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BOOK: A Matter of Trust
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He had already turned back to what he was doing, his face in profile stony with anger. “This has the feel of a malicious infection to me, because it has crippled the system very effectively. This isn’t someone looking to download data—this is someone looking to make the data inaccessible. Maybe permanently.”

“My guess is we’ll eventually find that files were hacked before the network crashed. Then the virus was activated.”

“Pirates?”

“Could be. Could be someone just looking to paralyze the network.”

“If some bastard did this intentionally, I’m going to find out how.”

I’m pretty sure I know who
. Sloan got up and moved close enough to rest a hand lightly on his shoulder. “First things first, Jason. We need to get Michael back to work. She’s got deadlines. Critical ones. Once we can do that safely, we’ll start backtracking and hopefully find out how this started. We’ll do mail searches, checksum the files, scan the TCP/IP logs—whatever it takes.”

“You got it,” he said.

“And, Jason,” she added, “I appreciate your quick response time.”

He turned again to stare at her, surprised. “This is war, Sloan. Someone has taken a shot at our client right in our faces. Besides, I really like Michael. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Sloan smiled just at the mention of Michael’s name, but there was a dark fire simmering in her eyes. “No, she doesn’t. Sorry about ruining your weekend, though. I have a feeling we’ll be spending most of it right here.”

Jason flushed and looked at a point over her left shoulder. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be when I have to break my date with Sarah tonight.” He looked at the wall clock. “In sixteen hours I’m supposed to be on my way to pick her up for dinner at DeCarlo’s.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Sloan chided good-naturedly. “Don’t get me in the middle of that one. Sarah likes nothing better than an excuse to beat up on me, and missing dinner at the best restaurant in town is a pretty good reason.”

He grinned, but he looked uneasy. Then he asked quietly, “You’ve known her a long time, haven’t you?”

Sloan was taken aback by his question. Despite their long association, Jason almost never talked about personal matters other than to reprimand her for what he considered her loose lifestyle. If he was initiating a serious conversation, it must be very important to him. She glanced at her watch, aware of how much they had to do, but he was her friend. She could spare him a few minutes. She sat back down.

“Yes, I’ve known her a very long time. I think she’s the only person in my life, other than you, whom I trust completely.”

Now he was the one who was surprised. Sloan had never before said anything that revealing to him. In fact, she never
said
much of anything to him. He had learned to trust her because she had always treated him with respect and honesty. With Sloan, her actions were usually more revealing than her words.

“I’ve never met anyone like her,” he said softly. “She doesn’t seem the least bit put off by the fact that I’m a...transvestite.”

Sloan raised an eyebrow. “You know, Jason, I’ve never thought of you that way.” It was damn difficult to describe exactly
how
she perceived the two of them—Jason and Jasmine—but she was clear that there
were
two of them. It wasn’t a case of multiple personality disorder, because Jason was clearly aware of Jasmine, and Sloan suspected that Jason could suppress that part of himself if he had to. She couldn’t imagine what it would cost him to do that, though, and hoped that he would never have to do so. Nevertheless, Jasmine certainly had an essence all her own.

“I guess technically
transvestite
is the best word,” Sloan conceded, “but Jasmine is so much more than just an invention of clothing and make-up. She’s another dimension of you—I get that. But sometimes I even forget that she
is
you or you are her...or something.” She finished with a laugh.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried to explain it to myself?” He lifted a shoulder, grinning. “The only time I’ve ever tried to explain it to anyone else, it was a disaster. But you know all about that.” He broke off as if hearing his own bitterness, then said on a softer note, “With Sarah, I don’t really need to explain it. She doesn’t seem to
need
that.”

“So what’s the problem?” Sloan queried.

“I’m afraid she’ll change her mind when she gets to know me better.”

“You mean you’re afraid she’ll change her mind if you let her see how much a part of you Jasmine really is?”

He nodded. “It’s one thing to see Jasmine as a performer a couple of times a month. It would be a lot different if Sarah realized that Jasmine is always around, more or less.”

“Is she?” Sloan realized that she never thought about Jasmine anywhere other than at the Cabaret. She hadn’t imagined that perhaps it was something Jason did even in private. It was personal and not something she could ask him.

Instead, she said, “I think if you and Sarah really get serious, you’re going to have to let her see Jasmine in all those other situations. In fact, maybe it would be a good idea for Jasmine and Sarah to spend some time together outside of the Cabaret.” She thought she could actually see him turn pale. But when he looked at her, there was something like hope in his eyes.

“Do you think that could actually work?”

“I don’t honestly know, but I trust Sarah to deal with whatever comes up.” Sloan stood. “I think you can trust her, too.”

She left him then, because she was anxious to get back to Michael. Even though the work ahead looked daunting, Sloan was grateful for the excuse just to be in the same room with her.

Chapter Twelve

“You need to take a break,” Michael said.

She came up behind the chair where Sloan sat working, glanced at the monitor, and saw nothing that made sense to her. Without thinking, she placed her hands gently on Sloan’s shoulders, rested her thumbs against the back of Sloan’s neck, and, unconsciously, softly kneaded the tense muscles under her fingers.

“Ahh.” Sloan leaned back with a groan, her head just touching Michael’s abdomen. She closed her eyes, very aware of the heat of Michael’s body so near. The touch of Michael’s hands was at once soothing and incredibly exciting, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d have a hard time hiding her arousal. She knew her breathing had already taken a quick leap into hyperdrive, and her hands trembled slightly where they lay on her thighs.

Silently, she instructed herself to remember the job she needed to do, which helped, but her voice was husky as she murmured, “God, that feels criminally good. What time is it?”

“Just about noon. You haven’t been out of that chair in almost nine hours.” Michael looked down at Sloan’s face, savoring the opportunity to study her as she rested, eyes closed and seemingly unaware.

