If she'd been out last night. The cheese and cracker remains on the table were Trish's favorite up-till-dawn snack.

She stood in the bedroom doorway and cursed her¬self for not noticing that there were two of everything on the table. Two wine glasses, two plates. There were two pairs of slacks on the floor next to the bed.

She didn't want to look. Trish knew she was coming home. She was maybe an hour ahead of schedule, which meant that Trish hadn't planned on clearing up her little fling before Rett got home. The pants that weren't Trish's looked like a size minus-three.

Her suitcase slipped out of her numb fingers and the thud stirred the bed's two occupants. Trish's eyes opened first; she glanced in Rett's direction.

"Shit!" She threw off the covers and sat up. The flat-stomached, firm-bosomed, long-legged features of her companion were also revealed. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get out of my life."

"Don't be that way. I didn't mean for this to happen."

The other woman was awake now, her Kewpie doll mouth open in surprise, but otherwise she lacked any expression of chagrin. If anything, she looked trium¬phant.

It was then, over the woman's shoulder, that Rett saw the mirror, razor and remnants of white powder. The realization hit her harder than anything else that had happened, and it literally knocked the breath out of her.

Trish knew how she felt about drugs. Trish supposedly felt the same. Drugs were for losers on a one-way trip to Loserville. Trish had agreed.

Everything she's ever told me was a lie, Rett thought. Even that she loved me.

She struggled to find enough breath to speak. "I'm serious, Trish. It's over."

"Rett, honey, you don't mean that. I've em¬barrassed you. You're upset."

"Embarrassed me?"

The other woman spoke up. "I'm so sorry to be the bone of contention —"

"Don't flatter yourself." Rett didn't want to look at the woman, let alone talk to her. "Now's a good time to get dressed and get out, because this doesn't concern you."

Trish nodded when the woman looked at her. They waited while she dressed. Rett did not fail to notice that Trish mouthed, "I'll call you," at the woman as she left.

Trish began to get dressed herself while Rett stood in the doorway. After Trish pulled a tight muscle shirt over her head she looked up at Rett. "Have you eaten?"

Rett's laugh was incredulous. "We're not done."

"Yes, we are." Trish tidied her short hair with her fingers and then met Rett's gaze in the mirror. "God, I've missed you."

No, she thought, I'm not going to let this happen. Traitor body — how could she still want Trish?

Trish turned from the mirror, all muscled legs and shoulders. "I think I got dressed too soon."

She was letting Trish get too close. Trish's breath was whispering over her ear. She could smell. . . she could smell sex and couldn't help her own response. To get in their bed where Trish had been with some¬one else, to make Trish prove how much she still

loved her by obliterating the memory of another woman — she was dizzy with the temptation.

Trish lightly touched her lips with one finger and Rett wanted to nibble at it.

I am not my mother. I will not make her mistakes. Rett had carried that litany with her from the moment she had left home, and yet she knew she was on the verge of making one of her mother's mis¬takes — settling for any kind of love as better than none at all.

She stepped back and whispered, "No."

Trish looked dumbfounded. Her sexy air faded and her voice was like steel. "Am I going to get a reason?"

Rett had to clear her throat. "You know the reason."

"I'm sorry Cheri was still here."

"This is not about whoever that was or any of them. It's about Disney." Cheri — cute little name to go with her cute little ass.

"We got the callback, babe. I'm just waiting to find out when. It was going to be a surprise."

"They canceled, babe. Because I'm a pain in the ass to work with. Because Rett Nobody Jamison demands limos and buffets."

"Those shits! They do that for the person who walks Mariah Carey's dog. It was a perfectly reason¬able request."

Rett shook her head in disbelief. "This was the biggest break of my career and you don't seem to realize that you fucked it up."

"We don't need them if they don't know how to treat us." Trish shrugged as if that was all that needed to be said.

Rett's voice was squeaky with anger. "I need them.

/ needed this job. This isn't about how they treat us, it's about me getting the break of a lifetime. You fucked it up — why? Was Cheri coming along for the ride as foreplay? Were you going to introduce her to me as a fresh, young voice who needed the invaluable experience of seeing a working studio?"

