A Matter of Trust

by Radclyffe

  "He was - ah - involved."

  Michael gaped at her in astonishment, taking her meaning from her tone. "My god, what is it tonight? Something in the office air?"

  "Apparently," Sloan said ruefully. "Carpe diem," she said to herself. She glanced at the computer. Yeah, right.

  * * *

  Close to ten o'clock, Sloan announced, "I think that might have it." She leaned back in her chair, stretching her cramped shoulders and back. "With any luck, you should be able to start work again tomorrow morning. There are still a few things Jason will probably need to finish."

  "At this point," Michael said from across the room, "I don't care if the whole goddamned system goes up in smoke. You need to take a break. Now."

  Sloan nodded her agreement. She was tired, but exhilarated as well.

  "Let me take you to dinner," Michael said, sensing an opening. She had respected Sloan's wishes to let her work, but she hadn't forgotten what had happened earlier. Her body still throbbed. "You've earned it."

  "I need to take a shower and change clothes," Sloan amended. "Do you mind stopping at my place first?"

  "Anything," Michael said. "As long as it's away from here."

  They drove across town in Sloan's car in companionable silence. Michael was surprised to discover that Sloan owned a building in a section of the city previously dominated by factories that had recently become the focus of highly publicized renovations into trendy restaurants and much sought-after loft apartments. Sloan's was on a small side street that retained much of its historic charm, with the original cobblestone streets, horse hitches, and hand-laid brick sidewalks still in evidence. A garage opened on the first floor with a rear staircase and an old freight elevator that gave access to the upper floors. Sloan's loft was on the top floor, and when she slid the double doors open and motioned Michael inside, Michael gasped in delighted pleasure.

  "God, this is great," she exclaimed. The huge space was high ceilinged and completely open, different functional areas simply delineated by the strategic placement of furniture and scattered area rugs. Across the room, floor-to-ceiling windows afforded a sweeping panoramic view of the waterfront and their sister city across the river. The flickering lights of sailboats and cabin cruisers glittered on the glass-like surface of the water.

  "Thanks," Sloan said. "I need to get a shower and change. There's beer, wine, and sparkling water in the kitchen. Just help yourself."

  "Sloan," Michael called impulsively. "How about if we order pizza and stay here? The view is so beautiful, and I'm not sure I want to face the crowds."

  Michael looked so young, and so lovely standing there, that Sloan felt her throat tighten. Just that quickly, she was awash with desire again. She swallowed, backing up a few steps. "Sure. There are menus in the kitchen by the phone. Anything you like is fine with me."

  Sloan practically fled around the partition that separated her bedroom and bathroom from the common space in the rest of the loft. Michael stared after her, wondering what had prompted that quick flash of fear in her expressive eyes. Whatever the cause, she was determined not to leave until she discovered the answer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SLOAN EMERGED FROM her bedroom barefoot, her hair wet from the shower, in a clean shirt and jeans. Michael was just opening the pizza, which she had placed on the table in the seating area. She looked up with a smile.

  "You're just in time."

  "God, that smells great," Sloan exclaimed, flopping down gratefully on one end of a large leather sectional facing the windows. "I didn't realize before how hungry I was."

  Michael handed her a plate, sat beside her, and they both attacked the food with enthusiasm. Michael had poured a glass of wine for each of them, and neither of them spoke until the box was nearly empty.

  "That was terrific," Sloan said eventually as she leaned back contentedly.

  "I know I promised you dinner, and I didn't have pizza in mind," Michael said with a laugh. "But I'm hardly dressed for anything elegant tonight," she finished, indicating her borrowed clothing.

  "I think you look incredible," Sloan said appreciatively. Though Sarah's jeans and blouse were slightly big on Michael's taller more slender form, she nevertheless looked casually lovely. "Besides, the company more than makes up for the decor."

  Michael blushed and looked away. After a moment she said softly, "Are you always this charming with every woman?"

