Suspect Passions (20 page)

“Perfect sense. She doesn’t sound like your everyday lay. The woman’s got class. So, how do you feel about her?”

There it was, the big F-word, the subject they avoided when referring to her liaisons. It was like Jesse knew instinctively that Syd’s sexcapades had nothing to do with feelings, other than avoiding them.

“It was great,” she told Jesse. “And now it’s over. We agreed up front to spend the night, fuck each other’s brains out, and move on.”

“I didn’t ask what you
think
about it. I asked how you
feel.
” Jesse eyed Syd with her no-bullshit stare and took the final slug of her beer.

How could she possibly answer Jesse truthfully? She had no idea what the truth was at this point. Her interaction with Regan hadn’t been ordinary fare. Whatever the reason, she
had
felt a connection to her. And it wasn’t until Syd embraced that gift that she realized her own susceptibility, her own desire to touch and be touched in that intimate, enduring way. It had been that sense of union that drove her from her own home the next morning without even a good-bye. She had no frame of reference for these feelings, and the idea of facing them and trying to figure out what they meant scared her more than staring down the barrel of a gun. She’d done the only thing she could do. Accepted the terms like an adult and walked away.

“Jess. I’m going through a lot right now, and I’m not sure what I feel about anything. Was it different? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”

“That says a lot for you. But do me a favor and don’t cut this one loose too quickly. Take your time and figure out what’s really going on, now that the trial’s over and you’re not so preoccupied. Okay?”

Syd finished her martini and glanced toward the shreds of paper littering her bed. Syd didn’t want Regan to feel anything more was expected of her. They’d had their celebration, and it was special, but they’d gone into it with no illusions. Maybe the note had given the wrong impression. Maybe Regan thought she had to send a stronger signal.

Syd was already plotting her strategy to avoid Regan in the future. She didn’t understand why this particular woman stuck in her mind and made her deviate from her reliable methods of survival and pleasure. The question felt like a bomb ticking inside, foreign and dangerous. She had made the right decision to leave cleanly and quickly, she told herself again. Now she just had to stick with her plan. Obviously she wouldn’t meet any resistance from Regan.

*

Terry Blair leaned against Regan’s desk. “We’re getting calls.”

“Calls?” Regan looked up at him blankly.

“Ever since the Cabot case. You’ve got some new fans out there.”

“I just got lucky.”

“Luck might’ve had something to do with it, but getting a judge to hear a potentially volatile wrongful-death case in a bench trial, then render a decision so quickly involved a lot more than luck. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He flipped though a file. “Firms all across the state want to steal you away from us. Even some old law-school buddies of mine.”

Regan tried to absorb what Terry was saying but her mind seemed blanketed in a fog of emotions that wouldn’t dissolve. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“The bottom line is that you’re a hot commodity in the private sector again, Regan. You can pick and choose your next job, complete with any benefits package you want. Of course, I’m hoping you don’t take the bait.” He patted her on the shoulder and turned toward his office. “I’m proud of you. Excellent work.”

After he left, Regan slumped into her comforting leather desk chair, her mind spinning. She’d spent the past week trying to process the tremendous shift in her life. It had taken days to move beyond the professional high from her victory in court and direct her attention to work, and she still hadn’t found a way to put Sydney Cabot out of her mind. She seemed trapped in a permanent state of physical arousal, constantly plugged into her senses. Her body hummed like the wires along an electrical circuit, alive and energized from her lovemaking with Syd. But she felt more than sexually rekindled. She’d connected on an emotional level with Syd in a way she’d never experienced. Allowing herself to be completely vulnerable and available physically had opened a door to feelings she’d kept buried for years. It seemed inconceivable that one night of sex could produce such a profound change, and she kept waiting for the feelings to pass. But every nerve remained alert, as though at any moment Syd might walk in the door and tear off her clothes.

Regan had mastered the art of convincing herself that her emotional truth was the only one and protecting her overly sensitive heart from caring too much. It was easy to tell herself that Syd was only doing what came naturally. It was particularly easy to convince herself that she’d gone along with the plan willingly, because she had. But there didn’t seem to be a magic button in her brain that could turn off the barrage of arousing sights, sounds, smells, and tastes that constantly reminded her of Syd.

She still couldn’t understand why Syd had simply abandoned her with such insulting haste. She couldn’t accept that the connection she’d experienced was one-sided. Syd had definitely enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she had. She’d described the encounter as “special.” Was that what she told every woman? How could she just leave a three-sentence note that basically amounted to a callous dismissal? It was the highest form of insult and rejection.

Regan’s emotional guardians sprang into place with the usual string of recriminations, guaranteed to successfully bolster her defenses. She knew Syd Cabot was a player the moment she saw her having sex in a public restroom. Her first impression had been correct. The string of ex-lovers willing to defend her even after they’d all made complaints behind her back should’ve been a warning to run the other way.

Regan knew better than most that any good player has a repertoire of readily available emotions to trick the weak and fool the unwise. She’d spent her childhood protecting herself and her brothers from the skilled ministrations of disengaged adults. But Syd’s tears had seemed so genuine and heartfelt, Regan had simply allowed herself to fall for the oldest ruse in the book, a crying woman.

The memory of Syd with her head buried between Regan’s breasts renewed a fresh round of desire. How had she been so easily duped? She wished she’d never met Sydney Cabot, never been assigned her case, and especially never made love with her. Only a desperate woman gave in as easily as she had that night. And she
had
given in, completely, another deviation from her normal behavior, another red light she’d ignored. She didn’t understand what possessed her to disregard all the hazard signs and plunge headlong into this quicksand.

