A Matter of Trust (14 page)

“One thing I’ve discovered in the last few weeks is that nothing that I thought I knew about life, or myself, is necessarily true,” Michael said with a touch of regret. “Least of all what being with someone is all about. Or even the why and the how of it all.”

“I think what they say about falling in love when you least expect it, and with the most unexpected person, just might be true,” Sarah responded quietly. She had heard the edge of pain in Michael’s voice.

“I think you’re right about that.”

Michael’s eyes were drawn again to Sloan and Jasmine. They moved so naturally in one another’s arms. Funny, that they should look so good together when it was all illusion. She wondered at her own bewilderment and confusion. Was that what her life with Nicholas had been? All just illusion?

Sloan attempted to hold Jasmine at a decorous distance, her right hand resting lightly at the base of Jasmine’s back in the slight hollow just above her very nice little butt. With her other hand, she enfolded Jasmine’s, which was surprisingly just a bit smaller than her own, and held it lightly against her own chest. The floor was fairly crowded with couples of all gender combinations, but even so, she didn’t think the proximity of the other dancers quite warranted the closeness with which Jasmine moved against her.

“Jasmine,” Sloan said softly.

Jasmine tilted her head back and smiled innocently. “Yes?”

“Are you trying to ruin my reputation?” Sloan maneuvered them confidently among the other couples nearby. She was an expert dancer and used to leading.

Jasmine, for her part, followed effortlessly, slowly moving her hips against Sloan’s pelvis. A little closer than she needed to but just exactly where she wanted to be.

“Whatever do you mean? Ruin your reputation?” She gyrated subtly but enough to feel Sloan’s muscles tighten. Her voice low, she continued, “I don’t think you need
me
to do that.”

Sloan registered the warmth of Jasmine’s body pressed against her chest, her stomach, and her thighs. She knew damn well what was underneath that sheer delicate silk of Jasmine’s dress, and that it wasn’t exactly what fulfilled her fantasies, but those contradictory facts didn’t quite penetrate all the way to her autonomic nervous system. The part of her that was physical, and sexual, and totally beyond her rational control, saw and felt a woman in her arms. Jason was only a memory.

There wasn’t a single thing about Jasmine that said
male.
She was soft in all the right places, smooth in just the right places, and curved in
precisely
the right places. She fit against Sloan completely naturally, and if that wasn’t enough, she knew exactly how to move to inflame every sensitive spot on Sloan’s body. Sloan was well aware that her heart was pounding hard enough for Jasmine to feel it—that and the tremors starting in her legs.

“Damn it, Jasmine,” she said through gritted teeth. “This is no place for a display.” She glanced over at the table where Michael and Sarah were watching them with faintly amused expressions and felt color rise to her face. She was oddly embarrassed, and she hoped Michael didn’t know why.

“Spoilsport,” Jasmine whispered, but she finally took pity on her partner and moved away a fraction of an inch. She liked to play with Sloan, and usually Sloan didn’t seem to mind, but tonight she sensed not only Sloan’s faint desire but also her discomfort. As much as some part of her enjoyed the heady feeling of turning on the handsome and oh-so-unattainable dark-haired Romeo, she knew enough to stop before things got out of hand—for either of them.

Sloan wasn’t the only one whose heart was tripping a little faster, or whose stomach fluttered with those first whispers of wanting. While the sensation was pleasurable, their friendship was more important. One night, one hour even, of mutual exploration, no matter how exciting that might be—and she had no doubt that a roll in the sack with Sloan would be wild beyond her dreams—wouldn’t be worth the aftermath. They couldn’t have a relationship, let alone a life together, and giving in to their physical attraction would destroy what they did have. Too much to lose, and glancing across the room to where the other women sat watching them, she realized there was another reason now, too. Sarah was smiling at her.

