When Michael returned to her office shortly after five o'clock, she discovered Sloan stretched out on her back on the sofa, eyes closed, a leg dangling part way over the edge, one hand resting on her thigh and the other open palm-up by her side. Michael knew she should simply turn away and let her rest, but she found she could not avert her gaze. It seemed as if every facet of Sloan's face and body were miraculous discoveries, precious details to savor again and again. She had never noticed before how sensuous the slight rise of a woman's breast beneath a cotton tee shirt could appear, nor how alluring faded denim might look stretched over a long, lean thigh, nor how the flat planes of the abdomen and gentle slope of hip begged for a hand to brush along them. She stepped closer, one hand lifting as if to stroke the sleeping woman, her breath suspended in anticipation. That was when she realized that she needed to escape, because any second she was going to do something very embarrassing.

Before she could move, Sloan's eyes opened, caught hers, and held. Shimmering violet embers merged into swirling blue flames, bringing Sloan to a sitting position as Michael leaned down, a force beyond volition or even thought drawing them near. Before their lips could meet, somewhere in the deep reaches of Michael's consciousness, she heard Sloan's quick intake of breath, almost a moan. At the same time she remembered Sloan's words from only a week ago, We'll both regret this tomorrow.

"Sloan", Michael whispered, her voice so thick with need she did not recognize herself, "please tell me that it's all right to kiss you, please. I don't think I can stop."

Sloan blinked, appeared to come fully awake, and collapsed back into the cushions. "Fuck, Michael, I don't know."

They stared at one another, breathing hard, skin flushed, bodies shuddering with strain. The air between them hummed with tension.

Michael closed her eyes, hands clenched at her side. She couldn't look at her, not without touching her. She was stunned and a little frightened by what she had almost done. She knew she had never wanted anyone so much - so badly, in fact, that she scarcely knew what she was doing. This was not her, and yet she had never felt more alive. She sat down on the corner of the adjoining chair, letting her hands fall into her lap. "Well, it seems like we've been here before," she said, her voice quivering. "This time, it was clearly I who was responsible. I'm sorry."

Maybe it was the forlorn regret in Michael's voice, or perhaps it was only because Sloan had wanted her since the first time she saw her, but Sloan's resistance finally crumbled. She moved swiftly, knelt before Michael, and kissed her. Firmly, surely, thoroughly. She kissed her the way she had wanted to kiss her for far too many days, the way she had dreamed of kissing her for countless nights, the way she had always known it should be. She thrilled to the soft brush of Michael's lips against hers, shivering when Michael's tongue searched gently for her own. She kept her hands securely pressed to the chair on either side of Michael, knowing that if she moved them to Michael's body, she would be lost. Already her heart was pounding and her head was light. There was a roaring in her ears that threatened to drown all reason. Every fiber of her being wanted to feel Michael's skin under her fingers, to delight in Michael's body yielding to her hands, to exult in Michael's cries rising to her touch.

Her fingers cramped from holding them tightly closed. She would not do that now, not here, not like this. A kiss was just a kiss and she just needed this one simple kiss, just this one kiss to assuage the fire of longing that had been consuming her whole. She ignored the demanding ache that tightened like a fist in her gut, so heavy she could barely breathe. When she could no longer bear the tender sweetness of Michael's mouth, nor contain the searing pressure that streamed down her thighs, spiraled into her spine, and hammered into her belly, she drew away.

"Well," Michael breathed, her eyes hazy, "that was nice."

"Yeah," Sloan grinned shakily. She too was having trouble focusing.

Neither of them moved, lest the spell be broken. Sloan leaned forward, still on her knees, her outstretched arms braced on either side of Michael’s body. Michael slowly brought her fingers to Sloan's wrist, and Sloan turned her hand until they touched. The light pressure of Michael's fingertips circling in her palm was enough to make Sloan's stomach clench. When Michael caressed her arm, then her neck and shoulder, finally bringing her palm against Sloan's chest, Sloan gritted her teeth to hold back a moan. She feared she might orgasm without even being touched.

Michael was oblivious to Sloan's plight. She was mesmerized by the feel of Sloan's muscles under her hand, and the soft promise of breast just beyond. Her thumb brushed unintentionally against Sloan's painfully taut nipple.

Sloan groaned. A pulse beat between her legs -- once, twice. She was losing it.

"Michael," she exclaimed, "Stop!"

Michael froze. Oh god, not again.

Had she been more certain of the signs, and less hurt by the recent rejection, Michael would have done what her instincts were crying out for her to do. She would have taken Sloan's face in both hands and kissed her with all the abandon of fifteen lonely years; she would have driven a possessive hand down that long flat abdomen with all the ferocity of a hunter claiming its prey; and she would have answered the simmering want between Sloan's thighs until she satisfied both their hungers. Even as she forced herself to be still, she could see the liquid need in Sloan's eyes. She could almost taste her desire.

"My god, what is it?" Michael cried. "Sloan! Tell me!"

"Please," Sloan whispered urgently, "I can't take it. You're killing me. Just -- give me a second." When she could control her unsteady legs, she forced herself to stand, took a step away, jammed her hands into her pockets to hide their trembling. "Sorry. I – sorry."

"Are you always this hard to seduce?" Michael said softly. Her own hands were shaking.

"My god, Michael, you could seduce me with a smile! In fact, you did seduce me with a smile, that very first day in the office. I've done nothing except think about you since then!"

"Then what?" Michael persisted, confused and hurt.

Michael's pain was palpable, and Sloan hated knowing that she was to blame. She spoke without thinking. "Christ, I practically came just from you kissing me!"

Secretly pleased, Michael nevertheless responded just as heatedly. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes! No -- oh, hell, I don't know!" Sloan grimaced in frustration, sweeping her arm in a circle to indicate the rest of the room, "I'm supposed to be working here, not bedding you!"

Michael ignored the edge of anger in Sloan's voice. Whatever the cause, she knew that she wasn't the target. "But that's not it, is it?"

Sloan was silent. She needed to clear her head, make some sense of what was happening. She needed to tell her. Jesus, tell her what? That I'm scared to death?

"Just give me a few more hours to get on top of this, and then we'll take a walk, talk," Sloan finally said. Something, anything, as long you don't touch me again right now.

"Deal," Michael nodded wearily, still reeling from the staggering realization of how much she wanted her. She had never dreamed it possible. She longed to say, as long as you don't go away, but she didn't dare. She didn't have the right. She would simply have to trust Sloan to come back to her.

"I'm going to find Jason and see how he's doing with the data retrieval. I might be awhile," Sloan said hesitantly. She didn't want to leave her.

"I understand," Michael said reasonably, though she was loathe to let her out of her sight.

When Sloan returned just a few moments later, Michael looked up from her desk in surprise. "Did you find him?"

"No," Sloan said with an odd expression. "Not exactly."

Sloan was still trying to dispel the image of Sarah and Jason entwined on the sofa in the lounge, very unaware of her presence. She was well beyond the point in her life when any form of sexuality could disturb her, but there had been no doubt that Sarah's hand was on Jason's fly, and that at any moment her hand would be inside his pants. While Sloan applauded their spontaneity, she had no desire to witness this degree of intimacy between her friends. She had hastily retreated.

"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.

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 heartstopping?"

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 to 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."

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 responded 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."

Sloan laughed, a wild victorious laugh, and moved Michael effortlessly to the bed. She urged her down on the edge and knelt before her. She cupped Michael's breasts, raised them for her lips, and drank of her - sucking and biting, one to the other, back and forth, guided only by Michael's sharp cries of pleasure. Michael's hands were in her hair, rocking Sloan's face into the hot yielding flesh.

"Sloan, Sloan, Sloan," she intoned, her neck arched, head flung back, hips thrusting forward against Sloan's body. She tugged at Sloan's shirt, crazed for the feel of her skin. She gasped at the first unfamiliar yet oh so familiar softness of smooth skin over tight muscles, awed by the tender strength under her fingers. Dimly, she heard Sloan groan.

Sloan stood, pushed Michael back onto the bed and lay beside her, leaning on one elbow so that she could look down the length of Michael's body. She ran her hands and then her tongue over the curves and prominences and flesh and muscle and bone of her. It was a landscape as known to her as her own body, and yet a world so new she felt the wonder of first discovery all over again. She could not get enough of her, and might have been happy simply to caress her if it hadn't been for Michael's escalating whimpers accompanying each stroke of her fingers. Michael's excitement nearly drove reason from her mind. Then Michael's fingers were on Sloan's fly, pulling at the buttons, searching for her clit through the wear-softened material, and her own need twitched relentlessly closer to explosion.

"Careful," Sloan said through gritted teeth, pulling her hips back. "Not yet."

