” Sarah had been wondering the same thing herself. She hadn’t seen Sloan with a lover in a lot of years, but there hadn’t been anything in Sloan’s face that looked like love to her. Raising an inquiring eyebrow in Jasmine’s direction, she ventured, “An ex?”

Jasmine shrugged delicately. “I suppose you could say that. Claudia seems to think she is more of an
ex
than is probably warranted, but Sloan has that effect on her dates. One night and they want to marry her.” She pushed back from the table and stood with a sigh. The festive atmosphere had definitely dissipated. “I think it’s time for me to toddle off. I’ll send Jason out in a while.”

Sarah watched her go, then asked Michael, “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” Michael said a little too quickly. “Just curious.”

“Mmm. Sloan does have a tendency to make one wonder.” She studied Michael for a moment, trying to read behind the ice blue gaze. “You know, she’s not nearly the Lothario people would make her out to be. It’s true that I haven’t been close to her these last few years, but I knew her very well when she was younger, and people don’t change all that much. She may avoid commitments, but she has a good reason for it.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Michael wondered what Sarah was trying to tell her, and why. What J. T. Sloan did with the women in her life was no concern of hers. Despite the fact that she enjoyed Sloan’s company and thought that the feeling was mutual, she harbored no illusion that there was anything else possible between them. She had a company to save and a marriage to dissolve. The last thing she needed was a sexual identity crisis and an involvement with a woman who obviously didn’t care to be involved with anyone.

She sighed and began to gather her things. “I’m going to get a cab. Say goodni—”

Sarah grasped her wrist. “Absolutely not! We’ll drive you. I’m sure Jason will be here soon.”

“I don’t think you need me along on your first date with him, Sarah,” Michael said with a laugh. “I’ll be fine.”

“Really,” Sarah protested. “It’s no trouble. And I have a feeling we’ll be calling it an evening, too. Things went pretty well tonight, considering both of them were here. Jason and Jasmine, I mean. But I don’t think I’m going to push my luck. Jason’s clearly not ready for anything else...and frankly, neither am I.”

Michael stopped what she doing, concerned. “Are
you
okay?”

“It’s not as simple as I thought it would be. While I was watching Jasmine and Sloan dancing, I pretty much forgot about Jason. Jasmine is so
real,
you know? I’m not sure how I’d feel alone with her.” Sarah grinned a little shakily. “Or what I’d do with her.”

“My guess is you won’t find that out until you’ve been with Jason first. That is probably the way he’ll feel most comfortable,” Michael said.

Watching Sloan and Jasmine together had fascinated her, too, but her thoughts had all been of Sloan. How she held Jasmine—so sure, so certain. Their bodies had fit together so well. For that instant, when she had imagined herself in Sloan’s arms, instead of being strange, the notion had seemed completely natural. She’d never even thought to question it.

Standing abruptly, wanting to dispel any image of herself and Sloan, she stated emphatically, “Say good night to Jason for me, please. I really need to go.”

And then she was gone, leaving Sarah to wonder about the odd expression on her face. Michael had looked bewildered and a little sad.

*

“Claudia. Hey, Claudia,” Sloan called softly, shaking the sleeping woman’s shoulder lightly. “Time to wake up.”

Claudia muttered, snuggled a little deeper into the warm leather seat, and tried to curl up on her side.

“Terrific.” Sloan got out, walked around the front of the car, and opened the passenger side door. She leaned down and slipped an arm behind Claudia’s back. The other she slid under the smaller woman’s knees and swiveled her feet out onto the sidewalk.

“Okay, here we go,” she said, pulling Claudia upright into her arms. “A few steps, a few stairs, and then an elevator...thank God for the elevator. Piece of cake.”

“Where are we?” Claudia asked groggily.

“Your place,” Sloan informed her as she pushed the Up button on the elevator panel.

She guided Claudia into the elevator and released her. When the tipsy woman promptly tilted left and looked about to fall, Sloan grabbed her again and held on. She kept an arm around her waist until they were inside her bedroom.