Then Sarah winked, and some long-guarded barrier in Jasmine’s soul cracked just a bit. Sarah seemed to understand exactly who she needed to be and how she needed to feel. No one had ever come close to understanding her before. It was so overwhelming that it frightened her almost to death. She was afraid that she would get used to how good it made her feel. And then she might begin to dream. Hope and dreams, she had discovered, were the narcotics of a lonely heart, lulling one into believing happiness could actually be attained. The despair that followed when the empty promises were revealed was devastating.

As much as she ached to have Sarah accept her, she rebelled at the thought of relinquishing her defenses. She had done that once, and her life had been destroyed. If she let another woman close, only to be deserted, her soul would crumble. Anger and fear warred with her desire to believe that Sarah could be different. The old hurts still festered, rejection and humiliation still burned, and she wanted to lash out. Her dance partner was in the path of her pain.

Without thinking, Jasmine said, “What’s the matter, Sloan? Are you afraid that Michael will find out that you have no self-control? I would imagine she already knows that. You must have taken her to bed by now.”

Sloan stiffened instantly, her jaw bunching with swift rage. “Michael has absolutely nothing to do with this, Jasmine. This is about you and me, and the fact that you seem to enjoy offering what you won’t deliver.”

“I’ve never offered you anything, Sloan.” Jasmine stepped completely out of the circle of Sloan’s arms, her anger rapidly replaced by hurt. “You might find this hard to believe, but one-night stands are your specialty, not mine.” She turned, head held high, and moved sensuously back through the crowd to the table.

Sloan stared after her for a second, cursing herself under her breath. It hadn’t been Jasmine’s fault; she knew Jasmine had only been playing. It wasn’t the first time in their lives that had happened, and usually she just laughed it off. It had been the mention of Michael that set her off—and the suggestion that she would treat her like...like...

Well, like one of my casual dates. A little bit of company, a little bit of fun, a physical encounter without any real thought to the consequences.
It’s not as if I ever make any promises, or even plan for it to happen. If, in the course of an evening, the woman I happen to be with chooses to continue our conversation in bed when I offer...what’s the harm? We’re both adults, and one night in bed doesn’t imply a long-term commitment. Why not share a little mutual pleasure?

Sloan looked at Michael, her face in profile as she leaned close to Sarah to share some thought, her hand resting easily on the other woman’s arm. She swallowed and looked away, trying to dispel the lingering image of Michael’s poignant beauty, knowing she could never take her to bed for a night. One night would never be enough, and that was exactly the problem. She hadn’t wanted more than a night, or anything beyond that level of commitment, in many years. She certainly didn’t want it now.

Damn.
I overreacted badly when Jasmine hinted that I would take Michael to bed for nothing more than a bit of gratification—because I
don’t
want to. I’d end up wanting much more than that.

She took a deep breath and started toward the table to give Jasmine the apology she deserved. She was almost there when a voice at her elbow stopped her.

“Now I see why you couldn’t bring
me
to this little affair,” the tall, attractive brunette said loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone at Sloan’s table as well as those seated nearby.

“Hello, Claudia,” Sloan said calmly, ensuring her face would reveal nothing to those close enough to be curious.

She had originally planned to attend the benefit with Claudia Carson. Claudia was a very attractive, intelligent woman, and they got along well. They also slept together occasionally, to their mutual enjoyment.

But when they’d last been out to dinner, it had become undeniably apparent to her that Claudia was beginning to think of them as a couple, and Sloan had just barely managed to extract herself from an awkward situation before they were both embarrassed. At the end of the evening, she’d realized she didn’t want to have sex with Claudia, a fact that had surprised even her. Her companion, however, had been under a different impression.

Claudia had grabbed for her the moment she closed the apartment door, impatiently pressing her mouth to Sloan’s, one hand tugging at the belt on Sloan’s trousers, her breasts crushed to Sloan’s chest.

“I’ve been so hot for you all night,” she panted as she moved urgently against her. “Right here is fine. Let’s do it right here.”

