A Matter of Trust (12 page)

“Jesus,” Sarah uttered in disbelief.

“Yeah. It was absurd and carried no merit, but even though the allegations were eventually dismissed, it ruined him. I heard about it through the rumor mill, at least the part that wasn’t busy talking about me. After that I looked him up, and we decided it was time for both of us to disappear. We cleared out and six months later we started the business.”

Sarah nodded. “I always wondered how the two of you ended up here together. So much has happened while I was away.”

“There isn’t much to tell.” Sloan had not volunteered the details so far, and probably never would.

Sarah’s expression said she knew that wasn’t true, but she let it go. Sloan had no doubt that the rumors had reached as far away as Thailand, but Sarah didn’t press, and she was grateful to let the subject drop.

Sloan shook off the memories and looked over at Michael, who was patiently waiting for her to answer. “I’m not sure if they’re dating or not. They’re going out together tonight, and I know Sarah is interested in him. I have a feeling it will all come down to Jason’s willingness to trust her.”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. “Not always an easy thing to do for anyone, and it must be so much harder for him.”

“Yes,” Sloan agreed with a sigh.

She pulled to a stop before the broad entrance to the stately pavilion that stretched for an entire block on the south side of Logan Square. Aware of the slight air of melancholy that clung to Michael, she reached impulsively for her hand, drawing her around in the small front seat to face her. They were only inches apart, and neither of them paid any attention to the young man in the short red jacket standing impatiently near Sloan’s door, waiting to park her car.

Sloan looked into Michael’s eyes. “If there’s something possible between them, Sarah will know what to do to help it grow. She’s got a gift that way. Now, I am going to take you inside and let everyone wonder how I have somehow managed to get the most beautiful woman in the room to sit at my table.”

Blushing, Michael thought that Sarah wasn’t the only one with a gift for knowing just the right thing to say. Then her smile erupted like the sun after a long cold winter, and she squeezed Sloan’s hand. “Since I could say the same thing about you, I think we should go show off a bit.”

Warmed both by her smile and the touch of her hand, Sloan burst into pleased laughter. “Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

As they walked up the broad expanse of marble staircase into the vaulted reception area, Michael slipped her arm through Sloan’s, a gesture as unconscious and natural as anything she had ever done. If Michael felt Sloan’s quick jerk of surprise or the slight trembling in the muscles under her fingers, she didn’t show it.

*

When they arrived, the enormous ballroom was nearly full. Magnificent chandeliers, ablaze with candle-shaped bulbs, hung above the dozens of tables that fronted a temporary stage erected at one end. The evening was primarily designed to benefit the myriad city agencies that dealt with the multidimensional challenge of AIDS treatment, but it was also an important venue for the many groups and individuals seeking supporters in the political arena.

Men and women, elegantly turned out, wandered about, greeting friends or taking advantage of the opportunity to network. Some of the women wore tuxedos while others were in designer dresses. Most men were in formal attire, too, although here and there representatives of the leather community strode about in full regalia, offering a striking counterpoint. Were it not for the many women walking hand in hand or the men with arms slung casually around each other’s waists, the gala might have passed for any ordinary fundraiser.

Jason and Sarah were already seated at the table Sloan had reserved near the stage. Jason, as always, looked immaculately attired in a black tuxedo, every blond hair in place. Sarah wore a simple dress in flattering tones of blue and green that accentuated her pale skin and emerald eyes. They both greeted Sloan and Michael with enthusiasm.

“God, this is wonderful,” Sarah commented. She looked around the room, continuing, “It’s a great turnout.” As Sloan pulled out the chair for Michael, she added, “You two look terrific, by the way.”

Briefly, she thought what an amazingly attractive couple they were before reminding herself that they weren’t a couple at all. But there
was
an unmistakable connection between them that seemed apparent to her, although clearly not to them. Sloan watched Michael with obvious pleasure as Michael slipped into the seat beside Jason, and Michael looked over at Sloan with a soft smile that would have been seductive coming from anyone other than her. On Michael, it merely seemed sweet, and lovely. And Sarah was astonished to see Sloan blush. She thought that might be a first for her usually imperturbable friend.

She was also aware of Jason fidgeting, nearly imperceptibly, next to her, and she said to him in a low voice, “Are you nervous about the performance?”

He laughed slightly, but his eyes were tense. “Not Jasmine’s,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Sarah touched his arm as she understood his meaning. “Jason, you needn’t worry about anything with me. I may kiss on the first date, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m looking forward to enjoying the evening with you. I don’t have any other designs on the night.”

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t think I mentioned it, but I’m glad you asked me.”

“Good. Then stop worrying.”

Her soft smile did more to set his mind at ease than even her words, though those helped, too. He thought she was quite the most attractive woman he had seen in forever, and he couldn’t understand what was making him so nervous around her. She was smart and sexy and kind, and he liked her laugh and the way she had of looking at him with a whimsical invitation in her eyes. And she knew about Jasmine. He realized, then, that he wanted to kiss her, and that fact was more frightening than he could imagine. Could she really accept, or even understand, what a part of him Jasmine truly was?

He shied away from her warm welcoming eyes, glancing first at the mass of people milling about between the tables, not really seeing any of them, before his attention finally focused on Sloan. He had always thought her compellingly good looking, but tonight, she looked exceptionally eye-catching. Her wavy black hair was sleekly brushed back from her temples, falling in casual layers to her collar, and a shock or two hung rakishly over her forehead. Her perfectly fitted tux accentuated her tautly muscled body, and he was reminded of the night they’d met.

Jasmine had first seen the dark-haired woman leaning against the bar in a crowded club on Dupont Circle—cool and cocky and sexy as hell in tight leather pants and a white shirt that clung to her chest, open tantalizingly low between small firm breasts. Jasmine was aware that she was looking particularly hot herself, and before long, the handsome stranger approached.