  Sloan stared at her in astonishment. "Oh, Michael! Don't you know that you are very beautiful and so incredibly sexy that it's heart stopping?"

  Michael looked at her steadily, then said, "Then what is it? Is there something here I'm missing? Something I'm supposed to do or say?"

  "It's not you," Sloan said vehemently.

  Michael's disbelief and lingering hurt shadowed her blue eyes, but she said nothing.

  "I'm sorry," Sloan said bitterly. "It's never been because of you."

  She got up abruptly and went to the windows, her back to the room and Michael. Though she gazed out, she was not seeing the waterfront, or the lights flickering like stars fallen to earth; she was remembering the sounds and sights of the nation's capital. It seemed like only yesterday, the pain was still so fresh. Finally she turned, leaning against the window casement, and began to speak.

  "When my tour in Thailand was over, I came back to Washington and was assigned to the Justice Department. I had a lot more experience than most of the other people working in computer crimes at that time. They moved me up fairly quickly even though I was young, and pretty soon I was heading a new unit that was similar to an Internal Affairs Division in a police department. I was testing our own internal security measures, looking for leaks. I answered directly to a member of the Justice Department - a special prosecutor assigned to deal with computer crimes. That included prosecuting members of government agencies as well. It was publicly very low profile, because obviously evidence of security leaks within the government does not produce confidence in the administration. By the same token, any government employee found to be responsible for, or even remotely connected to, breaches in security was dealt with swiftly. Since it was a fairly new area of investigation and prosecution, there tended to be a lot of overreaction when it came to dealing with individuals suspected of a crime. The prosecutors often brought charges first and got the details later."

  Sloan returned to the sitting area and poured herself more wine. With effort, she controlled her agitation enough to sit down on a portion of the sectional adjoining Michael's. For a moment, she stared into the wine, aimlessly turning the glass between her long fingers. God, she hadn't thought about it, not consciously, in so long! But it was still so raw her mind reeled from the memories.

  "And then I fell in love with the Special Prosecutor," she continued, her voice harsh with anger. "She was twelve years older than me, and a career government attorney. I think she had already set her sights on the Attorney General's position. She was very paranoid about anyone discovering our relationship, although I'm not convinced it would have made a difference. Nevertheless, I was young enough, and naive enough, to accept her disavowal of me whenever it suited her. I believed her when she said she loved me. "

  She drained her glass, and set it carefully on the glass-topped coffee table next to the pizza box. She searched Michael's face for a reaction. What she found was the compassionate warmth that always welcomed her and reached some deep place in her that longed to be comforted.

  "I wasn't completely inexperienced. I'd had affairs, but nothing really serious, and I was still foolish enough to believe in the power of love. I would have done anything she wanted. She actually pretended in public to have a long-standing relationship with a male attorney and she attended official functions with him now and then. She said she never slept with him, but I guess I'll never know. At the time, I trusted her."

  She smiled bitterly, casting Michael an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry. This sounds like every other relationship-gone-bad story I've ever heard. I didn't mean t
o subject you to this."

  "No," Michael said quickly and firmly. "I want to know. Please."

  Sloan nodded and steeled herself for the rest of it. "We'd been together almost two years, and for the last six months of that I had been spearheading an investigation of a division of the National Security Agency attached to the Joint Chiefs. There was a lot of highly sensitive information lying around, so to speak, as well as a 'locked room' with classified military armament codes, all stored on a number of hard drives. My people didn't actually have access to those areas, but we were trying to determine precisely who did. To make a long story short, an independent internal audit came up two hard drives short, and when the information leaked to the press, someone needed to take the fall. My lover knew that I had no direct or even indirect responsibility for that particular area, but my name was the most identifiable. She cut a deal with someone, probably a senator on one of the powerful subcommittees who promised to advance her career in exchange for avoiding public embarrassment of the NSA, and she offered them me as part of the bargain."

  Sloan shrugged. "End of story. I trusted her; she wanted a career perk more."