"You're jealous of Cheri and you shouldn't be." Trish was turning up the pheromones again. "You know how I feel about you."

I am not my mother and I will not make her mistakes. Rett took a deep breath. "I know what you want me to think. But it's over. You've fucked up my career and you've brought drugs into the house."

"That?" Trish rolled her eyes. "It's Cheri's. Though it wouldn't hurt you to try it. It would let your hair down a little."

"It's over, Trish." Rett felt as if she was looking at a stranger. "I don't know you anymore. I don't trust you to handle my business anymore. I don't respect you anymore."

Trish's expression was mulish. How had she ever mistaken it for sultry? "You're from nowhere and heading back there on the fast track. Who the fuck are you to throw me out?"

It was like her mother's voice out of the past. Rett gritted her teeth. "I'm the owner of this apartment. The one who pays the bills. The one with a career that now needs some major repair. I'm taking the career back to Naomi and I'm looking forward to one person in my bed, not three."

"That bitch — I knew she was behind this. She's had it in for me since the start. She tells you lies and you have a hysterical fit!"

Rett's anger made her feel intensely calm. "I've

realized I trust Naomi more than I'll ever trust you. Naomi doesn't use me. I know that we agreed no monogamy. But that doesn't mean that I don't see the hotel charge receipts on the credit card I pay for. Five-star hotels for you for a roll in the hay, but I'm always at Motel 6 when I'm working."

"This is all about money." Trish lounged against the wall in the leave-me-alone-come-get-me manner that had brought Rett running four years ago. Rett thought it viciously unfair that those dark eyes still made her weak in the knees.

"You know, I've just realized that it is. It's all about how much money I can make to keep you in the style you're accustomed to. You don't spend a dime of your percentage on anything related to me and our home or your car." She waved a hand at the paraphernalia on the bedstand. "For all I know, you've been putting it all up your nose. It doesn't matter. The free ride is over."

"You don't have a problem living the good life."

Rett's lips tightened. Her voice fell to its deepest level. "I'm the one with the three-octave vocal range and a flawless memory. I'm the one who does the actual work that pays the bills. I'm the one who spends two hours a day practicing. I'm done with your making everything my fault. I'm not taking the blame for your arrogance. The only thing I've done wrong is let this go on too long."

Trish ran one elegant hand through her short, dark hair. She looked at Rett through her lashes and said nothing. Rett could sense the pheromones again. Her body reminded her how much she had been looking forward to being with Trish. The feel of Trish inside her and her mouth finding the places that she

knew would make Trish tremble ... it would be very easy to say yes.

I am not my mother I will not make her mistakes. Rett stood stock-still, afraid even the slightest motion would betray her unwanted desires. The rest of her life was more important than a quick fuck. Otherwise what was the point of working so hard for a future?

When the silence got too hard to bear, Rett dragged one of Trish's suitcases out of the closet. It wouldn't hold all of Trish's things, of course, but the significance was important. She filled it with polo shirts, underwear and chinos, put Trish's toothbrush on top, zipped it shut, then crossed the room to hold it out to Trish.

Trish stared at the case as if it were a snake. "You don't really mean this."

"I do."

Trish moved so quickly that Rett couldn't do more than let out a startled yelp. She knocked the suitcase from Rett's hand and seized her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Rett arched her neck back so she could look into Trish's eyes. She found her most scathing tone. "Is this where we clinch and I forgive everything? You're not macho enough for this move." She knew that Trish could feel how hard she was shaking. She was still angry and now the electricity of Trish's touch was threatening to change anger to lust.

Trish was looking down at her with an expression that Rett didn't recognize. Was it contempt? Did Trish really feel so little for her? Had she been mistaking contempt for love all along?

For several heartbeats Trish just held her tightly, then she put her mouth on Rett's. Rett turned her

head away as far as she could, trying to not dignify Trish's caveman tactics by struggling.

"Let go of me. This is ridiculous."

"Who are you to dump me?" Rett glanced back into Trish's eyes and didn't recognize what she saw there. In that instant, Trish shoved her into the wall so viciously that Rett saw stars. Just as her muddled vision cleared, Trish slapped her, hard.