Michael grasped Sloan's hand, her pupils so large her eyes seemed to be dark lakes of molten fire. She drew Sloan's fingers down to the place she most desperately needed her, crying out at the first light contact. "yesohyes"

Sloan convulsed with a chest-grating groan, the sweet wet warmth of Michael's welcome so intense her heart nearly stopped. That simple sign of Michael's need was more precious than anything she had ever known. All Sloan felt was the desire to please her, and in an instant the flame in her stilled to pure crimson embers, all the more hot for its containment. With gentle fingers she parted swollen tissues, stroking along, beside, and under the pulsating prominence, but never quite touching the heart of the fire.

"Inside, please inside," Michael begged, her fingers boring into Sloan's shoulders as every muscle strained toward the release of the terrible sweet tension.

Sloan lowered her forehead to Michael's, her eyes closed, gasping. She drew Michael close to her chest with one arm behind her back, and eased into her. She withdrew almost completely only to return another finger and another until she filled her. Then she remained motionless, and let Michael lead them to the summit.

Michael sought Sloan's mouth, alternately kissing and sucking at her lower lip. Her hips rocked in time to the surge of her blood and the hum in her nerves and the coiling ache in her belly, and she rode Sloan's fingers in a steadily faster rhythm. Sloan's arm ached with the effort of holding back her own overpowering urge to thrust into her, but she ignored the pain of her rigid muscles and clenched her jaws against the thundering pressure deep in her belly. This was for Michael, and she would follow her wherever she needed to go.

"almostalmost," Michael whimpered frantically, her movements erratic, shorter and harder, her hips thrusting wildly. "Need --yourfingers -- on me."

"Soonsoonlove," Sloan murmured, sensing Michael's muscles tightening for the last final surge, and as she waited for the peak, she circled the flat of her hand over Michael's clit. When she felt Michael's breath stop and her body poise on that timeless edge of abandon, she stroked the shaft once, twice and drove her over.

Michael cried out and gripped Sloan so hard that there would be bruises in the morning. The force of the contractions drew her body bowstring tight and she arched in Sloan's arms, shuddering.

"Ohgod, Michael," Sloan moaned, completely lost. Too beautiful, you are too exquisitely beautiful to bear.

Michael was beyond words, floating somewhere, deaf and blind, reduced to only quivering flesh and spasming muscle. How long she hung suspended on that crest of sensation escaped her, but eventually she was aware of her body again. She could feel the air moving in her lungs and her heart pounding in her chest and her blood coursing in her skin. She felt more alive than she had ever been, and more supremely content than she ever thought possible. She released her hold on Sloan's shoulders and collapsed back against the pillows. With effort she opened her eyes, and found Sloan's face. Sloan's look was one of tenderness, wonder, and something else. Something feral seethed in her hazy eyes and flickered just beneath the surface of her fierce expression.

"You are exquisite," Sloan declared, her voice hoarse and choked.

Michael heard the hunger in her voice and felt Sloan shudder violently against her. She sensed Sloan's need, and suddenly Michael wanted her more than she had wanted anything in her life.

"Take off your clothes! Quickly," Michael gasped, frantically tugging at the buttons on Sloan's jeans.

Michael's unexpected and undeniable lust drove Sloan to abandon her formidable control. She was suddenly burning and tore off her shirt, raising her hips as Michael pulled at her constraining jeans.

"Tell me what to do," Michael cried urgently. "Tell me what you need!" Her hands were running over Sloan's back, her chest, her abdomen, trying to feel all of her at once.

"Just touch me," Sloan groaned. "I'll come. God, I'm close!"

Michael's fingers found her clit, sliding under and over and back again and Sloan was gone, beyond reason or control. "So-so closesoclosesolongso - oh jesusgodMichaelMichael --"

Michael struggled to hold Sloan as she bucked and gasped, helpless, and so beautiful. Michael thought she had known power in the competitive world of business, but that had been nothing to compare to this. This, this was power so sweet her throat closed around tears of gratitude and wonder. "Sloan," she whispered, almost a prayer. "Oh, Sloan."

Sloan sighed as the first spasms quieted, resting her head on Michael's shoulder. "God," she mumbled, "that was so good."

"Uh huh," Michael laughed softly, stroking Sloan's sweat soaked hair off her face. "You okay?"

"Mmm," Sloan responded, trying valiantly to rouse herself. It wouldn't do to fall asleep on her. Very déclassé. She pushed up on an elbow and smiled a bit dazedly at Michael. "Beyond, okay. Excellent. You?"

Michael's smile sparkled all the way to her eyes. "I have never been better in my life."

"I'm glad," Sloan whispered, kissing her lightly. "Are you tired?"

"I could sleep," Michael admitted, suddenly aware that it was late. She did not know what the morning would bring. All she knew was that she did not want the night to end. "But I don't want to."

Sloan grinned, slow, easy and just a bit dangerously, and kissed her again. "Good."

At 10:45 AM the next morning, Michael turned from her drawing board as a soft knock at the door interrupted her. "Come in," she called.

The door swung open and Sarah peeked around the corner. "Hey," she called, a wide smile on her face. "Are you holding up okay?"

Michael leaned back from the table and sighed. "Seem to be. I have a million things to do before tomorrow's meeting, but everything is working at the moment." She watched as Sarah crossed the room and sat down on one of the sofas.

"Thank god," Sarah said. "I just talked to Jason, and he said it's looking good. Sometimes these things can take forever to get straightened out. This time you were lucky."

"I know," Michael agreed, moving over to join Sarah. "And I know how much I owe Jason and Sloan. They've been incredible."

"No, they're just doing the job they love to do. You shouldn't feel like you put them out, because you merely provided them with an interesting game to play. I'm amazed that either of them stopped long enough to sleep last night." She didn't add that she had noticed both Michael and Sloan were absent at the same time, nor did she volunteer that Jason had spent a good part of the evening with her.

"Have you seen Sloan this morning?" Michael asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Unfortunately her heart was pounding just from saying her name. They had parted only a short time before, but it seemed to Michael it had been days.

"She's in the communications center with Jason, supervising the final system checks and satisfying herself that everything is running okay. Did you need her?" Sarah asked innocently.

Michael almost laughed out loud at the question, thinking, Need her? Oh yes, that seems to be the word for it all right!

She couldn't stop herself from thinking that only a few hours before she had awakened from a light doze, startled in the first moments of awareness to feel Sloan beside her. Then in the next instant she knew where she was and remembered every second of the incredible night in Technicolor detail. An avalanche of desire coursed through her on the coattails of memory, and she was immediately completely aroused. It was such a foreign sensation, she didn't know what to do. When she opened her eyes she found Sloan lying quietly beside her, gazing at her with a look that melted Michael's heart. She could recall every word they had said and every emotion she had experienced as if it had been etched on her skin and burned into her soul.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep," she whispered.

Sloan smiled, a tender gentle smile. "I think that's supposed to happen when you've been awake all night, especially when you've been awake all night making love."

Michael blushed, partly because it was all so new to her, and partly because she wanted to do it all again - immediately. She asked quietly, "Did you sleep?"

Sloan shook her head. "No, I didn't want to miss a moment with you."

"I can't decide if your words or your touch are more beautiful," Michael whispered, leaning close to find Sloan's lips with her own. Her physical arousal had seemed so powerful just a moment ago, but the feelings Sloan's tenderness evoked were even more compelling. Michael's kiss was part wonder, part gratitude, and part simple appreciation for the affectionate attention and careful way Sloan had loved her over the past hours. She couldn't imagine a more sensitive lover, or a more thoughtful one.

"Thank you so much for last night," Michael murmured, unconsciously pressing closer until her breasts nestled against Sloan's, and her thigh rested on Sloan's leg.

Sloan stopped kissing her long enough to respond, "Michael, please don't thank me. This night has been special to me, and you have been wonderful."

Michael thought only to continue kissing her, but as the kiss deepened and they sought each other with their lips and their tongues and their hands, Sloan rolled on top of her, straddling Michael's hips, rising up on her elbows to look into Michael's face. Sloan's voice was raspy with urgency as she said, "Michael, I want you again, so much. I can't seem to get enough."

Michael knew only that she wanted her close, and guided by instinct, she reached for Sloan's hips, pulling her down hard onto her own tensed thigh, watching in wonder as Sloan arched her back and groaned. Michael pressed upward, thrilling to the sensation of Sloan thrusting back, and the rhythm began as naturally as breathing. Michael kept one hand on Sloan's hips as she explored Sloan's breasts with the other, cupping each one, losing herself in the soft flesh and firm muscles, glorying in the heat of her.

