by V. K. Powell
Light from the street lamp on the opposite corner bathed Syd in a muted yellow haze. The color settled around her like a halo and illuminated her delicate features. In that light, Regan thought she appeared innocent yet rakishly alluring. Syd returned her stare and seemed to be considering how to respond. The gleam in her eyes said the answer would not be what Regan needed.
“I’m thinking if you wanted to go out with me all you had to do was ask. While I really like that Bogart thing you’ve got going on, it’s not necessary. Verbal assertiveness works just as well for me.”
Regan was increasingly aware that she still held Syd’s elbow, which brought their bodies too close for her to stay on point. She let go and stepped away. “You actually think I came back here for you?”
“Well, I have to admit, it could be Jesse’s drinks. She’s superb. But I’d bet on me.”
“Are you really that self-absorbed or is it just an elaborate ruse?” This woman’s audacity was surpassed only by her arrogance, or so she wanted everyone to think. But Regan had acquired the skill of reading body language and subtle shifts of expression at an early age. Her observation powers had helped her survive and keep peace in a home dominated by violence and upheaval. It was this ability to discern truth from fiction through the fine-spun nonverbal communications of others that drew her to the legal profession. The alternative had been psychology, and she couldn’t handle the emotions that other people’s suffering generated inside her. One thing was certain, Sydney Cabot’s act didn’t ring true. But this wasn’t the time to try to figure her out.
“Speaking of ruses, you seem to be the expert,” Syd taunted softly. “Are you seriously trying to suggest you came into the club, found me in the restroom, and dragged me into a darkened alley to talk about work?”
Regan evaluated each word as Syd spoke. She had to admit it would sound pretty unbelievable to anyone who might be watching and didn’t know better. But she knew better. “This is a professional issue. Nothing more.”
Syd inched closer. “You need to lighten up a bit.”
You just need to lighten up, Regan. This time it was Martha’s voice she heard, urging her home from work early, convincing her to try something new or pleading for a little more spontaneity. The memory was sharp and jagged, tearing through her like a serrated knife.
“You don’t have to be so cautious,” Syd urged. “I like you, and I know you like me.”
“You’re not hearing me, Officer Cabot. This is about work.” But Regan couldn’t deny the series of shivers Syd’s words evoked.
“What? You’re kidding, right?” Syd looked as if the comment had distinctly distasteful qualities.
“I am not. I stopped by because I was afraid you’d do something irresponsible. We can’t afford to have things like this come out at trial. You need to be much more discreet. In fact, it would be best to curtail this altogether until the case is resolved.”
Syd looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted three heads. “And what exactly is this that we’re talking about?”
Regan waved her arms toward the club. “You know, this this. You, in the restroom with women, having—sex.” She felt like an inept mother trying to scold a child and failing miserably.
The look on Syd’s face shifted from flirty to mildly amused. “You don’t have to be jealous. There’s enough of me to go around.”
“This is serious, Syd. You have got to avoid these sexual encounters in public, at least until the trial is over. Then you can do whatever you want. But I’m not about to risk my reputation and career on someone who’s on a self-destruct mission. Do you understand?”
In the blink of an eye, the glimmer of flirty amusement on Syd’s face vanished. It was replaced by something dark and painful. Syd stood her ground, remaining within arm’s length but seeming emotionally miles away.
“I understand perfectly, Counselor.” Her voice was as sharp and steady as bladed steel. “Somehow you’re under the mistaken impression that handling my civil case gives you the right to handle my life. It doesn’t.”
“I’m just saying that public sex isn’t the best choice right now.”
“And I’m telling you that I wasn’t having sex in the restroom tonight. Not that it’s any of your business. I was here with one of my squad mates. We were just talking.”
“Right.” Regan’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe Syd’s explanation.
“What’s your problem anyway? Are you so uptight that the sight of two women enjoying each other offends you? Or was it just too exciting for you to handle? Can’t give up that control?”
Regan’s insides tensed as Syd’s words revived desires long suppressed. It was like Syd was reading her mind and knew her most closely guarded fear. She struggled to prevent the shock of her thoughts from being played out across her face.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You liked it and you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Hell, you probably can’t even admit it to yourself.” Syd leaned into Regan’s body space and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s okay to admit it.” She licked the edge of Regan’s ear. “Really.”
Regan recoiled from the moist contact and the stirring of arousal it dredged to the surface. “Sex in a public restroom is not my idea of excitement. Besides, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about your case. A case that, need I remind you, could have a serious impact on your life. Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”
Syd backed deliberately away from Regan and fixed her with a look that clutched at her heart. Her matter-of-fact tone had lost its flirty playfulness. “You have no idea what matters to me or what I’ve been through the past eight months. When you do, maybe then you’ll understand just how far a person will go to feel whole again.” She turned and walked from the alley, leaving Regan staring open-mouthed.
She’s got you there, Desanto. Regan knew the pain of uprooting herself from cherished friends, of losing a lover, of being betrayed on the deepest personal level, and of having her lifelong dreams annihilated. But she had no idea how it felt to make a split-second decision that would end another life and then have to live with that horror every day. She truly could not imagine what toll that kind of responsibility took or what extreme measures one might embrace to alleviate a psyche so haunted.
