A Matter of Trust (25 page)

“Why can’t I just take a little time off like anyone else?” she grumbled.

“Uh-huh,” Sarah responded agreeably, choosing not to comment on Sloan’s obvious distress. “A break. I could buy that if it were anyone but you. I can’t remember the last time you voluntarily took a break. Does this have to do with Michael?”

Sloan blew out a breath, too exhausted to keep up pretenses when Sarah would eventually get it out of her anyway. “Most of it.”

“Look, sweetie, I’m not trying to pry into your personal life, it’s just that I really care about you. And Michael, too. You’re one of my oldest friends, and I’ve loved you for a long time. I haven’t known Michael very long at all, but it’s easy to care about her. Sometimes when you get thrown together with someone during a crisis, you get to know them better than people you’ve known for years. You find out pretty fast what they’re made of. She’s special.”

“I know.”

“If it makes it any easier, I already know that you slept with her.”

Sloan jerked her head around. “She told you?”

“She didn’t have to,” Sarah said with a soft laugh. “It was pretty obvious that something major had happened to her, and I guessed. She has feelings for you, old friend, and I have a suspicion that it’s reciprocal.”

“That’s the problem. She’s not like the other women I’ve been dating. She doesn’t have any experience with this kind of thing, and I’m afraid...” Sloan’s voice trailed off as she tried to analyze what she had been avoiding for so long.
What exactly
am
I afraid of?

“I agree that she’s
inexperienced
, but I don’t think she’s naïve.” Affectionately, Sarah nudged Sloan’s leg with her foot. “She’s an extraordinarily intelligent, successful woman, and she has been remarkably calm during something that would throw most of us completely off balance. She has managed to deal with her husband’s threats, still do the work she’s needed to do,
and
handled all of her feelings for you, too. That’s an amazing accomplishment, and I think you’re doing her a disservice to think she doesn’t know
exactly
what this means.”

When her comments were met with silence, she continued quietly, “Don’t try to second-guess her, Sloan. I can understand how hard it must be for you to trust her. I know how hard it’s been for me with Jason, and I haven’t experienced the kind of horrible betrayal that you have. But do you plan to spend the rest of your life having casual sex with women you don’t really care about?”

“What the fuck do you care?” Sloan eyed her angrily, her temper dangerously close to meltdown. She was about to object further when she realized that her friend was only stating the truth. “Some people aren’t meant for relationships,” she said flatly. “I seem to be getting along fine the way things are.”

“Fine. Uh-huh. Maybe you’re right, but somehow I don’t buy it. I know you, and I know how tender and caring you can be. If you weren’t, I don’t believe Michael would have fallen in love with you.”

“In love...with me?” Sloan started as if struck. “Did she
say
that?”

“That’s my reading of the situation, but you’ll have to ask her.” Sarah stood, offering Sloan a hand up. “I invited her to go out with Jasmine and me on Saturday night. I decided that if I’m ever going to get Jason to believe I’m crazy about him, I’ll have to prove it to Jasmine, too. We’re all going dancing at Chances. You know where it is, and if you want to know the answer to your question, come by and ask Michael yourself.”

Sloan followed her wordlessly into the weight room, thinking about the cost of dreams and the price of passion.

Sloan sat in her car across the street from Chances, watching Saturday-night revelers come and go. She’d been debating whether or not to go inside for at least twenty minutes. She knew what the problem was and wasn’t particularly proud of herself. If she went inside, she would see Michael. She would have to speak with her, and there was no way that she could see her and talk to her without acknowledging what had happened between them.

And then what? I can’t even think it through, let alone talk about it.

That was the wall that she had run into over and over again for the last six days. Every time she got close to admitting what she felt, something approaching terror welled up inside and threatened to choke her. She recognized it, even understood it, but could not seem to control it.

I’m sorry I ran out on you, Michael, but basically, I’m just running scared. Right. That will definitely clear it all up.

Nothing about Michael reminded her of Elise. True, there were similarities—on the surface. They were both successful, intelligent, and professionally accomplished. But there the similarity ended. Where Elise had been icily sophisticated and emotionally remote, Michael was approachable and amazingly sensitive. Michael had captured Sloan’s attention from the very first moment they had met, and before long, had claimed her heart as well.

Nevertheless, she was afraid. Afraid of caring, even though the ache of missing Michael these last few days had been worse than any pain she could remember enduring, including that humiliating weekend of incarceration. But the scars were still sensitive; so here she sat, paralyzed. She wanted more than anything to see Michael, yet feared the instant when she looked across the room and knew with certainty that Michael was the key to her happiness.

Watching women walk arm and arm into the bar across the street, feeling more and more alone with each passing second, she thought about something Jason had said just that afternoon. She’d asked him to get the semiannual financial reports together for her to review.

“First thing Monday morning,” he’d said. “I’m about to knock off now. Jasmine and Sarah have a hot date tonight.”

“Yes, I know.” Trying to sound only moderately interested, she asked, “Isn’t Michael supposed to be going with you?”

“Last I heard,” he answered, exasperatingly secretive. “And I hope I won’t be doing anything remotely resembling work the rest of the weekend.”

Sloan struggled not to ask for details. “How do you feel about Sarah and Jasmine going out?”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then he’d replied, “A little scared. But too much of me wants this not to take a chance. Sarah is special, and I don’t expect anyone like her to come along again. I can’t afford not to trust her.”

Sloan stared across the street, believing in her heart that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t take a chance.
Michael is special, too.
She was brave enough to tell me how she felt about me—in spite of convention, despite the risk of rejection.
I can’t afford not to trust her.

Taking a deep breath, she pocketed her keys and pushed open the car door. As she stepped out, someone called her name. Crossing the street, she scanned the crowded sidewalk. She finally spied Claudia Carson, who stood waiting for her beside the entrance to the club.