Sloan's movements became erratic, harder, just a bit frantic, and she braced herself on her arms to look into Michael's eyes. Her voice was tight as if she were straining to form each word. It was an image of such intensity, and such intimacy, that Michael ached.

"Michael," Sloan managed, her face intent, her eyes cloudy with urgency, "I'm going to come."

Michael's heart surged with something as close to ecstasy as she had ever known. She gripped Sloan's hips tighter, and she pushed into Sloan's hard hot wetness. She shouted, triumphant. "Yes! Yesyesyes!"

Sloan's lids fluttered closed and she groaned, her arms stiff and her legs tight around Michael's thigh. She held herself upright through sheer strength as her body rippled with tension and then convulsed, wrenching one sharp cry from her.

Michael forgot to breathe for long minutes as she gazed in absolute wonder at Sloan's face. She was dimly aware of her own passion surging through her belly and her legs, but nothing she was feeling could equal what she saw.

At last, Sloan dropped her head, her arms finally relaxing, and she lowered herself to lie on Michael's body, trembling, heartbreakingly helpless. Michael held her, stroked her damp hair and her neck and her back, suddenly experiencing a fierce protectiveness she had never before imagined. She understood in that moment what it meant to want someone more than life. She understood in that moment what it meant to need someone in the deepest reaches of her being.

Need her? The words echoed in her mind. Oh yes, I need her.

"Michael?"

Michael jumped, and suddenly was aware of her surroundings again. Sarah was looking at her with an expression of perplexity and mild concern.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked gently.

Michael laughed shakily, running a hand through her hair. "God, I have no idea. I have only the faintest idea of who I am or what I'm doing these days."

Sarah studied her, thinking that she looked tired but somehow she didn't think Michael's distraction and disorientation were due to fatigue. This was something else, something powerfully emotional. And then she remembered the question she had asked just before Michael drifted away. Sloan.

"It's Sloan, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's Sloan, and me. It's me, too."

"What's happened now?" Sarah asked, immediately protective, thinking that if Sloan had done something to hurt Michael's feelings, she would have to kill her. Michael was too kind and too innocent for Sloan to treat her in the casual way she did most women. Not that she believed for a minute that Sloan was cold-hearted or indifferent about her romantic partners, but she knew that Sloan studiously avoided any real emotional attachments, and Michael deserved much more than that.

"She hasn't done anything," Michael said quickly, recognizing the edge of concern in Sarah's voice. "It's just that so many things have changed so quickly lately."

"You slept with her, didn't you?" Sarah said, suddenly realizing that Michael was manifesting all the signs of a woman totally lost in love.

Michael colored, but nodded affirmatively.

Sarah groaned faintly "Oh god, I guess I don't have to ask you how it was."

Michael laughed and blushed even deeper. "No, there wouldn't be any point to it. I don't even have the words to describe it."

Great," Sarah said with resignation. "Things are even worse than I thought."

"Sarah," Michaels said, suddenly serious. "Sloan was not responsible. In fact, I think if I hadn't literally chased her down, she would have done anything to avoid sleeping with me. I just wanted her so much."

Sarah didn't think Michael understood how significant her words were. If Sloan had been avoiding a sexual relationship with Michael, it could only be because Sloan had real feelings for her. Sarah had no idea how Sloan was going to react to a woman who she cared about, but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be simple.

"Are you okay with that?" Sarah asked. "Sleeping with her, I mean?"

"Am I okay with that?" Michaels said, her voice pensive. "I'm as okay as I can be I guess. I had an incredible experience with her. I've felt things I've never felt in my life. I can’t stop thinking about her, I can't stop wanting to be with her again. I have no idea what this means for me or what it means to her."

"I'm certainly the last one to give advice," Sarah said quietly, thinking that she had been the one surprised when Jason had whispered not yet last night when she had reached for him. "I know in her heart Sloan is a good and honorable person. I love her, and I would trust her with my life. Be patient with her, Michael. This might be hard for her, too."

Michael remembered the look on Sloan's face when they had parted that morning, standing once again in Michael's office. For a moment, she thought Sloan had been about to say something, and the look on her face had been one of longing and desire. Instead, Sloan had reached out and stroked Michael's cheek, leaning finally to kiss her lips in a soft caress. Only then did she whisper, "No matter what happens, last night will always be precious to me."

Michael had merely nodded, afraid that what Sloan had really meant was good-bye.

Sloan found Jason in the communication center in very nearly the same place she had left him twenty-four hours previously. He did seem to have showered and changed his clothes and still managed to look fresh after what couldn't have been much sleep. She avoided contemplating where he had spent the night.

"Have we got it fixed?" she asked as she crossed the room and pulled a chair over next to him.

"As much as we possibly can, short of installing voice or fingerprint-recognition devices," he muttered without taking his eyes off the symbols on the screen.

Sloan looked at him with interest. "Do we have that?"

"No, but the Pentagon does," he answered with a grin.

Sloan grinned too. "We still have some friends in that neighborhood, don't we?"

Jason turned, giving her a stern look. "We do, and I think we should work on keeping them for a while. Trying to pirate national security level toys probably isn't the best way to do it - not until we really need them at least."

She sighed, nodding in agreement. "Probably a good point. I've told Michael she can go ahead and start working. She has to get into the system to finish what she needs before her deadline tomorrow."

"She should be all right. I'm just giving it a final run through. I think everything is as clean and tight as we can make it. I still have back checking on the virus origins to do, but that shouldn't interfere with what she's doing. I made copies of the code to analyze on the guinea pig machine back at the office."

"You'd better check in with her tomorrow and the next day to make sure she hasn't run into any difficulties. Let her know that you'll be available day or night if something comes up." Sloan wouldn't rest easy until Michael's deadlines had come and gone uneventfully. Although they didn't have any proof yet, and most likely never would, she felt pretty certain that Michael's husband had been behind the recent attempt to sabotage the system, and she was worried he might try again.

Jason shifted his concentration from the monitor, studying her curiously. "If there some reason you won't be calling her? That is your department, the troubleshooting. After this weekend, I'll be more than happy to get back to the office. I don't mind backing you up in an emergency, but the business end of things is easier on my social life."

Her expression was unreadable and her violet eyes so dark they approached black. "Just do it, please, Jason," she said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, if anything, about Michael. She hadn't expected last night to ever happen, and she surely had not anticipated her reaction to it. She had learned to accept the comfort of another in her bed as a momentary surcease from loneliness and a temporary antidote to isolation, but she never again expected to be really touched by someone. That had been just fine, because she never again wanted to be vulnerable to the vagaries of another's affections. But Michael, Michael was different. She was so genuine and open and so totally without guile that Sloan found herself caring about her before she realized it was happening. Michael had reached in and touched her heart before she could stop her. And now the places Michael had touched ached for her. Sloan flinched without meaning to, and tried to put Michael from her mind. "I'll leave you to finish up."

Jason wanted to say more, but there was something about her expression that warned him off. Usually, he did not hesitate to take Sloan to task for what he considered her uncivilized behavior in personal relationships. As much as she knew about his past, he knew about hers. They had shared each other's betrayal as well as their nearly simultaneous professional discrediting. They almost never spoke of it, but he knew first hand how long the pain could linger. Whatever the situation with Michael, he had a feeling it was far more serious than Sloan wanted to admit. This time, he sensed her still unhealed wounds very near the surface. Her eyes were haunted with old hurts.

Until a short time ago he would have agreed with her reluctance to become seriously involved, to take that risk again. But meeting Sarah had changed everything about how he viewed matters of the heart. Sarah was teaching him that it was possible to be safe, even while exposing his deepest secrets. Even though he hadn't been ready last night for sex, and had worried that his reluctance would be seen as rejection, Sarah had understood even that. He had found a note that Sarah had left with his car keys on her way out of his apartment. She had written: "Ask Jasmine if she'll go out dancing with me Friday night."

It had taken Sarah and her singular sensitivity to lead him to the point of trust. It didn't seem so impossible to him now that someone could do the same for Sloan. In fact, having watched Michael and Sloan together over the past weeks, he had seen an entirely different Sloan when she was around Michael. There was a tenderness and vulnerability about her that he had never seen before. It was almost as if Michael, without even realizing it, had awakened those parts of Sloan that she had kept hidden from everyone, including herself.

"Sloan?"

Sloan turned at the door and looked back, a question on her face.

"Michael will wonder why you don't call," he said, unwilling to let her go without trying to change her mind. Loneliness was a heartless companion. He knew.

She stared at him, wondering if by some strange sixth sense, he knew just how significant that statement was. She wasn’t thinking about business, but the night that she and Michael had shared as she answered quietly, "I know, Jason. But maybe it's the best thing."