Shaking her head, Regan reverted to what she did best, her job. For the first time since she’d returned to the job a week earlier, she sorted the large stack of pink message slips in front of her. They were all from prominent law firms across the state. Her mood slowly lifted and she felt exhilarated about the possibility of a revitalized career in the private sector.

If getting Sydney Cabot off her mind wasn’t possible, she’d do the next-best thing and remove herself from the situation completely. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d relocated to forget a woman, and this one’s talons were weak compared to fifteen years with Martha.

Shuffling through the messages, Regan came to the name of a woman she recognized and whose work she respected. She dialed the number, identified herself, and waited to be connected. A few minutes later she had a dinner appointment with Nancy Hyde to talk about a new job.

“There, I feel better,” she said as she returned the phone to its cradle. A small, needling voice in the back of her mind replied,
Right.

Syd yawned as she made the last tour of her patrol zone for the night. Since getting back on the job, she’d settled into the routines of shifts and lineups with a mixture of relief and deep contentment. She was back in command of her life, operating inside her comfort zone once more. Her work performance was nearing its all-time high, almost as if the shooting had never occurred. Life was returning to normal, with the notable and frustrating exception of her sexual adventures.

This past month was the longest dry spell she’d experienced in over a year, and it wasn’t welcome. The rush of being back on the job satisfied an adrenaline need, but nothing assured her she was alive like frequent hot sex. She stopped by the club every night on her way home but no one sparked any interest. Jesse had even planned several singles nights to snap her out of the funk, but that hadn’t worked.

While her body remained sexually inactive, her mind was out of control. Flashes of her night with Regan seemed trapped in a memory recall that tormented her over and over. She tried to rid herself of them by comparing their encounter with the numerous anonymous liaisons she’d had and telling herself there was really no difference, sex was sex. But each time she relived kissing, stroking, sucking, and filling Regan, or imagined herself responding to similar actions, her body disagreed. And if that wasn’t enough, her traitorous mind had also begun a tormenting series of domestic scenarios starring her and Regan as the lesbian version of
Ozzie and Harriet.
She allowed herself to get caught up in the idea of a long-term relationship, sharing thoughts and feelings, building a life together, and making a home—things Syd had never thought about with any woman. Just as quickly as these fantasies rained down on her, striking her dumb with giddy possibility, they were gone, leaving her appalled at her pathetic clichéd predictability.

Despite recurring urges to sabotage her plan to avoid Regan Desanto, it seemed to be working out. She was careful to enter and leave the municipal building through the police-department entrance, which almost guaranteed no contact with other city employees. She hadn’t seen Regan for more than a month, and the attorney had made no attempt to contact her. As they’d agreed, they had both moved on, and all Syd needed now was to return to her usual hedonistic pleasures, stimulated or not, and let nature take its course. The Priscilla incident had put her off her stride, but Syd was no longer trying to blot out pain with alcohol and sex. She wasn’t taking stupid risks anymore, but it was time to jump back in the saddle. Once she turned on her come-hither charisma and her prey took the bait, the thrill of the tease would kick in and she’d be back in a game that felt comfortable.

Grinning at the thought, she headed toward the station to check off for the night. Just as she rounded the corner, a red convertible Mustang peeled out from the intersection, leaving a long streak of burned rubber in its wake. She sighed at the stupidity of the motoring public and flipped on her blue lights. The driver acknowledged her but didn’t stop immediately. Syd followed the vehicle slowly into the back of a darkened parking lot on the next corner. After calling in the stop, she approached along the back of the vehicle and inched her way to the driver’s door, pausing just shy of the jamb.

“Good evening, ma’am. May I see your license and registration, please?”

“I thought that would get your attention, Syd. Remember me?”

An attractive brunette slid her tall frame from the car and leaned against the side. The woman’s well-defined upper body and thighs, accentuated by skimpy Soffe shorts and a tight sports bra, captured Syd’s attention immediately. A familiar twitch between her legs caught her momentarily by surprise.

She struggled to recall a name, scanning the car for clues, and was rewarded when she saw a gym bag on the backseat.

“Dana, from the workout center, of course I remember you.” She recalled her face from among those around the conference table the day of her trial.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. You looked pretty stressed out in the lawyer’s office.”

Syd winced at the thought of
that
day, wishing she never had to remember it again—not the trial, not facing her exes, and especially not making love with Regan afterward. “Yeah, it was tough. How are you?”

The traffic stop had shifted to a social event, and Syd was anxious to redirect or end it altogether.

“How do I look?” Dana replied suggestively.

“Tempting as always.” The reply was automatic.

With a glimmer in her eyes, Dana said, “Would you meet me at the club when you get off work? I’d like to get reacquainted.” She reached between Syd’s legs and squeezed.

Fabric and flesh rubbed together in a tantalizing sensation that caused Syd’s breath to hitch in her throat. Her earlier resolution came to mind. Here was the perfect opportunity to get her sex life back on track. “Sounds like a great idea. I was just about to check out anyway. Give me thirty minutes.”

Dana leaned in closer and grabbed Syd’s rear with both hands, jerking their bodies together, scrubbing her pelvis against Syd’s. “Any chance you could leave the uniform on? I really enjoyed peeling it off last time.”

Syd struggled against the growing moisture in her crotch, reminding herself that she was still on duty. “That might be a bit risky.” She backed reluctantly away from Dana, wanting to stay and let the familiar sensations overcome her. “But I’ll be there shortly.”

“I’ll take you any way I can get you.” Dana got back in her car, waved, and spun off, leaving another expensive patch of tire tread as she made a U-turn and headed toward the Cop Out.

“Perfect.” Syd pumped the air with her fist as she got back in her patrol car and hurried through her check-off routine.