Sloan nodded in greeting. “Hello, Claudia. How are you?”

“Better than the last time we met.” Claudia smiled ever so slightly. “Still looking for Ms. Right, but I haven’t made an ass of myself in at least a couple of weeks. I do owe you an apology.”

“No, you don’t. I wasn’t exactly innocent in the whole deal either. Sometimes it’s easy to fool yourself into thinking you have no responsibility for the way other people feel, but I think that might just be a convenient excuse. I’m sorry for the way things turned out, too.”

“Are you?” Surprised by the remorseful tone in Sloan’s voice, Claudia studied her curiously. It would be much easier to forget J. T. Sloan if she weren’t so attractive standing there in her black jeans and crisp white shirt, maddeningly sexy in her utter disregard for external trappings. “Sorry enough to give it another try?” Claudia asked lightly, resting her hand on Sloan’s forearm to convey she was still quite serious. “No strings attached this time. I promise.”

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” Sloan said, knowing that she could never go back to casual affairs. No matter how hard she tried to set boundaries, people still got hurt, and some of that was her responsibility. Beyond that, she knew that after what she had experienced with Michael, nothing would ever reach the places in her that needed to be touched. Michael had awakened those needs, and after their night together, anything else would be an empty charade. Anyone else would be a pale substitute.

“Well,” Claudia said with a wry grin. “I had to ask.”

Sloan reached for the door. “Can I buy you a drink for old time’s sake, though?”

Claudia smiled in gracious defeat and took her arm. “I think one is about my limit these days. But thanks, I accept.”

*

From across the room, Michael saw Sloan for the first time since the weekend they’d made love. The last six days had been an emotional roller-coaster ride. The first few times the phone had rung, she’d answered with near-breathless anticipation, eager just to hear Sloan’s voice, her skin alive with the memory of her touch. With each passing day that Sloan stayed away, her excitement turned to confusion and finally coalesced into a hard ache of rejection. She remembered Sloan’s words the first time they kissed.
“We’ll both regret this in the morning.”

Perhaps Sloan regretted it, but she didn’t. God, she could think of nothing else. She’d tried to keep busy with meetings and the last-minute details of her projects, and for a while she had been able to relegate her disappointment to the back of her mind. As the week wore on, however, all she could think of was Sloan. If that weren’t bad enough, her entire body seemed to be reacting to their night together in a fashion completely foreign to her. It was as if some hunger, held at bay for years, had suddenly been awakened. It took only a fleeting memory of their night together to arouse her. She was besieged by an almost insatiable need to see Sloan, hear her voice, feel her touch. She’d had to restrain herself from picking up the phone and asking Sloan what the silence meant.

At the sight of her, Michael’s pulse pounded with excitement. In the next instant, her heart plummeted in disappointment
.

Well, that explains why she hasn’t called. She’s with Claudia. I guess a one-night stand is exactly what it was between us. Of course, she never suggested otherwise.

She reminded herself that she had practically begged for the one night they
had
shared. And then she’d assured Sloan that she knew what she was doing, had promised that one night would be enough. God, how stupid she’d been. That one night was like a single drop of rain in the desert—sweet, sweet torture—and not nearly enough.

This
torture was not sweet; it was agony. She turned away, unable to watch as the stately brunette pressed close to Sloan in the crowd at the bar, draping one hand casually around Sloan’s waist as she reached for the drink the bartender offered.
I’ve got to get out of here.

She glanced anxiously over the crowded dance floor for her friends, needing to tell them this was a mistake, that she had to leave. She couldn’t stay here, not with Sloan so near and her own emotions so out of control. It had seemed so harmless when Sarah suggested she go along to Chances with the two of them—something to get her away from the office and out of her hotel room. Sarah had even hinted that she would appreciate the company on her first
date
with Jasmine.

The one thing that Michael hadn’t considered was how painful it would be, surrounded by women holding each other, dancing together, sharing small caresses. It was unbearable. Even seeing the first hesitant touches between Sarah and Jasmine was bittersweet. She was happy for them, but at the same time, their intimate glances made her acutely aware of her own deep longing for Sloan. She might have managed to contain the pain if Sloan hadn’t actually appeared. Now, seeing her, she was afraid her agony would turn to tears.

*

Sloan turned her back to the bar, beer in hand, and surveyed the crowd. She hadn’t thought about going out to a club since the day she had walked into her office and found Michael Lassiter waiting for her, because after that she hadn’t been interested in a casual encounter.

Looking around at the familiar mating rituals, she found them unexpectedly devoid of meaning; what had once filled a need now seemed pointless. She couldn’t help thinking that her affairs had only been an excuse to avoid her own despair, to deny just how very much it had hurt when Elise left her.

Pretty cowardly, now that she thought about it. That was one of the things she loved about Michael, how she refused to run from disappointment, no matter how hard it was.

Jesus. What am I saying?
Love her?

“Did you say something?” Claudia shouted above the din of voices and music.

“No. Nothing.”

She had come to find Michael, and she began to search the crowd for her, but found another familiar figure first. Slender, long-legged, unashamedly seductive as always in a short leather skirt and black Lycra top, Jasmine moved on the dance floor with the same sensuous grace that had first attracted Sloan’s attention years before in a similar smoke-clouded club. Watching her, she suddenly realized why Jasmine had been able to fool her so successfully the first time they met. When Jasmine wasn’t performing, her appearance was subtly different. What make-up she wore was carefully applied to highlight her eyes and sculpted cheekbones and to accentuate her lips, but it was far less than the stage make-up that she wore professionally. Out of costume in normal clothing, Jasmine appeared unquestionably female.