  Michael studied her thoughtfully. She could hear the pain and betrayal in Sloan's voice, and her heart ached for her. But there was something else she saw in her eyes, something that went far beyond the pain of an imperfect love. There was something bitter and hard in their depths.

  "Tell me the rest," Michael said gently.

  Sloan jerked in surprise, staring at her. After a moment's deliberation, she continued. "They came to my office at Justice in the middle of the day and took me away in handcuffs. News of the impending arrest had been leaked to the press. They were waiting when the police brought me out of the building. Cameras, news teams, people surrounding me, shouting at me. I had no idea what was happening." She grimaced briefly at the memory. "She let them do that to me, when an internal review board should have handled it before charges were even delineated. It was Friday afternoon, and I couldn't get an arraignment until Monday morning. I spent the weekend in a city lock up. I was the next best thing to having a cop in jail. It was a very unpleasant weekend."

  Michael struggled not to let her horror show. She swallowed painfully, nearly choking on her anguish. "Did they hurt you?"

  "No," Sloan said quickly. "Not that way. Oh, they pushed me around a little bit, but nothing serious. It was more the humiliation of being strip searched and treated like an animal. You lose your sense of humanity pretty quickly in there. The justice system is not kind to the accused."

  "I'm so sorry," Michael whispered.

  Sloan saw no reason to tell her of the deep sense of loss and self-doubt she had suffered when she realized the woman she loved, who she trusted with all her soul, had abandoned her in such a heartless way. Worse perhaps, she had lost faith in her own judgment along with her dignity during those seventy-two interminable hours. She had been partly responsible for what had happened every time she let her lover deny her in public and lie to her in private. She was ashamed, and now, she didn't even trust herself.

  "By Monday morning my attorney had talked to the Justice Department, and it was clear that there was no evidence to indict me. They apologized, expunged the record, and offered me a transfer. I didn't resign until a few weeks later, just after I heard what had happened to Jason with the sexual harassment suit. We both left, and six months later we started the business here."

  "And there's been no one serious since her?"

  Sloan shook her head. "No." She couldn't imagine being that vulnerable to anyone again. With love came too much potential for pain, and she could not pay that price again.

  Michael was silent, wondering if Sloan loved this woman still. That would explain her affairs, and her unwillingness to make a commitment. She did not ask. She was afraid of how she would feel if Sloan admitted it were true.

  Sloan finally broke the silence. "Would you like me to take you back to your hotel?"

  "No," Michael said very quietly. "I would like you to take me into the bedroom."

  "Michael," Sloan began, "I don't thi…."

  "Wait, Sloan," Michael interrupted. "I don't need you to explain or make promises or reassure me. I know what I'm saying. I've been going out of my mind today. I just need to feel you. Tonight, right now. Tomorrow is another lifetime away. Please."

  As she spoke, Michael moved the few feet to stand in front of Sloan. Sloan rose, putting her hands on Michael's waist. She held Michael tenderly, aware of the fine trembling in Michael's slender body as she rested her head against Sloan's shoulder with a soft sigh. Sloan pressed her face gently to Michael's hair, breathing in that faint spring scent she remembered from the night in Michael's hotel.

  "God, I want you," Sloan whispered hoarsely. "I want you."

  Michael turned her cheek, pressing her lips to Sloan's neck. "Yes."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SLOAN TOOK MICHAEL'S hand and led her gently into the bedroom. Moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating them in a soft pale glow. They stood by the bed, faces highlighted in the silvery luster, the air around them as still and filled with promise as a bird about to take flight. Sloan's eyes never left Michael's as she slowly reached out, carefully working each button free on Michael's blouse. Her hands were shaking, and as she drew the material open, she heard Michael catch her breath sharply.

  "Are you afraid?" Sloan whispered, knowing how new this was for Michael. For her, too, but in a different way. She dared not consider all the ways being with Michael was special.

  Michael smiled. "No," she answered immediately. "Are you?"

  The corner of Sloan's mouth lifted in a faint echo of her usual grin. "Terrified."