After easing her down onto the side of the bed, Sloan stepped back a pace and inquired, “You okay?”

Claudia pushed both hands through her hair, blinked up at her, and grimaced. “More or less. I really conked out in the car, and I’m still fuzzy. What time is it?”

Sloan glanced at the bedside clock. “Just after midnight.”

“Thanks for bringing me home.” Claudia’s speech was still a bit slurred, and when she tried standing, she wavered with a sudden surge of dizziness. “Shit.”

Reflexively, Sloan reached to steady her once again. And in the next instant, Claudia was firmly insinuated in her arms with her fingers laced on the back of Sloan’s neck and her lips on Sloan’s mouth. The kiss caught Sloan completely off guard, and by the time it registered, Claudia’s hand had dropped to her thigh and was moving dangerously close to her crotch.

“Mmph.” Sloan withdrew, grabbing for Claudia’s wrist at the same time. “Cut it out.”

Claudia bit the side of Sloan’s neck, harder than she might have if she had been totally aware of what she was doing.

“Son of a bitch, Claudia. That’s enough.” Sloan would have thrown her off but Claudia would probably fall, in her present condition.

“Don’t lie and say it doesn’t feel good,” Claudia breathed against Sloan’s neck, pushing her hand a little higher up Sloan’s thigh.

It
did
feel good, but that was hardly the point. She wasn’t in the habit of having sex with intoxicated women even when she
did
want to sleep with them. And despite the fact that the fingers insistently stroking between her legs were doing an excellent job of making her throb, she did not want to sleep with Claudia Carson.

“Okay. You’re obviously capable of taking care of yourself,” Sloan gasped, pushing Claudia gently but firmly back down on the bed. “I’m out of here.” On somewhat shaky legs, she started for the bedroom door. Her body was in a state of rebellion that she valiantly ignored.

“You don’t actually think that that blond is going to give you what you need, do you?” Claudia called angrily.

Sloan didn’t reply. They both knew the answer to that question. She let herself quietly out of the apartment, rode the elevator down, and walked slowly to her car. She slid behind the wheel, leaned back, and shut her eyes. When her head stopped pounding and the ache in her stomach began to subside, she reached for her cell phone.

*

Michael tied the pale gray robe around her waist as she hurried toward the door. She peered through the peephole, stared for a second, then pulled the door wide.

“I’m sorry it’s so late,” Sloan began, shrugging slightly as if she wasn’t certain herself why she was there. And she wasn’t, exactly. All she knew was that she couldn’t go home without seeing Michael. “I called Sarah, and she said you hadn’t left with them—”

“I took a cab,” Michael interrupted.

Sloan sighed. “I’m sorry...”

“You said that.” Michael reached out and tugged on Sloan’s sleeve, a soft smile on her face. “Come in out of the hall.”

Sloan followed, then stood in the elegant, impersonal hotel suite, looking around like she had no idea where she was. She pushed a hand through her hair, leaving the dark waves tousled. “Hell, I don’t even know why I came.” She looked at Michael, who was watching her with quiet patience. “Are you angry?”

“Why should I be?” Michael asked, unprepared for the question.
Should I be? Do I even have any right to be?

She’d been restless and unable to concentrate when she’d returned to the hotel. She hadn’t even been able to work, which was so rare as to be unheard of. Was it anger that had left her tossing fretfully while sleep eluded her?

She walked toward the sofa, one of two that faced a large glass coffee table centered on a plush oriental rug, while she considered the question. She sat at one end, drawing her legs up under her, pulling the hem of the robe down to mid-calf, and motioned for Sloan to join her.

“Sit down, please.”

Sloan slumped into the deep cushions, leaned her head against the back, and turned her face to study Michael. She hadn’t known she was going to ask that, but now the answer seemed to matter a great deal. “Well?”

“No, I’m not angry.” Michael chose her words carefully as she sorted through the odd assortment of emotions the night had inspired. “I was disappointed at first. I was enjoying the evening so much, and I missed you when you left.”