*

When, after five minutes, Sarah had managed to land two respectable blows solidly on Sloan's jaw as well as executing a leg sweep that knocked her definitively on her ass, Sarah stepped back out of fighting range, dropped her hands and stared at her friend.

"Would you like to tell me where your mind is?"

Sloan shook her head, getting slowly to her feet. "It's nothing. Come on, let's spar."

It was Sarah's turn to shake her head no. "Sloan, you know how much I love an opportunity to beat up on you, but it's no fun when you're defenseless. What's wrong?"

Sloan's first impulse was to deny any problem. She didn't want to think about anything, let alone try to explain her state of mind to Sarah. Sarah was too damn perceptive and too damn persistent to let anything go. The moment Sarah noticed the slightest bit of inconsistency or evasiveness, she patiently worked away at it until the whole damn barricade fell, and every secret you ever had was laid bare for her inspection. Granted, she had always been kind and usually gave Sloan just the support she needed, but this was one time Sloan did not want to hear what Sarah had to say.

"If you don't want to spar, let's just lift for a while," Sloan grumbled, turning toward the door that led into the weight room. She was surprised when she felt Sarah's hand on her arm, restraining her gently. She sighed and looked over her shoulder at her friend. Sarah's eyes were affectionate and reassuring.

"Come on Sloan. I know damn well something's going on, and I'm pretty sure I know what it is. It's Wednesday night, and you haven't been into the office all week. Jason told me this morning that you've been AWOL since Sunday afternoon. Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not especially. Do I have a choice?" Sloan said more sharply than she intended.

"You always have a choice, but sometimes you're too pig-headed and stubborn to see it," Sarah retorted, a slight smile on her face.

Sloan sighed, crossed to the side of the room and flopped down on a pile of exercise mats that had been stacked along the wall. Sarah joined her and waited expectantly.

"It's nothing as dramatic as you're imagining," Sloan said at length. "We've been running at a fast pace all spring, and after this last project with Michael, I just wanted a little break." She was amazed that she could mention Michael's name without stumbling, because thinking about Michael made her pulse pound, and saying her name out loud brought a lump to her throat. She had in fact spent the better part of three days trying not to think about her. That had been largely unsuccessful, since there were only so many things she could find to occupy her mind, and even then her concentration was sketchy. At least a dozen times an hour she would find herself glancing at the clock, wondering if Michael were in a meeting, and how her project presentations were going, and whether or not Jeremy had appeared on the scene to cause more problems. At least twice an hour she would find herself with the phone in her hand, ready to call Jason for an update. Each time she had gently placed the phone back in its cradle, realizing that if she took one step in Michael's direction, she would not be able to stop. And she wasn't sure that was a good idea at all. The problem was, she wasn't sure of anything, and that was as confusing to her as anything else that had happened since meeting Michael. She ran her hands through her hair and closed her eyes.

"Uh huh," Sarah responded agreeably, choosing not to comment on Sloan's obvious distress. "A break. I could buy that if it were anyone but you. I can't remember the last time you voluntarily took a break. Does this have to do with Michael?"

Sloan sighed. "Most of it."

"Look Sloan, I'm not trying to pry into your personal life, it's just that I really care about you and Michael. You're one of my oldest friends, and I've loved you for a long time. I haven't known Michael very long at all, but it's easy to care about her. Sometimes when you become involved so quickly with someone, especially during a crisis, you get to know them better than people you've known for years. If it makes it any easier, I already know that you slept with her."

Sloan looked at her quickly. "Michael told you?"

"She didn't have to," Sarah said with a soft laugh. "It was pretty obvious that something major had happened to her, and I guessed. She has feelings for you, Sloan, and I have a suspicion that it's reciprocal."

"That's the problem," Sloan said. "She's not like the other women I’ve been with. She doesn't have any experience with this kind of thing, and I'm afraid --" her voice trailed off, as she tried to analyze what she had been avoiding for so long. What exactly am I afraid of?

Sarah nudged Sloan's leg with her foot affectionately. "I agree that she's inexperienced, Sloan, but I don't think she's naive. She's an extraordinarily intelligent and successful woman, and she has been remarkably calm during something that would throw most of us completely off balance. She has managed to deal with her husband's threats, and still do the work she's needed to, and handled all of her feelings for you, too. That's an amazing accomplishment, and I think you're doing her a disservice to think she doesn't know exactly what this means."

When her comments were met with silence, Sarah continued quietly, "Don't try to second guess her, Sloan. I can understand how hard it must be for you to trust her. I know how hard it's been for me, and I haven't experienced the kind of horrible betrayal that you did. But do you plan to spend the rest of your life having casual sex with women you don't really care about?"

Sloan eyed her angrily, her temper dangerously close to erupting. She was about to object to Sarah's rather harsh characterization when she realized that Sarah had only been stating the truth.

"Some people aren't meant for relationships," Sloan stated flatly. "I seem to be getting along fine the way things are."

Sarah nodded. "Maybe you're right, but I don't think so, Sloan. I know you, and I know how tender and caring you can be. If you weren't, I don't believe Michael would have fallen in love with you."

Sloan started as if struck. "Did she say that?"

Sarah stood, offering Sloan a hand up. "That's my reading of the situation, but you'll have to ask her. Jason has been on the phone with her several times the last couple of days, checking to make sure she wasn't having any problems. I invited her to go out with Jasmine and I on Friday night. I decided if I were ever going to get Jason to believe I was crazy about him, I'd have to prove it to Jasmine, too. We're all going dancing at Chances. You know where it is, and if you want to know the answer to that question, why not come by and ask her yourself."

Sloan followed her wordlessly into the weight room, thinking about the cost of dreams and the price of passion.

Sloan sat in her car across the street from Chances, watching Friday night revelers come and go. She had been debating going inside for at least twenty minutes. She knew what the problem was and wasn't particularly proud of herself. If she went inside, she would see Michael. She would have to speak with her, and there was no way that she could see her and talk to her without acknowledging what had happened between them. And once she did that, she would be forced to confront her own feelings. That was the wall that she had run into over and over again for the last six days. Every time she got close to admitting what she felt, something close to terror welled up inside her and threatened to choke her. She recognized it, even understood it, but could not seem to control it.

There was nothing about Michael that reminded her of Elise. True, they were both successful, highly intelligent, and forceful professionally, but there the similarity ended. Where Elise had been icily sophisticated and emotionally remote, Michael was immensely approachable and amazingly sensitive. She had captured Sloan's attention from the very first, and not long after, her mind and body as well.

Nevertheless, Sloan was afraid. She was afraid of caring, even though the ache of missing Michael these last few days was worse than any pain she could remember enduring, including the humiliating weekend of incarceration. Still, the rational parts of her mind could not carry her beyond the scars, and now she sat paralyzed. She wanted more than anything to see Michael, yet feared the instant when she looked across the room and knew with certainty that Michael held the keys to her happiness.

Ultimately, it was something Jason had said just that afternoon that decided her. He had casually mentioned that Sarah and Jasmine had a hot date that evening when Sloan had asked him to bring the semi-annual financial reports up to date for her review.

"Yes, I know," she had said. Trying to sound only moderately interested she then continued, "Isn't Michael supposed to be going with you?"

"Last I heard," he answered, maddeningly secretive. "And I hope I won't be doing anything remotely resembling work this weekend."

Sloan struggled not to ask for details. "How do you feel about Sarah and Jasmine going out?"

There had been silence for a few seconds, and then Jason's quiet voice replied, "A little scared. But too much of me wants this not to take a chance. Sarah is special, and I don't expect anyone like her to come along again. I can't afford not to trust her."

Sloan stared across street, knowing that Michael was special too, and believing in her heart that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't take a chance. She couldn't afford not to.

As she stepped from the car, she heard someone call her name. She crossed the street looking up and down the crowded sidewalk, her gaze finally finding Diane Carson, who stood waiting for her beside the entrance to the club. Sloan made her way to her, nodding in greeting.

"Hello, Diane. How are you?"

Diane Carson smiled ever so slightly and shrugged. "Better than the last time we met. Still looking for Ms. Right, but I haven't made an ass of myself in at least a couple of weeks. I do owe you an apology."

Sloan shook her head. "No, you don't. I wasn't exactly innocent in the whole deal either. Sometimes it's easy to fool yourself into thinking you have no responsibility for the way other people feel, but I think that might just be a convenient excuse. I'm sorry for the way things turned out, too."

Diane studied her curiously, surprised by the contemplative tone in her voice. It would be much easier to forget JT Sloan if she weren't so attractive standing there in her black jeans and crisp white shirt, maddeningly sexy in her utter disregard for external trappings. "Sorry enough to give it another try?" Diane said lightly, but resting her hand on Sloan's forearm to convey she was still quite serious. "No strings attached this time. I promise."