“Hello. I’m Sloan.”

“Jasmine.”

“Dance?”

“Not just yet.”

“Come on, I’m harmless.”

“Funny, you don’t look it.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Jasmine’s heart thudded, but there was only friendly interest in the woman’s eyes—not accusation. “Just a dance?” she’d asked without a hint of flirtatiousness.

“Just a dance,” Sloan grinned, “unless you change your mind by the end of it.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay then, just a dance.”

Maybe she should have said no, but Sloan had persisted, gently and charmingly. Even though it was dangerous—even though it didn’t make any sense—Jasmine wanted to know what it felt like to be held in a woman’s arms. This woman’s arms.

Then they were dancing, and their bodies fit together like the intricate curves of two puzzle pieces, as easily if they had danced together forever. As they were nearly the same height, it was natural for Jasmine to dip her head and rest her cheek in the bend of her partner’s neck and shoulder. Sloan’s hand was pressed to the small of her back, the strong muscles of her shoulders rippled beneath Jasmine’s fingers, and their thighs brushed lightly as they moved to the music. By the end of the song, they were both breathing hard, and Sloan let her intentions be known.

“I was wrong—it was more than a dance after all.” In a voice low and husky, she whispered against the curve of Jasmine’s ear, “Come home with me.”

And the wonderful fantasy shattered. Jasmine, despite her attraction, could not do that. Sloan, gorgeous and so sexy that just looking at her was a turn-on, wanted the woman she perceived Jasmine to be. Despite her efforts, Jasmine demurred.

He’d never expected to see Sloan again, and when they’d met by chance that day at work, he had initially been terrified by her anger. When she finally understood that he had not maliciously intended to deceive her, she’d simply accepted that Jasmine somehow existed in her own right, a conscious and powerfully defined element of his personality. It was the first time in his life that anyone had accepted the confluence so easily.

When she’d smiled ruefully and commented, “Man, I’m sorry I don’t swing both ways, because Jasmine is
fine,”
she had freed some part of him to hope that someone could actually know his secrets and not turn away from him.

Now he sat across from her, admiring her still, knowing that the small spark of desire she still ignited was just one facet of his attraction to her. She was his friend; she had saved his career, and his sanity, and perhaps his life that day she had come looking for him in the Department of Justice to offer him a way forward out of the lie. Joining her in business had been the best thing he’d ever done.

He jumped slightly when Sloan leaned toward him and said softly, “So, how you holding up?”

“Fine,” he responded, coloring quickly.

Jesus, did everyone have to know what was going on? He noticed gratefully that Michael didn’t seem to be watching him at all. She was clearly fascinated by the diverse and colorful crowd. Come to think of it, when she wasn’t watching the throng, her attention was pretty much riveted on Sloan. Oh God, she was way too naïve for the likes of Sloan.

Sarah pressed close, murmuring so that only he could hear, “They do look good together, don’t they?”

“Yes.” He watched Sloan bend her head to Michael’s and whisper something that made the blond laugh. He couldn’t hear the words, but the deep timbre of Sloan’s voice carried to him, and something of the warmth in it as well. She appeared taken with the new client, and the knowledge both pleased and, irrationally, irritated him. He’d thought he was long past the confusing feelings Sloan stirred in him.

Sarah rested her fingers on the top of his hand, and the tender gesture made him want to weep. He couldn’t cope with all the conflicting emotions and, turning to her, he said quietly, “Would you walk around with me for a few minutes until I need to go backstage?”

“Sure,” she said with a quick smile.

He smiled back, inordinately relieved and surprisingly pleased. Sarah seemed like the only solid ground in a very rapidly shifting landscape. Impulsively, he took her hand, and they slipped into the stream of people passing by.

*

After they were out of sight, Michael remarked to Sloan, “Jason seems nervous. I’d think it was sweet if I didn’t have a feeling that he was actually frightened. I feel for him.”

Sloan studied her, finding her an amazing blend of contrasts. She was coolly beautiful, even remote at first glance, and yet there was warmth in the depth of her eyes and the tone of her voice. “You are very perceptive.”

“Am I?” Michael asked with just the hint of a tease in her voice. “Am I correct then in surmising that you’re a little nervous, too?”

“Nervous? Me?” Sloan replied mockingly, taken aback by Michael’s intuitiveness...and by her frankness. She wasn’t used to anyone being able to read her so well. It both pleased and worried her. To be known, to be understood, was a powerfully seductive emotion.
It can make you careless, and it can make you vulnerable. And
that’s
a place I never want to be again.

“Yes, you,” Michael persisted, her tone still light but a question in her eyes.

“Perhaps,” Sloan allowed with a slight inclination of her head. “But I’m not afraid.”

“I wouldn’t imagine there is much that could make you nervous, or anything that would frighten you,” Michael remarked quite seriously.

“I am not invincible...or even particularly brave.” She stared at Michael, forgetting her earlier vow not to look into her eyes. She forgot her intention to be cautious as well. “You are threatening, but in a most pleasant way,” she murmured.

Watching Sloan’s eyes darken, Michael leaned closer, so drawn by the intent gaze that she lost track of the activity and conversation around her. Everything receded from her view except a violet so deep it was a siren’s song beckoning her to the cliffs.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because...” Sloan managed, her throat suddenly tight with desire,
your loveliness captures the imagination, and your kindness soothes the soul
. Head spinning, insides churning, she felt heat and want suffuse her limbs. Barely stifling a moan, she drew a ragged breath and finished, “You are so very beautiful, in so many ways.”

“If I am,” Michael whispered, stepping closer to the edge, not even realizing the danger, “you’re the first who’s ever said so.”