A Matter of Trust by Radclyffe Page A

the exquisite material, but it was enough to send the blood rushing from Sloan’s head to somewhere much more problematic. Her throat was suddenly dry. She knew that she was staring and couldn’t seem to stop as the silence between them lengthened. She was having trouble catching her breath. Finally, she brought her gaze to Michael’s, where blue and violet fused, and they smiled into one another’s eyes.
    “You’re beautiful,” Sloan whispered, finding the words completely inadequate.
    Michael colored slightly, inordinately pleased. Why did a compliment from Sloan make her heart beat faster?
    “Thank you.” Reaching for Sloan’s hand, she pulled her inside. “I’ll just be a minute. I have to get my things.”
    Sloan stopped just inside the door, watching Michael move about the room, graceful and sure as she seemed to be in everything she did. She reminded herself that she was a friendly escort only, and that she had best keep her eyes above shoulder level for the rest of the evening. Her inability to control her autonomic nervous system around Michael Lassiter was becoming embarrassing and more than a little physically uncomfortable. Unfortunately, avoiding Michael’s body wasn’t enough to place her beyond danger, because just looking at Michael’s face could devastate her. It went beyond the perfect features and flawless skin and her breathtakingly beautiful blue eyes; there was a tenderness in her gaze and a gentleness in her voice that soothed Sloan’s wounded places.
    “Sloan?” Michael inquired lightly, surprised to see her still at the door and wondering at her hesitation to enter the room. It was so unusual for her to appear uncertain. “Do you need anything?”
    Sloan shook her head, thinking, if you only knew. Quickly, to hide her agitation, she answered, “I’m sorry. No, nothing. I’m fine.”
    Michael wasn’t sure she believed her, but she simply nodded, tossed a light jacket over her arm, and stepped through the door that Sloan held open for her. She was going out with friends, and she intended to have a wonderful time.
    As they walked to the elevator, she glanced sideways at Sloan, struck suddenly by her bold, strong profile and pantherlike fluidity. She thought again how attractive Sloan was in that dangerous sort of way that wild animals were. She had always been tempted to put her hands through the bars of the leopard’s cage at the zoo, just to feel those sleek, stalking muscles ripple under her fingers. It had always made her just a little breathless.
    Looking at Sloan was like that; being with her was a little like that, too. No one, male or female, had ever quite captivated her the way Sloan seemed able to. Being with her, talking with her, doing something as simple as sharing Chinese takeout in a deserted office building with her seemed to produce a slight shimmer of excitement. When Sloan looked at her with that piercingly intent stare, she made Michael feel as if she was the only thing that mattered at that moment.
    Michael caught her breath at that thought and realized that she’d been thinking of the evening ahead almost as if it were a date. She laughed inwardly at her own foolishness. She had never been attracted to a woman before, and even if she were, Sloan had more than enough women to choose from without giving her a second thought. Silly.
    “Michael?” Sloan asked, faint concern in her voice. “Are you all right?”
    Michael returned from her unconscious reverie to find Sloan standing by the curb, holding the passenger door of her Porsche open, a slightly bemused expression on her face.
    “Yes, of course.” She smiled and slid into the sports car, ignoring the slight tingle in her arm where Sloan’s fingers brushed against her skin.
    As they drove across town, Michael watched the city life through the window. Men and women in elegant evening wear hurried to the theater; teenagers bedecked in all manner of piercings, tattoos, and outrageous outfits crowded the