"I don't think that would be a very good idea," Sloan said, knowing that she could never go back to a casual affair. No matter how hard she tried to set boundaries, people still got hurt, and some of that was her responsibility. Beyond that, she knew that after what she had experienced with Michael, nothing would ever reach the places in her that needed to be touched. Michael had awakened those needs, and after their night together, anything else would be an empty charade. She reached for the door, and said, "Can I buy you a drink for old time's sake, though?"

Diane smiled in gracious defeat and took her arm, saying, "I think one is about my limit these days. But thanks, I accept."

*

Across the room, Michael saw them come in. After a brief instant of pulse pounding excitement that accompanied her first look at Sloan in six days, her heart plummeted in disappointment. Sloan was with Diane Carson, and now she knew why Sloan hadn't called. The first few times the phone had rung after she and Sloan had been together, she answered with near breathless anticipation, her skin alive with the memory of Sloan's touch. As the days passed her excitement turned to confusion, and finally coalesced into a hard ache of rejection. She had tried to keep busy with meetings and the last-minute details of her projects, and for a while she had been able to relegate her disappointment to the back of her mind. As the week wore on, however, she thought more and more of Sloan. If that weren't bad enough, her entire body seemed to be reacting to their night together in a fashion completely foreign to her. It was as if some hunger, held at bay for years, had suddenly been awakened. Now she was besieged by an almost insatiable need to see Sloan, hear her voice, feel her touch. Michael had to restrain herself from picking up the phone and asking Sloan what the silence meant.

Michael looked at Sloan standing with Diane and reminded herself that she had practically begged Sloan for the one night they had shared. She had assured Sloan that she knew what she was doing, had promised that one night would be enough. God, how stupid she had been! That one night was like a single drop of rain in the desert. Sweet, sweet torture. And not nearly enough.

Michael turned away, unable to watch as the stately brunette pressed close to Sloan in the crowd at the bar, draping one hand casually around Sloan's waist as she reached for the drink the bartender offered.

Michael glanced anxiously over the crowded dance floor for Sarah. She needed to find her, tell her this was a mistake. She couldn't stay here, not with Sloan so near and her own emotions so out of control. It had seemed so harmless when Sarah suggested she go along – something to get her away from the office and out of her hotel room, Sarah had said. Sarah had even hinted that she would appreciate the company on her first 'date' with Jasmine. Michael hadn't considered that being surrounded by women holding other women, dancing with each other, sharing small caresses with each other, would be painful, but it was. Even seeing the first hesitant touches between Sarah and Jasmine had been bittersweet. She had been happy for them, and at the same time acutely aware of her own deep longing for Sloan. She might have managed to contain the pain if Sloan hadn't actually appeared. Now she was afraid her agony would turn to tears.

Across the room Sloan turned from the bar, beer in hand, and surveyed the dancers. She hadn't been out since first meeting Michael, and she suddenly realized how uninterested she was in the too familiar mating rituals being played out everywhere around her. What had once filled a need now seemed strangely devoid of meaning. She couldn't help thinking that her affairs had only been an excuse to avoid her own despair, to deny just how very much it had hurt. That was one of the things she loved about Michael, how she refused to run from disappointment, no matter how hard it was.

Jesus! What am I saying! She thought with a jolt. Love her?

"Did you say something?" Diane shouted above the din of voices and music.

Sloan jerked out of her reverie. "No. Nothing."

As the room came into focus again, she spied a familiar figure. Slender, long-legged, unashamedly seductive in short leather skirt and a black lycra top, Jasmine moved on the dance floor with the same sensuous grace that had first attracted Sloan's attention years before in a similar smoke-clouded club. She suddenly realized why Jasmine had been able to fool her so successfully the first time they met. When Jasmine wasn't performing, her appearance was subtly different. What makeup she wore was carefully applied to highlight her eyes and sculpted cheekbones and to accentuate her lips, but it was far from the stage makeup that she wore professionally. Out of costume in normal clothing, Jasmine appeared unquestionably female. Sloan watched with just a tinge of envy as Jasmine and Sarah danced. The beat was heavy and fast, a backdrop of pulsation to match the barely contained sexuality seething through the couples on the crowded floor. Jasmine and Sarah's eyes were locked as their bodies surged with a seductive rhythm echoing the evocative tempo. Sarah wore jeans and a tight cotton T-shirt, and anyone looking at them would've thought her to be the butch member of the pair. Sloan smiled faintly to herself, thinking how often perceptions could be wrong, thinking too that very often the truth could not be known, only experienced.

She began searching for Michael and saw her moving towards the door. Sloan couldn't tell from across the room, but it looked like she might have been crying. "Excuse me," she said abruptly and as she set her beer back on the bar. She pushed quickly into the crowd and made it to the exit only a few steps behind Michael.

Once outside on the sidewalk she looked hurriedly up and down the street, and saw her nearly half a block away. "Michael!" she shouted, starting to run. She caught up to her quickly and stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Michael," she said gently. Being so close to her brought an ache to her chest. God, she was beautiful!

Michael turned, quickly brushing the last of her tears from her cheeks. "Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Sloan answered, her throat dry. She peered into Michael's face intently, noting the wounded expression Michael was struggling to hide. "What is it?" Sloan questioned quietly, slipping her fingers down Michael's arm and into her hand. Seeing Michael in pain tore holes in her heart.

"Nothing," Michael replied, smiling ruefully. "I just had a bad moment there. It's been a tough few weeks."

"It's been a tough few months," Sloan agreed, gazing deep into Michael's eyes. She didn't notice the people stepping around them as they stood in the center of the sidewalk, bathed in the streetlight's pale golden glow. "But it's been an amazing few weeks, too."

Michael had to fight to concentrate on Sloan's words. She was mesmerized by the feel of Sloan so near, and the faint tantalizing smell of her, and the heat that poured from Sloan's fingertips as they lightly brushed her own. Michael watched Sloan's lips move and imagined them on her skin. She remembered their kisses, and longed for more. "What do you mean?" she asked, surprised by how hard it was to speak.

Sloan knew Michael was waiting to hear her answer, and she knew why. Until now, Michael had taken all the chances – she had been willing to say what she felt, and what she wanted. Michael had risked rejection and she had defied convention. It was time for Sloan to match Michael's courage and take a risk for her.

"You happened to me," Sloan whispered, stepping closer, her lips a breath away. "You swept into my life and stole my heart."

"Sloan," Michael murmured, her voice hushed with desire. "Oh, Sloan."

Sloan did kiss her then, a long careful kiss, just their lips tenderly exploring, their bodies bending to one another but not quite touching. It was as if they both knew that any more contact and they would forget exactly where they were.

"Way to go," someone cheered as a small crowd of women shouldered past on their way to the club. Sloan finally broke the kiss, and Michael smiled up at her tremulously.

"We seem to be making a spectacle of ourselves," Michael remarked, but didn't make any move to step away.

"Mmm," Sloan agreed, thinking that she wanted to taste Michael's lips again. Had anything ever been so sweet?

"You might invite me back to see the view from your loft," Michael said, her fingers trailing along the edge of Sloan's jaw. Sloan shuddered lightly and Michael felt a lightning surge of desire. "Say yes. Hurry."

"Oh god, yes," Sloan grated, grasping Michael's hand and pulling her toward her car.

"Sarah will wonder where I am," Michael declared urgently, even as she kept pace with Sloan.

"Don't worry," Sloan replied, fumbling her keys out of her pocket. "She'll be too busy tonight to worry."

Michael didn't answer; she simply slid into the seat, slid her hand along Sloan's thigh, and leaned over to kiss her neck. "So will I."

"Sloan?"

Sloan turned to gaze at Michael, who stood just inside the doors of the loft. Michael looked uncertain, and terribly vulnerable. Sloan's heart ached to see it, and she wanted to go to her and kiss the fear from her eyes. "What is it?" Sloan asked her gently.

Michael searched Sloan's face. Seeing the kindness and tenderness, she remembered Sloan's gentle touch and found the courage to continue. "What does this mean? Our being here?" She hesitated, her voice catching on the words. "Because I don't think I'll be able to forget you after this."

Sloan stood very still, struggling for the strength to accept the truth. "It means we--" she stopped, aware of the lingering fears hammering at her. She turned her mind from the memories, clinging instead to the image of Michael in her arms. "It means I want you, Michael. It means I need you. It means I will do anything I possibly can never to hurt you." She swallowed, then took a step closer to the woman who had captured her heart. "It means I love you, more than you will ever know."

Michael smiled, a tremulous smile that reflected the tears in her eyes. She crossed the remaining space between them, reaching for Sloan, threading her arms around Sloan's waist and nestling her head against Sloan's shoulder. "How is it you always know what to say?"