As she spoke the words, she realized how true they were. When Sloan walked away, the enchanted had became ordinary again. The sparkling lights had lost their shimmer and the hint of magic in the air grew faint. She laughed shakily at her foolishness. “But that wasn’t your fault.”

“It
was
my fault,” Sloan disagreed. “But I needed to take Claudia home. She was a little too impaired to maneuver safely.”

“Really?” Michael commented dryly, arching a brow. “She couldn’t have been
too
impaired. She managed to bite your neck.”

“Christ.” Sloan sat bolt upright, a hand to her neck where she felt a slight sting. “Would you believe that there is a totally innocent explanation?”

Michael’s face was absolutely expressionless. “No explanation is required.”

She refrained from mentioning the lipstick on the collar of Sloan’s shirt or the rumpled state of her clothes.
It is none of your business.
Searching for calm, she stood and smoothed the robe about her hips, fidgeting with the sash for a moment.

At that, Sloan stood, too, only inches away. “Look, Michael, I’m sorr—”

“And no apology is necessary either,” Michael continued firmly, looking into Sloan’s eyes, thinking her impossibly attractive as she stood there waiting to be damned or absolved. “I got home fine. I wasn’t your date
or
your responsibility. Please don’t worry about it.”

“I know I don’t
have
to explain. I
want
to,” Sloan insisted, her voice dark and intense.

She rested her hands on Michael’s arms, bending just a bit to catch her glance, very aware of the slight tremor in Michael’s body. It suddenly felt very important that Michael understand nothing had happened between her and Claudia. Those brilliant blue eyes answered hers with a faint expression of uncertainty, and with something that might have been desire.

“Oh, hell,” Sloan muttered, leaning closer still, her vision tunneling to encompass only pale skin and full moist lips. Those lips parted in surprise, or perhaps welcome, and then Sloan was kissing her.

It was amazing how something so familiar could be so new. Michael’s lips were without a doubt the softest she had ever touched—and the warmest, and the sweetest—and she could smell her, fresh from a shower and misted with spring promises.

Ohjesusgod...
Sloan was lost, senses on overload. Michael’s body, covered only by the technicality of the supple thin silk, was molten under her hands, flowing hot to her touch. Somebody groaned. Sloan thought dimly it might have been herself. There were fingers in her hair, pulling lightly, sending currents of excitement directly between her legs. She wavered a bit on her feet, bombarded by sensation, desperate for more of her. Finally, she edged Michael back toward the sofa.

And then what?
An irritated voice inquired from somewhere deep in her unconscious.
You gonna lay her down on the couch in some hotel room and lift her skirt? Nice, Sloan. Very nice.

Sloan wrenched her lips from Michael’s, a task so difficult it left her weak. Michael’s eyes were nearly closed, her mouth swollen with kisses, her breasts rising and falling rapidly against Sloan’s chest. Their legs were entwined, and Sloan felt an answering heat against her thigh as the woman in her arms moved sensuously against her. Rhythmically smoothing her palms over the rich fullness of Michael’s buttocks, she ached to be on top of her, inside of her. She was fully aroused and pulsating, painfully hard, ready to burst, and she...could...not...do...this.

“Michael,” Sloan gasped, willing her fingers not to stray inside the partially opened robe. The crescent of exposed breast nearly shredded the last remnants of her control.

“Shh,” Michael crooned, leaning harder into Sloan until there was nothing between them but old fears and secret desires. She wanted Sloan to kiss her again.
What a remarkable, glorious kiss that was.
It was the only time in her life when she had been totally without thought. She had known absolutely nothing but the incredible freedom and utter certainty of being in Sloan’s embrace. It was a place she never wanted to leave. “Just do that again,” she whispered.

Sloan continued to hold her, but she did not lower her head for the desired kiss. Looking at Michael, she saw her undisguised hunger and understood in that instant how completely without pretense or guile Michael was. If innocence existed anywhere, it was in Michael’s simple request.