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didn’t feel comfortable making casual conversation with near strangers. When she tried to remember the last time she and Nicholas had been out alone together, she couldn’t. How on earth she had ever allowed herself to be drawn into this strange outing escaped her.
    “You needn’t stay if it doesn’t please you,” Sloan said as if reading her mind.
    Michael looked at her sharply, studying the angles of her face in the flickering light from overhead street lamps and passing cars that illuminated her features briefly before darkness descended again. In those brief patches of light, she could make out the strong chin, sculpted cheekbones, and straight fine nose. She couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but she didn’t need to. That was something already etched in her memory.
    Despite the odd turn of events, Michael reminded herself that she had spent the last few hours in this woman’s company, in far more than casual conversation. Contrary to being awkward, it had been amazingly easy.
    “I’m accustomed to looking after myself, Ms. Sloan. Please don’t worry about me.”
    “Just Sloan,” Sloan repeated again. She glanced briefly at Michael, then returned her attention to the road. “I have absolutely no doubt that you are entirely capable of looking after yourself. I only meant that it might not be the kind of entertainment you’re used to.”
    “You said a show—down here I’d guess a jazz combo or a piano bar.” At Sloan’s faint smile she asked cautiously, “What exactly does your friend do?”
    Grinning a little wider, Sloan deftly maneuvered into a parking space on the street. She cut the engine and turned in her seat to face Michael, carelessly draping her right arm over the back of the passenger seat. There wasn’t a great deal of room in the interior of her Porsche, and her fingers glanced unintentionally over Michael’s shoulder. “It’s a drag show.”
    Michael jumped slightly, more from the unexpected contact than the unanticipated answer. She swallowed, then answered steadily, “Of course, a drag show. Exactly what I was expecting.”
    Sloan laughed, appreciating her companion’s aplomb. She released her seat belt and pushed open the driver’s door. “Come on. I have a table reserved up front.”
    Michael waited on the sidewalk, watching the unquestionably handsome woman come around the car to join her. What in God’s name am I doing?

Chapter Three

    Backstage in the dressing room shared by all the performers, Jasmine sat before a light-encircled mirror at a long table that ran along the entire length of one wall. She finished applying the last touches of mascara and reached for the lip gloss to seal the dark crimson shade she had chosen to highlight the subtle sweep of blush along the crest of her cheekbones. Carefully, she used a fine brush to shade the edges of her upper lip and then checked to ensure that any hint of shadow along her jawline had been obliterated with a light foundation.
    As the door to the dressing room opened and one of the other performers entered, she smiled up at the newcomer. “How’s the crowd?”
    “Full house.” The statuesque brunette in the form-fitting red dress eased into the adjoining chair. She studied her reflection in the mirror and, after assuring herself that everything was in order, swiveled to face Jasmine. “You should get a load of Sloan’s date,” she remarked too casually.
    Jasmine arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh really? Sloan never said anything about bringing someone.”
    “Well, she’s at her usual table, and she’s got a gorgeous blond with her. Even by the usual standards, this one’s a show-stopper.”
    “Blond, as in natural?” Jasmine inquired, feeling a faint stirring of anxiety. “As in perfect size 6? As in Ingrid Bergman elegant and Sharon Stone sexy? That type of blond?”
    Crystal stood, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, looking into the mirror again as she made a subtle adjustment to the very