Her face is made for sculpting,
she thought, barely able to resist running her fingers over the dark arch of Sloan’s brow and along the strong angle of her jaw. As she realized that she was enjoying the supple strength of firm shoulder muscles, her fingers strayed to Sloan’s neck, and she felt her stiffen at the touch.
Too much
.
You can’t do this
. She forced herself to step back, dropping her hands to her sides. “You should stop for a bit.”

Sloan rubbed both hands vigorously over her face, straightening up in the chair, ignoring the sudden disappointment at the loss of Michael’s touch. She was getting used to the steady throb of unanswered desire whenever Michael was around. At least now she had something to distract her.

“This is that critical time when everything is about to come together,” said Sloan, weary but starting to feel the excitement that preceded a breakthrough. “It’s not something you can get up and walk away from once you start tracking these things down. Another couple of hours and I think I’ll have a real handle on it. Then I can take a break for a bit.”

“What about something to eat?” Michael asked. “We could hit the diner down the street.”

“Another cup of coffee maybe. Besides, you’ve been working just as hard.”

“Yes, but I napped for an hour.” Michael frowned. She didn’t know what she had thought would happen when Sloan showed up in the middle of the night. She had been too glad to see her, and too worried about disappearing files and critical deadlines. Now she was starting to worry about
her.

“Sloan,” she continued cautiously, “if I miss the deadline, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll manage—”

“Are you kidding?” Sloan swiveled around in the chair, staring up at her in astonishment. “Another ten to twelve hours and we’ll be able to bring you back on-line. Once we flush the little bastard and start cleaning, I can get started on the security changeovers, too.”

Michael looked horrified. “Twelve hours?”

“She’s good for a lot more than that,” a voice announced from across the room.

Both women turned at the sound.

“Heck, I’ve seen her go for days on caffeine and junk food. This is a walk in the park,” Sarah continued, grinning as she crossed the wide office, then stooped to kiss Sloan lightly on the mouth. “Hi, Michael,” she added as she fondly stroked Sloan’s arm.

“And you are here, how?” Sloan inquired with a grin of her own.

“Jason called me. Told me that our much-anticipated dinner and dancing date was off because you and he were in the midst of a crisis. I didn’t want to miss the fun. Michael’s assistant let me in.”

“Some fun,” Michael muttered, feeling as if she were slipping down the rabbit hole. These two actually seemed to find all this amusing.

“And,” Sarah added with a flourish, “I brought bagels and cream cheese and assorted sinful chocolate things that are guaranteed to keep you awake.”

“Oh, what a woman. Give—” Sloan begged. “But bring them here. I have to get back to this.”

“Patience,” Sarah instructed, noting the return of Michael’s worried frown.

As Sarah pulled her away by the arm, Michael gave the back of Sloan’s head one more concerned glance, but she followed Sarah to the sitting area where several bags rested on the coffee table. In a whisper, she said, “She’s been at it since two this morning. Maybe
you
can get her to stop.”

Leaning close, Sarah said, “Give her another hour or so, and then we’ll gang up on her and make her take a nap. I just coerced Jason into stretching out on the couch in that empty conference room down the hall. He looked like his eyeballs were going to fall out. How about you? Get any sleep?” As she talked, she fixed a plate for Sloan.

“Some,” Michael admitted. “I drifted off for a while in here on the sofa. I tried to work on some sketches earlier, but I couldn’t concentrate. I feel so damn useless.”

“I can imagine.” Sarah shrugged sympathetically. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t think they know yet. Fortunately, we’ve been able to cover it up by telling everyone the system is off-line for program updates. But if we’re not up again by Monday morning at the latest, I won’t be able to hide the fact that we have a major system failure. That kind of news is very bad for business.”

“These two know what they’re doing. It’ll be okay. Sloan’s the best.”

Michael watched as Sarah carried the plate to Sloan, who acknowledged her with a mumble and then a blazing smile.
The best?
Yes, she is, isn’t she.

Sarah turned in time to catch the wistful expression on Michael’s face. She’d seen that look before and knew it for precisely what it was. She wondered if Sloan realized that Michael had fallen in love with her. And she wondered, too, if Sloan would have the good sense to accept it.

*

“I feel like such a traitor being outside while they’ve been up there struggling for a day and a half,” Michael said as she took a deep breath of the crisp, clean air. It was midafternoon in early May with the temperatures peaking in the sixties, and everywhere that unique, bright spring sun suffused the day in warm welcome.

“Don’t worry. If it weren’t for times like this, the two of them would be bored to tears. I think both of them miss the fast pace and high drama of Washington.”

They were walking the few blocks to Sarah’s apartment in what was commonly known as Society Hill. It was an area ten blocks square replete with brownstone townhouses and historic buildings lining narrow streets, many of which still retained their original cobblestones. Sarah had kindly offered to let Michael shower at her apartment and borrow some of her clothes, since Michael had not been out of her office for almost two days.

Michael could have cabbed across town to her hotel, but Sarah’s was closer, and to be honest, she wanted to ask about Sloan’s past. She was very aware that neither Sloan nor Sarah ever did more than allude to it. She wanted to know the person who was J. T. Sloan. She already knew the kindness, loyalty, and strength, and those were things that attracted her, but she wondered what had shaped Sloan’s silences and forged the fleeting whisper of pain in her eyes. Those were the things that made Michael long to hold her, and more. But when she finally had the opportunity, she could not ask, understanding it was only Sloan’s secret to share.

“I’m sorry about disrupting your weekend plans,” she said instead.

“Don’t even give it a thought. With any luck, it won’t be the last time something disrupts my plans with Jason. I only hope we get to that point someday.”

BOOK: A Matter of Trust
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