Sloan's arms closed around her, one hand gently stroking her hair. She laughed a little unsteadily. "For some reason, being near you makes it easy to say the things I feel. Even when they scare me to death, I can't stop them from coming out." She kissed the top of Michael's head, then reached gently to lift Michael's chin in the palm of her hand, gazing deep into her clear blue eyes.

"I love you, Michael Lassiter. So very much."

Michael smiled again, a full smile now that illuminated her features with hope and happiness. She brushed her lips across Sloan's, and echoed softly, "I love you, JT Sloan. So very much."

Suddenly, there was no longer any need for words. Each could feel the truth in the other's embrace. Michael pressed close, caressing Sloan's shoulders, her chest, her back. Their lips met as Sloan drew Michael's blouse from beneath the waistband of her skirt, running her hands over the soft skin she bared. She kept her mouth on Michael's, her hands rising to Michael's breasts, freeing them, starved for the feel of her flesh. Michael eased back enough to get her hands between their bodies and pulled at the buttons of Sloan's fly. She stroked Sloan's abdomen, running her fingers along the edges of the quivering muscles, desperately pushing at Sloan's jeans, trying to touch more of her. They twisted together, thrashing on twin hooks of desire, their kisses voracious, their hands greedy - hot and hungry and wild.

Sloan pulled away first, gasping, her stomach knotted with need so heavy she could barely stand. They were nearly naked in the middle of her living room, clothes in various stages of disarray. Sloan's hands shook where they lay on Michael's desire-dampened skin. Michael's face was flushed, her blue eyes cloudy with lust, and she moaned when Sloan's lips left hers.

"No," Michael protested, reaching for her again.

"Michael," Sloan groaned as Michael's fingers slid down the front of her jeans. Her knees buckled and she almost fell. "Michael, wait! Bedroom, now, or we'll end up right here on the floor!"

Michael was on fire. The only thing she wanted was to feel her and taste her and consume her until the famine of a lifetime was satisfied, and then she wanted it again. "Hurry. I want you so much," she gasped.

They half stumbled across the floor, still embracing, shedding the rest of their clothes as they went. Reaching the edge of the bed, they tumbled onto the covers in a tangle of arms and legs. They couldn't seem to get close enough as limbs clasped and breasts cleaved and everywhere they licked and sucked and fought to join. Their groans echoed throughout the room until the air was thick with their passion.

"I can't stand it," Michael moaned, reaching between Sloan's thighs to find the heat and the wetness she craved, stroking through the swollen tissues, entering her deeply, than easing out to tantalize her with light touches and teasing caresses. Sloan tried to roll onto her, wanting her more than she wanted to be pleasured, but Michael stopped her, stronger than Sloan had imagined.

"No," Michael murmured, sliding inside again, reaching some place beyond the physical with her hands and her eyes and her pure selfless desire. "No, I want you. I want you. Trust me, please."

Sloan fell back, surrendering, giving her body and letting go, finally, of the pain. "Yes," she whispered, the word ending in a small choked cry. Michael's mouth was at her throat, biting lightly, then moving lower, over her breasts, down the center of her abdomen, pressing into the soft skin at the base of her belly. Sloan's hands found Michael's hair, then her cheek, as she lifted her hips in silent offering. She waited, the breath stilled in her chest, her blood poised to burn, for the touch that would set her free.

Michael paused, awestruck with wonder, as Sloan arched and grew taut, shudderingly close to exploding. She closed her eyes in gratitude and told Sloan with her mouth and her tongue and her arms wrapped tightly around Sloan's hips how very much she loved her. And when Sloan grew full and hard and the bands of her restraint broke with a deep groan, Michael continued to glory in her until all that existed in that room was the perfect harmony of their blood and their breath and the beat of their hearts.

*

Sloan awoke in darkness, streetlights casting pale flickering shadows over the bed. Michael's head lay on her shoulder, and the soft weight of Michael's breast filled her palm. Even in near blackness, Michael's hair shown golden against her luminescent skin, giving her the look of a sleeping angel. Sloan ran her fingers through the silken strands, thinking about miracles and second chances. She realized that even in the first blush of love with Elise she had never felt so connected, nor so damn lucky. Maybe it took losing to understand what it meant to win. She sighed without knowing it, pulling Michael closer.

Michael lay quietly, listening to the comforting, steady rhythm of Sloan's heart, basking in the tender attention of Sloan's caresses. The second time she heard Sloan sigh, she asked, "What's bothering you?"

"Did I wake you?" Sloan murmured, kissing the tip of her ear.

"No," Michael replied, snuggling a little closer, one hand resting lightly against Sloan's abdomen. She smiled when the muscles jumped at her touch. "And don't change the subject."

Sloan grinned to herself. "I was just thinking that I almost didn't let this happen. I was too stubborn to see that what I thought was love, years ago, never was at all."

Michael shifted until she lay on top of Sloan, raising up on her elbows and gazing into her face. "Don't. You were young and you were innocent, and there's no blame in that. We're here together now, and that's all that matters."

"I love you," Sloan whispered, liking the sound of it.

"That works out well then," Michael responded as she brought her lips close to Sloan's. "Because I love you, too."

It was slower this time, but no less powerful. When kisses weren't enough to quiet the fires, they shifted to face each other, trading languid strokes and teasing caresses as they stared into each other's eyes. When the matching pools of liquid desire deepened to overflowing, Michael arched her hips to take all of Sloan inside of her, murmuring, "Soon."

"Uh huh," Sloan groaned, as the pressure began to build and pound in the pit of her belly. She clenched her jaws and tried to hold on.

Michael began to tremble lightly, her eyelids fluttering closed for long seconds as her teeth caught at her lower lip, then her eyes opened wide as her hips jerked hard into Sloan's hand.

"Ohgod," she cried just before her head snapped back and her voice tripped over the sudden spasm that gripped her.

The sound of Michael's pleasure was all it took to carry Sloan beyond her limits, and she surrendered with a sharp cry as tongues of fire swept through her muscles and along her nerves to burn a white-hot path into her brain. She was beyond words, able only to emit a series of broken groans.

Michael eventually found her voice, and whispered, "I've never felt anything like that before."

Sloan brushed at the tears on her own cheeks, and replied, "Neither have I."

Michael sighed, and tucked her head under Sloan's chin, fitting herself into every curve of Sloan's body. "That's all right then, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," Sloan murmured on the edge of sleep. "Just right."

When they awoke again, still wrapped in one another's arms, it was fully light. Sloan smiled at Michael, a slow easy smile of undisguised satiation. "Good morning."

"Morning," Michael responded, amazed to find herself where she had scarcely dared dream she would ever be. Hearing the warmth in Sloan's greeting and feeling the heat of their bodies pressed close together, she realized it was better than any dream. "Is there any particular morning-after ritual I should know about?"

Sloan's contagious grin widened. "Well, let's see, there's the part where we shower together and take a little extra time to get reacquainted. And then there's the part where we fix breakfast and in between clearing up and reading the paper we come back here for a little more intimate activity, and then maybe, just maybe, sometime later we get dressed."

It was Michael's turn to grin. "Sounds lovely. However, I think we need to do the breakfast part before the shower and those other wonderful activities, because I'm starving."

"I think I can arrange that," Sloan said, kissing her lightly, enjoying waking up together for the first time and sharing the first hours of the day. It was a pleasure she had long forgotten.

Just as they were about to get up, the phone rang. Sloan stared at it, debating answering it. She couldn't think of anyone important enough to interrupt this moment for, but she didn't want it to ring again at a more indelicate time either. She reached for it, thinking Better now than later.

"Sloan," she said.

"Ah, Sloan," Sarah's familiar voice responded. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Actually, yes," Sloan responded, pulling Michael close.

A soft laugh came to her through the line. Then Sarah said, "I thought I might be. I saw you come in last night, and the next thing I knew both Michael and you were missing. I hope that means something."

"Oh yes, it definitely means something," Sloan murmured, her eyes on Michael's lips. They were full, slightly swollen from the kisses the previous night, and the sight of those lips reminded her of how they felt on her skin. Sloan's heart stuttered in her chest. She glanced away because she didn't trust herself to form words while looking at Michael.

"My, my," Sarah continued with her teasing. "People will talk!"

"Jasmine was looking quite stunning last evening," Sloan managed, ignoring the taunt and giving Sarah some of her own medicine. She was willing to bet that she and Michael weren’t the only ones to raise eyebrows the night before.

It was Sarah's turn for silence. Then, her voice husky, she responded, "Yes, she was quite amazing. Beautiful, every step of the way."