Was that the demon Sydney Cabot tried so desperately to conceal? Was that the reason for her false bravado and blatant womanizing? And she was absolutely right. Regan could never truly understand what Syd was going through, on the most fundamental level. A swell of sadness gripped her as she realized that this time her overdeveloped sensitivity and empathy could not help. And for some reason beyond mere compassion, she wanted to fix it and make everything better for Syd.
*
Syd scuffed her Cole Haan drivers against the pavement as she dodged loud and intoxicated pedestrians, traffic barricades, and off-duty officers on her way home. The furniture market had been in full bloom for two days and the downtown square resembled Mardi Gras. Furniture might be big business during the day, but liquor and women ruled at night.
What a delicious combination, she thought, liquor and women. That had been all she wanted tonight: a couple of drinks, an innocent liaison with an out-of-town marketer, and a huge dose of decompression. Instead she’d come away with nothing but an unpleasant tongue-lashing from Regan Desanto. She replayed the encounter again as she took the long way home.
It was surreal when Regan opened the restroom door and almost collided with her. The blue eyes staring back at her flashed surprise only for a moment before shifting into heat and anger. Syd realized she should probably have objected when Regan dragged her from the club, but something inside her screamed, Oh yes, finally. Just the thought that someone cared enough to save her from herself was amazingly exciting.
That thought quickly vanished as she realized that Regan had no idea she wanted to be saved or from what. Syd’s mood shifted from excitement to confusion. Of course she didn’t need to be saved, she loved her life. But
the woman tugging on her arm stirred up something different inside her. She could hardly wait to hear the prim, proper attorney explain this behavior.
It didn’t take long. Once outside in the alley, Regan simultaneously called her a fraud and a slut in one long rant that sounded like a courtroom summation. Her mood and tone were so intense that Syd was slightly amused, even though her comments were hitting too close to home. Regan didn’t know her well enough to see through her smoke screen of sexual bravado, false confidence, and misdirected humor, and yet she’d nailed her behavior as “an elaborate ruse.”
Regan’s assessment sent Syd into her first default mode, flirting as a diversion. If she allowed herself to examine the ramifications of Regan’s astute observations, she would’ve clung to the woman there in the alley surrounded by the swirling scents of coffee and pastries. Instead, she went for her weakness, that obvious need to be in control. And it worked. She challenged Regan to lighten up and let go. Her shot hit the mark as Regan’s cool blue eyes became clouded and distant. Syd felt momentarily ashamed for having triggered such an unhappy memory.
But Regan wasn’t distracted for long. She finally got to the point of her seemingly coincidental visit to the Cop Out. She was checking up on Syd, certain that she was so disturbed by their earlier meeting that she would fling herself into the arms of the first available woman she met. Bingo. Syd hated to admit it, but she was right again. If the dark-haired butch had followed her into the restroom and come on to her, she would’ve gladly obliged. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Regan Desanto.
Instead, she accused Regan of being attracted to her and maybe even a bit jealous. Heat rose in Regan’s eyes when she mentioned their first encounter at the Cop Out. Regan shifted her stance uncomfortably, moving slightly away from Syd. She repeatedly licked her kissable lips in an involuntary motion indicative of sexual arousal and invitation.
And when Syd inched toward her, whispered that she should admit her attraction, and rimmed the edge of Regan’s ear with her tongue, the response had been immediate. Too immediate and too strong. It had been Syd’s experience that reactions that intense were usually employed to hide equally fierce feelings. The thought sent a shiver of uncontrollable delight through Syd’s body. She could easily imagine this emotionally contained woman letting herself go and allowing Syd to please and pleasure her.
But Regan’s release came in another form—a brilliantly orated sermon about Syd’s irresponsible behavior and its possible effect on her civil case, her job, and the City of High Point. Again, she nailed Syd with her insight and made her consider things in a broader context. How could this woman arouse her sexual interest and emotional curiosity, and challenge her professional commitment all at the same time? The latter rocked Syd. No one had ever questioned her job performance or dedication. And to have the woman who was supposed to be defending her do so spun Syd into her second default behavior—anger.
She completely withdrew from Regan, all flirting and playfulness carefully tucked behind her impenetrable screen of self-protection. Ice water pulsed through her veins as she stepped intentionally away from her attorney. How dare she assume to know what mattered to her, to have any concept of what killing another human being had done to her, or to understand the lengths she’d gone to in order to cope with and forget that night for even brief moments. She was wrong. Regan Desanto had no idea what made her tick, and that intellectual and compassionate void might cost Syd her livelihood.
Chapter Six
Two days had passed since Regan’s ill-advised stop at the Cop Out, but the heated exchange with Syd kept replaying in her mind at the most inopportune times. This particular version occurred during the morning staff meeting: Syd standing toe-to-toe with her, whispering that she should accept the attraction between them. A warm, moist tongue sliding seductively around the rim of her ear.