  Michael pressed her palm lightly to Sloan's face, her fingers playing softly down her cheek. "Please don't stop."

  Sloan could never remember wanting anyone so badly. It was a desire so intense she was nearly paralyzed, afraid to go too quickly, afraid her passion would explode, afraid of frightening Michael, afraid of losing her chance to savor each precious second. These were moments she wanted to burn indelibly into her memory, knowing they might very well be the most exquisite of her life. She contented herself with watching Michael's eyes deepen with desire as she lightly traced her fingers along the faint ridge of Michael's collarbone, dipping into the small hollow above, then running her fingertips down the soft slope of her chest. Michael's small sounds of pleasure and the fine tremor flickering through her muscles fired Sloan's blood. Sloan could hear the rasping sounds of her own ragged breathing loud in the hushed space.

  "You have wonderful hands," Michael murmured, feeling as if her bones were melting with each gentle caress. She laid her hand on Sloan's waist, content to let Sloan undress her. They stood only inches apart, both of them resisting the urge to press closer. Time hung suspended - each second might have been an hour, filled to overflowing with wonder. Each sensation was miraculous, unique and singular, and yet as familiar as coming home. Michael had never been so aroused, nor so certain of anything in her life.

  "You are so beautiful," Sloan responded, her voice unsteady. She was trembling with the effort to contain herself, her vision narrowed until all she knew was Michael's eyes and Michael's mouth. She was no longer conscious of anything beyond the heat in her belly and the pounding in her head and the ache in her chest. Still she moved carefully, sliding her hands under the edges of Michael's blouse, lifting the cloth as if unveiling a priceless treasure, pushing the material down Michael's arms and letting it drop to the floor. Only then did she lower her gaze.

  "Oh god," Sloan groaned, the muscles in her abdomen clenching. If there had ever been anything to equal what she saw now, she could not remember. A light sheen of perspiration covered Michael's skin, accentuating its pale perfection, highlighting her full breasts and taut nipples in shimmering starlight. "Perfect," she breathed, still not touching her.

  Michael reached for Sloan's hands, drawing them to her. "I'm aching for you," she resp
onded urgently. She swayed slightly as Sloan's fingers closed around her breasts, lifting them and capturing her nipples, squeezing lightly. Michael moaned, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

  "Michael," Sloan gasped, thirsting for Michael's passion, "let me see your eyes."

  With effort, Michael opened her eyes, and looked into Sloan's face. Sloan wore a look of fearful intensity, as if her entire being were focused on Michael. Michael had never been the object of such desire before. "You make me weak I want you so much," Michael said brokenly, cascades of need rippling through her.

  Sloan stepped closer, still fully clothed. With one hand she reached between them and opened Michael's jeans. She pushed them down and supported Michael with an arm around her while she stepped out of them. Pressing tightly to her, Michael's breasts swollen against her chest, Sloan stroked Michael's back and buttocks and the outsides of her thighs, all the while kissing her lips, the underside of her jaw, the base of her throat. She wanted to devour her, to satisfy her consuming hunger with the sight and sound and feel of her.

  "I'm going to fall," Michael said desperately. She had both hands on Sloan's shoulders, but even with that she was shaking too much to stand. A fearful pressure was building between her legs, a pleasure so intense she doubted she could contain it for long. "I need to lie down, and I need you to touch me."

  Ever so gently, Sloan nuzzled her face between Michael's breasts, closing her eyes, breathing her in. Then she turned her cheek, running her tongue over Michael's tightened nipple. Michael uttered a strangled cry and jerked in Sloan's arms. Sloan cupped Michael's hips firmly, guiding their bodies together in a slow circular dance.

  "I want to go slowly," Sloan whispered. "I need to go slowly. I want this night to last a lifetime."

  "I don't think I can stand it," Michael countered. Her head was spinning, and every drop of blood in her body seemed to be pulsating between her legs. She had never felt such urgency, had never sensed such longing, had never needed another's touch so badly. "I'm going to come apart if you don't do something soon."