In her mind, Sarah was replaying those first moments alone with Jasmine as they faced one another in the quiet of her bedroom. The hesitancy, the shy press of clad bodies as they kissed, both of them shaking. She wasn't sure which of them had been more nervous. Jasmine removed the short black wig and Sarah ran her hands through the slightly shorter golden hair beneath, amazed at the subtle shift from wholly feminine to androgynous that simple act produced. When she had reached under Jasmine's tight black top to release her bra, she thought for an instant that Jasmine would stop her, a swift tightening of muscle and sharp intake of breath warning of Jasmine's fear.

"It's all right," Sarah had whispered, running her tongue lightly up Jasmine's neck as she lifted the top and undergarment off together. In the faint glow of the bedside light, the exposed chest showed smooth and hairless, shimmering with a light sheen of sweat as androgyny transformed into maleness. As she ran her fingers over the clearly defined muscles, Jason quivered.

Sarah had scarcely noticed gentle hands removing her own blouse until their skin met and their bodies pressed urgently together. She glanced to the side and saw their reflection in the mirror, both of them nude from the waist up, naked breasts to bare chest, one in jeans, the other in skirt and stockings, images not only reversed but completely exchanged. She watched the reflection as she lifted the leather skirt, slid one hand beneath and found the sheer thong, clasping the fullness there, feeling her knees weaken even as Jason groaned and pressed himself into her hand.

When they lay together, Sarah felt Jason strong and deep within her even as she gazed up into Jasmine's tender eyes. She had welcomed them both with her passion.

"Jason was quite outstanding, too," Sarah murmured as she shook off the last of the memories.

Sloan heard the caring and wonder in Sarah's voice and her heart lifted with happiness for them both. "I'm glad, Sarah. Really. Jason is special, and so are you."

"Thanks Sloan. You're a friend."

"Listen, friend," Sloan said good-naturedly, smiling at Michael. "I've got business to attend to."

"That's okay. I just called to satisfy my curiosity," Sarah said with another laugh. "Tell her I said hello."

Sloan kissed Michael quickly again, then replied, "I'll do that."

She put down the phone, kissed Michael one more time and slipped from the bed. "Sarah says ‘hello’. You need to put some clothes on because I don’t trust myself around open flames if you’re naked."

Michael merely grinned and padded toward the bathroom, a satisfied look on her face. Sloan found sweat pants and a t-shirt for Michael and pulled on sweats of her own. They took turns in the bathroom, then met in the kitchen to peruse the contents of the refrigerator together.

"Omelets?" Sloan inquired, reminded as she surveyed the paucity of food that she hadn't had a woman overnight in her apartment for a very long time. Her nights of carefully controlled intimacy had never been this simple, nor so intensely personal. She couldn't imagine now how those sterile encounters had sustained her for so long. Michael had reminded her what it meant to hunger, and to be filled.

Michael wrapped her arms around Sloan's waist from behind and stood on tiptoe to kiss the smooth skin on the back of her neck, then peered around her to look at the selection. "Mmm, omelets sound perfect. Is that orange juice I see?"

Sloan shivered at the light caress and tried to ignore the quick twist of want in her belly. She gathered things from the refrigerator and stacked them on a nearby counter. "Yep. And I believe there's some blue cheese and mushrooms, too."

Somehow they managed to construct breakfast and still remain within touching distance of one another the entire time. As if by unspoken agreement they sat side-by-side at the breakfast bar with the Sunday paper Sloan had retrieved from outside the door spread between them. Sloan held her coffee cup in her left hand while her right rested lightly on Michael's thigh. Michael's left hand covered Sloan's as she turned the pages of the paper with the other. It occurred to Michael that she had never been so comfortable with anyone in her life. How something so simple could feel so exciting, and so very right, was quite beyond her experience. Even as she sat in contented silence, she was very conscious of her heart pounding and the faint echoes of desire still whispering in her depths. Finally, she admitted that she was not concentrating on anything she was reading. All she was aware of was Sloan. The heat from Sloan's body and her faint distinct sweet scent reverberated in some primal place within her that responded out of instinct rather than thought.

"Sloan?" Michael said softly.

"Yes?" Sloan said quietly, aware that the slight pressure of Michael's hand on hers was adding to the increasingly distracting pressure between her legs.

"Is it at all normal for me to want to make love to you twentyfour hours a day?"

Sloan swung toward her on the stool and raised one hand to lightly stroke her cheek. "Oh, I hope so," she whispered, her throat already tight with renewed urgency, "because I feel the same way."

Michael placed her hands on Sloan's waist as she leaned forward, laughing. She kissed her, nibbling gently on her lower lip for a second, then slid down off the high breakfast seat. She moved closer, straddling Sloan's thigh, slipping her hands under Sloan's tee shirt to caress her back and then lightly stroke her belly. Sloan nearly groaned with the pleasure of it.

"Well then," Michael murmured, tugging her by the hand toward the bedroom, "I'm all for doing what comes naturally."

*

The next morning, Sloan walked into the reception area and was greeted by Jason, who had a very knowing smirk on his face. She stopped just inside the door and looked at him with raised brows and a wry grin.

"So?" she asked defensively.

"How was your weekend?" he asked sweetly.

She eyed him steadily, then answered smartly, "Probably a lot like yours. Spectacular."

He blushed, and had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed. "My weekend was most satisfactory. Thank you."

She turned and headed toward her office, commenting as she went, "Well then, I'm sure you're more than fit for duty. Perhaps I can have that six-month fiscal report sometime in the next century then?"

She closed her door before she could hear his scathing response. She spent the next several hours sorting through files, reviewing accounts, and contemplating the order in which she wanted to deal with the most recent requests for her services. Her phone rang as she was studying a rather unusual demand for a security check at a local police station. It wasn't the kind of work that was usually sent out to non-municipal agencies. She wondered if someone suspected internal tampering. For a moment she thought of the last time she had become embroiled in the politics of governmental intrigues, and what it had cost her. She was surprised to find that the memory didn't hurt quite as much as it once had. Her mind still on that realization, she grabbed the receiver and said perfunctorily, "Sloan."

"Sloan, it's Michael."

Sloan closed the files quickly and sat up straight, catching the edge of fear in Michael's voice. "What is it?"

Michael drew a breath, and explained, "I just received notification that the board is convening in three days to review this year's financial statistics and to ostensibly vote on next year's proposals. I'm pretty sure this is due to Jeremy's instigation, because we always take care of these things closer to the end of the year. There's not much I can do about it, I guess. I should have expected something like this, but I had hoped to have a little more time. The presentation last week went well, and if I could just delay this board meeting, I think I would have a better chance of convincing them of my competency." She sighed. "Of course, Jeremy knows this, too, which is why he’s making his move now."

Sloan cursed powerfully under her breath, but her voice was calm as she responded, "From what you've told me, your accounts are in good order and like you said, you've done well with the recent projects. Even if Jeremy pushes things towards a showdown with the board, you should be fine."

"I know that, and I think I actually believe it. Just the same, I wish I knew exactly what he had planned."

"Maybe we can find out," Sloan murmured almost to herself.

"I don't want you to compromise yourself because of my troubles," Michael said firmly. "But I am grateful for the offer."

"Don't worry, I'll stay far away from anything that might turn into a problem," Sloan said, her mind already considering possible avenues of inquiry. "I'm sorry about this, Michael. I think what your attorneys have offered him is more than fair. Some of this is probably just his way of reacting to the fact that you are leaving him."

Michael shrugged. "That may be, but it's something I should have done a long time ago." She fell silent as she thought of the weekend she had just spent with Sloan. She recalled a vivid image of Sloan leaning across the front seat of her car earlier that morning to stroke Michael's cheek for an instant before Michael got out to go to work. There had been a look in Sloan's eyes that made Michael feel like she was something precious, and it was a feeling she hoped she would never lose. "I love you."

Sloan smiled, the husky tone of Michael's voice instantly arousing her. "I love you, too."

"Is there a chance I might take you out to dinner tonight? I have a feeling that being with you is just what I need to take my mind off my troubles."

"More than a chance. You can count on it," Sloan said with certainty. "Try not to worry too much about this. You still have a few more days until the board meeting."

"I'll try," Michael answered. Since Sloan was practically all she could think about, that might not be too hard. "I'll see you tonight then."

"I'll be waiting for you," Sloan said.

As soon as she hung up, Sloan buzzed Jason, stating without preamble, "It's time to get everything we possibly can on Jeremy Lassiter. He's out to wage war on Michael, and if there's anything we can offer her as leverage, we need it now."

"I've got some things working," Jason said. He didn't think Sloan needed to know exactly how much time he had spent perusing the files of Lassiter and Lassiter while repairing the damage from the virus. Nor how easy it had been to backtrack into Jeremy's personal logs.

"Make it fast, because Michael doesn't have a lot of time."