Sloan was up against the door, and Claudia was all over her. Her skin started to burn where Claudia’s nipples, piercingly hard, rubbed against her shirt. It felt good, there was no way she could deny that, just as Claudia’s thigh pushing between her own made her limbs grow heavy with lust. She closed her eyes, automatically sweeping her palms up Claudia’s smooth sides toward her breasts. Nevertheless, even as her body responded involuntarily, her mind protested. She couldn’t say why—couldn’t think quite clearly enough to make sense of what she felt—but she knew this wasn’t what she wanted.

“Wait,” she gasped, attempting to step away and having nowhere to go. Ignoring the trembling in her legs as Claudia worked the zipper down on her fly, she repeated, “Claudia, stop.”

“Why?” Claudia murmured, her fingers slipping under Sloan’s waistband, her voice throaty with desire. She clearly wasn’t listening to anything at that moment other than her own body’s demands. “Baby, you’re hot, too, and I am so ready.”

Sloan shuddered, her head pounding, aware that she was throbbing just below Claudia’s fingertips. If she moved an inch, Claudia would be stroking her, and no amount of good sense would make her want to stop then. She grasped Claudia’s hand, stilling her explorations. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Claudia removed her hand immediately and stepped back so swiftly that Sloan nearly stumbled. The look on her face went from brief confusion and disappointment to anger. “Get out,” was all that she managed.

Sloan was happy to oblige, because, for an instant, she thought Claudia was going to strike her. In hindsight, she could see the reason that Claudia hadn’t struck her that night was probably because the rejected woman had been stone-cold sober. She wasn’t at the moment, however.

“You bastard,” Claudia said quite clearly as her hand whipped across Sloan’s cheek.

With a reflex turn of her head, Sloan absorbed most of the blow, but still it stung, and she tasted the salty tang of blood on the inside of her lip. She kept both hands firmly at her sides and motioned
no
to Sarah with a quick shake of her head when she saw her friend rising to come to her aid.

“Where is your table, Claudia?” Sloan asked, aware that the woman was swaying and that her face was slack with too much alcohol. “Who are you with?”

“I came alone,” Claudia said sharply, anger cutting through the haze. “My
date
preferred to plow fresher fields for the evening.” She looked in Michael’s direction as she spoke.

“Are you driving?”

“That
is none of your business,” Claudia said archly, but her voice slurred as her anger dissipated, and she stumbled as she started to turn away.

“Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” Sloan suggested softly, stepping closer and slipping her hand under Claudia’s elbow to steady her.

Claudia tried to fling off Sloan’s hold but only succeeded in completely losing her balance. She ended up clutching at Sloan’s shirtfront instead, her head resting on Sloan’s shoulder. “I
hate
that I still want you.”

Realizing that Claudia was much more intoxicated than she had first thought, and that there was no way she could send her home alone in a cab, Sloan guided her closer to the table. Quietly, she said to Michael, “I’m sorry, but I need to take Ms. Carson home. Would you mind if Sarah drives you back to your hotel?”

Michael looked from the woman leaning against Sloan’s side into Sloan’s cool eyes and could read nothing. They might have been the eyes of a stranger. She answered just as quietly, “Of course not. Please go ahead.”

“Good night,” Sloan said with a nod to Sarah and Jasmine, then slipped her arm around Claudia Carson’s waist and walked her from the room.

Most of the eyes in the crowd followed their departure, and voices speculated on the latest romantic escapades of the somewhat notorious J. T. Sloan. Not saying a word, Michael watched them also. She too wondered just what hold the lovely Ms. Carson had on Sloan.

*

For a moment, the table was silent. Then Jasmine, in a rare show of restraint, said softly, “Well, Sloan handled that nicely.”

Both Sarah and Michael looked at her questioningly.

“Claudia Carson was about to fall down drunk and make a spectacle of herself. She would have been humiliated in front of some of the most influential people in the community, and I don’t just mean the gay and lesbian community either. There are a lot of political movers and shakers here tonight. Sloan just saved her a lot of embarrassment.”