A slow burn started low in Regan’s belly and crept lower.
“Regan?” Terry Blair and the rest of the legal staff were staring at her, awaiting the answer to some question she’d obviously not heard.
“Yes?” Regan knew her face telegraphed her lack of attention and embarrassment at being caught. She made a mental note to have her hormone levels checked at her next physical. There had to be some organic reason for her uncustomary states of arousal and lapses into sexual fantasy.
“I asked for an update on the Cabot case.”
“There’s not much to tell at this point. I’ve been going through the file more thoroughly, and I’ve requested her Internal Affairs and personnel records.”
“Is she calling in as we requested?”
Regan thought of the clipped phone exchanges the last couple of days. “Yes, she is. And we’re meeting this afternoon to go over a few things.”
Terry hesitated before asking his next question. “Any problems I need to know about?”
She knew his question referred to her professional lapse in trying to get off the case. “No, no problems at all.” She ignored the nagging voice in the back of her mind.
The remainder of the morning disappeared in a quagmire of phone calls back and forth between her and the police chief, as she tried to explain that full Internal Affairs and personnel files did not mean a redacted version. She wanted the secret files kept on each officer that even they weren’t shown. She needed all the good, bad, and questionable pieces of Sydney Cabot’s file intact. It was almost two o’clock when the receptionist buzzed and informed her that Syd was waiting in the conference room.
Great, another day with no time for lunch. Facing Officer Cabot fully fortified had proven challenging; this time she’d have to depend on mental mettle to sustain her.
When Regan entered the conference room, Syd was standing at the wall of glass windows overlooking downtown. Crisp linen slacks in a warm chocolate color hugged the perfectly rounded orbs of her butt, and a white sleeveless shell shone in stark relief against the pants and her tanned arms. Chiseled muscles along the back of her upper arms flexed and released as she clenched her fists in front of her. Her straight chestnut hair kissed the top of her shoulders, and the layered strands blew lightly with the circulating air in the room.
Regan felt an urge to simply stand and watch the shapely officer silhouetted against the backdrop of the city. She hadn’t wanted to just look at another woman since the early days with Martha. Why this particular woman? At that moment Syd sensed her presence and turned.
“Good afternoon.” Her tone held a cool, guarded edge mirrored in her evasive gaze.
Regan elected a briskly professional response. “Syd, thanks for coming in.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice. I am assigned to you for the next two weeks.” Syd chose the chair farthest from her.
Very encouraging, Regan thought. Syd’s voice sounded hollow, with a sense of resignation. The timbre of it filled her with compassion. “Is it really necessary for you to sit way over there?”
She realized, with more than a moderate amount of surprise, that the words carried a double meaning. One was a professional concern for their ability to communicate easily and effectively about this case. The second was an uncomfortable desire to be physically closer to Syd. Something about this enigmatic woman yelled sex while simultaneously eliciting compassion and asking for help.
“Probably as necessary as the rest of this.”
Regan understood that Syd didn’t want to be in this situation. Reliving every detail of the shooting, exposing her unorthodox coping mechanisms, and waiting for a barrage of professional and personal judgments wouldn’t appeal to anyone. Steeling herself against further invasion into her life by giving as few details as possible was likely her method of self-defense.
“I’m really sorry about all this,” Regan said. “I can’t imagine how it makes you feel.”
“No, you can’t. Could we just get this over with, please? I’m meeting someone for drinks later and I don’t want to be late.”
Syd’s tone had changed from resignation
to defensiveness, and the sharp contrast stimulated Regan’s Irish temper, reminding her just who she was dealing with. “Fine, let’s get started. Wouldn’t want you to be late for a date, now would we?” She could care less about Syd’s personal life. Her job was to defend the City of High Point, in spite of Sydney Cabot.
“Don’t you think we need to talk about something else first?”
“What did you have in mind, Officer Cabot?”
“The first time we saw each other.”
After a lengthy pause, Regan felt her face flush with heat. “If you’re referring to that scene at the Cop Out, I don’t believe it needs to be discussed. It was—unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? That’s what you call a look that could send most women in search of a confessional?”
Regan’s skin prickled as the visual of that night returned. Syd’s screams of pleasure reverberated in her head. “I was merely surprised by two grown women behaving so irresponsibly. I hadn’t seen that type of behavior since college.”
“That look was way beyond surprise. But the point is, how do you feel about it now?”
Regan folded her arms across her chest, hoping Syd wouldn’t see the traitorous nipples dimpling beneath her sweater. “I don’t feel anything,” she lied. “It was an unfortunate first impression. Neither of us knew we’d be working together. And now that we are, it’s history and we move on.”
“There’s that word again. Unfortunate. I’ll tell you what’s unfortunate—you not staying longer that night so we could get acquainted. I think you wanted to, but you were too afraid.”
“Then you don’t know me very well. And as to who’s afraid of what, why don’t we get back to the business at hand, namely your civil suit. Are you ready to talk about that or do you want to continue this evasive banter in the hopes of intimidating me or getting your case reassigned?”