"Don't worry. I'm on it."

"Good," she said, setting the phone down. She stared at her desk, trying to quiet the surge of rage she felt for Jeremy Lassiter.

Chapter Twenty-seven

"I don't really care, you know," Michael said as she ran her fingertips slowly along the edge of Sloan's rib cage. They were tangled together, partially covered by a sheet, still languorous in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Their half-eaten dinner lay forgotten in the living room of Sloan's loft.

Sloan stretched and settled her arm more comfortably around Michael's shoulders, holding her possessively close. "You don't really care about what?"

"Whatever Jeremy is planning," Michael murmured. She was much more interested in the way Sloan's breasts rose and fell gently with each breath, and with the faint flush of Sloan's skin that lingered after her passion was spent, and with the faint echo of desire that still tingled in her own limbs. "Nothing is as important as this."

Sloan kissed the top of her head, and said with a mixture of contentment and worry, "I understand. You matter more to me than anything else, too. But this is your work, Michael. This is a huge part of your life. There's no way we're going to let him take that away from you."

Michael pushed up on one arm and shifted until she was lying on top of Sloan's body. Sloan's legs parted automatically to accept Michael's thigh between them. Their breasts fit together effortlessly. Michael rested on her elbows, her hands framing Sloan's face.

"If it were impossible to ever leave this room, I wouldn't be sorry," Michael whispered adamantly.

Sloan had no doubt that she meant it, because a part of her longed for exactly that. To be only with Michael and to know nothing else. But tomorrow would come and eventually they would need to face the world.

"You’ll work this out," Sloan said softly, forgetting her resolve to be rational as she ran her hands lightly down Michael's smooth back to the round firm swell of her buttocks. Sloan felt herself grow heavy and damp with desire, groaning softly with the exquisite pressure.

Michael grinned, all thoughts of Jeremy and business forgotten. Nothing stirred her quite like watching Sloan succumb to desire. It was a heady sensation knowing she could steal Sloan's control in these private moments. She thought pleasing Sloan was even more satisfying than being pleasured by her, and that was more satisfying that anything she had ever known.

"Yes," Michael whispered, lowering her head to Sloan's nipple as her fingers pressed between them, seeking the tantalizing welcome of Sloan's body. She closed her eyes, murmuring, "Yes, we will," as she gave herself over to passion.

*

Jeremy strode angrily towards Angela's desk, demanding harshly, "What's so important it couldn't wait two days? I don't appreciate being ordered to report to my wife's office like I was an office boy."

Angela had to work to hide her smile. It wasn't often that she saw Jeremy Lassiter out of control. She reached to her console to inform Michael that Jeremy had arrived, but he continued past her muttering, "Don't bother to announce me. I don't intend to wait."

He pushed open the door and marched across the plush carpet with his gaze fixed firmly forward to where Michael sat behind her desk. A few steps into the room, he stopped hesitantly and glanced from Michael's face to that of the woman leaning casually against the corner of Michael's desk. He tried to regain his composure by seizing the offense.

"What's going on? You wanted to see me, and I assumed it was a private matter." He nodded his head perfunctorily in Sloan's direction. "Who's this?"

Michael rose and came around to the front of her desk, standing a few feet from Sloan. She looked at Jeremy and saw the anger and near loathing in his face, and wondered how she had ever felt safe with him. She pushed those thoughts away, needing all of her concentration for what was to come. "This is J. T. Sloan, the head of a security company I asked to review our system. It seems that we not only had some areas of vulnerability that left us open to outside tampering, but it appears that we had an internal problem as well."

Jeremy looked confused. "That's why you called me here? For some computer glitch?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Lassiter," Sloan stated calmly. She had her hands in her pockets because she didn't want him to see that they were balled into fists. She knew she had to stay focused, but it was difficult knowing that this man had been intimate with Michael for so many years and had clearly never understood how lucky he had been. She wanted to punch him, but she knew that she could only beat him on his own ground. She continued, her voice steady, "It seems that a substantial rerouting of funds has occurred somewhere between the initial accounting process and the final year end statements in all of the last three fiscal years. With a corporation this size, of course, it's often difficult to track all of the expenditures, reimbursements, and advances that may be authorized for various divisions."

Jeremy's eyes narrowed slightly, but his face remained expressionless. "It seems to me that's what the business office is for. I'm sure they can straighten out any confusion in that regard." He made a show of checking his watch. "I have meetings scheduled all day. I have proposals to review before our board meeting," he said pointedly to Michael.

When he turned as if to leave, Michael responded, "I think you might find Sloan's report of more interest then anything you are preparing for our board meeting." She left the statement hanging in the air unqualified, and knew as he stopped, turning slowly back to them, that everything Sloan had presented to her early that morning was true. There was a wary look on his face and something close to panic in his eyes. How she could have been so wrong about him she would never understand. She could only believe that over the years they had both changed, and that this was not the man she had once thought she loved. None of those feelings showed in her face as she met his gaze coldly, waiting for Sloan to speak. "I’ll let Sloan outline the details."

"I have documentation of your offshore accounts, Mr. Lassiter," Sloan said matter-of-factly, indicating a large stack of folders on the desk by her right hand. "I also have copies of bank statements indicating deposit patterns that correlate with irregularities in the financial cash flow of Lassiter and Lassiter. Granted, in and of themselves, such small discrepancies in the corporate financial structure are relatively common and would probably not have been noticed. But given the consistency of the cash diversions and the substantial amounts in your private accounts, the evidence is quite clear." She didn’t have to spell out the fact that he had been siphoning profits into carefully concealed accounts for months.

"That's ridiculous," Jeremy barked defensively. "There's no way you could have legally accessed any of that information. This is nothing but technological blackmail."

"On the contrary," Sloan said smoothly. "Part of the contract agreement for my company to review your internal systems grants access to all information contained within that system. That's a simple basic requirement for the work that I need to do. All of the information I have gathered was obtained during the process of legitimately contracted work." She realized she was stretching the truth somewhat. Jason had used Lassiter and Lassiter’s corporate system to access nonbusiness related information via avenues of inquiry that were perhaps marginal under the details of their contractual agreement, but the fact remained that she had the information and would use it in whatever way necessary.

Michael spoke before Jeremy could make further protest. "I don't care about the money, Jeremy. The losses impact only me personally, since all our shareholder obligations have been met. I have no interest in airing our private differences in public nor prosecuting you for embezzlement of profits that I gladly would have shared with you had you asked. On the other hand, considering what you have already gained from the corporation through these means, I don't see any obligation to continue a financial association in the future. I have instructed my attorneys to withdraw all future monetary compensation to you once the partnership is dissolved. Given the information that I have regarding your activities, I would consider it more than fair."

His jaw muscles tightened and bunched as he struggled to contain his wrath. He looked from one to the other, and knew with certainty that he had no bargaining power with them. It was a simple decision to make. He could not afford to expose his clandestine financial dealings, even though he could probably argue that they were not illegal since the funds were the joint property of his wife and himself. Nevertheless, his reputation would be irrevocably damaged and he would never be able to engage in business activities with other investors. Now was the time to accept this small defeat in order to preserve his future opportunities.

"Have your attorneys contact my attorneys," he said stiffly.

"And you'll rescind your request to convene the board and you'll table whatever agenda items you had planned on raising?" Michael said quietly.

Yes," he said curtly.

"I’ll expect the signed papers from my attorneys by the end of the day, Jeremy," she added softly.

"You’ll have them," he barked as he flung open the office door.

Michael watched him leave, feeling a chapter of her life closing as the door shut resoundingly behind him. She turned to look at the woman who would occupy the center of her life to come, smiling softly. "Thank you."

Sloan shook her head, stepping close and resting her hands gently on Michael's waist. "There's no need to thank me. I love you, and if there is something you need, I want to be able to help." She laughed. "We both owe Jason a night on the town though. I think he was up all night following Jeremy's trail through a maze of corporations, sub-corporations, and other umbrella companies that Jeremy used to cover his financial tracks."

Michael nodded, raising her arms to Sloan's shoulders and pressing against her. She kissed her neck and leaned back so their eyes met. "Absolutely. We'll take Jason and Sarah out to dinner one night very soon. Not for a few days however. I intend to keep you busy with personal matters for the next few nights."

Sloan chuckled, and kissed Michael’s mouth hard enough to make Michael gasp with sudden pleasure. When she drew away, Sloan asked teasingly, "Is that right?"

"That's very right," Michael whispered. "You can trust me on that."

Sloan knew that she could, which was all the promise she would ever need.

Comments please to rdclyfhall@hotmail.com

This story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent any particular individual, alive or dead. This work may not be printed or distributed for profit without the express written permission of the author.