Honor Guards

For just a second, Blair allowed herself to rest her head against Cam's shoulder before straightening up and inching away. "With pleasure."

"Do you have plans for tonight?"

Blair regarded her quizzically. "I had hoped to spend the evening with you."

"I need to make some calls when we get back to the hotel, and then I'll come by and we can discuss it."

Intrigued by the ambiguity in her usually straightforward lover's voice, Blair only nodded as the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. "That sounds fine. I'm going to take a couple of aspirin and lie down for a few minutes."

"Good." Cam touched Blair's cheek briefly. "I'll see you in an hour or so."

It was closer to two hours later when Blair answered the knock on her door. Cam waited on the threshold in casual dark chinos and polo shirt under a light blue blazer. Blair motioned her inside and cocked her head, studying her lover appreciatively.

"I like you when you're relaxed."

Cam grinned and took in Blair's soft cotton slacks and scoop-necked silk tee. "You look pretty relaxed yourself." She caught Blair around the waist and kissed her. "Mmm. Smell really good, too."

"That's what a power nap and a hot bath will do for you." Blair leaned back, her hands on Cam's shoulders. "What's on your mind, Commander?"

"This." Cam nuzzled Blair's neck and kissed the base of her throat.

"Besides that"

Cam laughed. "Grab your jacket and let's take a ride."

"Where are we going?" Blair asked.

"Out."

"Like on a date?"

They were both painfully aware that dating was not a real possibility for them.

"Something like that."

"Tell."

Slowly, Cam shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Nope."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "I am not fond of power plays, Cameron."

"Really?" Cam pulled her close again and nipped at her earlobe, prompting a sound halfway between a moan and a snarl. "I never noticed that."

"And I thought you-were so observant." As she spoke, Blair slid a hand between Cam's thighs and squeezed.

Cam gasped, her legs suddenly weak, "Christ."

"I'm sorry—what was that?"

"If you don't stop that," Cam managed through gritted teeth, "I won't be able to walk, and you won't find out where we're going."

"Hmm," Blair mused, stroking her fingers softly over Cam's crotch. "Tough choice."

"Please. I want to take you out." Cam kissed her lover's ear. "Later you can torture me as much as you want."

Laughing, Blair removed her hand. "Now that's a deal."

One of the things Stark found so appealing about Paris was that it stayed light later into the evening than she was used to, even when compared to summer evenings back home. When she entered the lobby of Renee's hotel shortly after 8:00 p.m., the sky was bathed in the warm golden glow that preceded the purple dusk. The team had been in Paris a little more than four days, but Egret's schedule had been so full that there'd been little downtime other than the rest periods between shifts. This was the first full evening that she'd had off, and even that had come as a surprise when the Commander had unexpectedly taken her aside and told her she was free until the next afternoon. When she'd started to protest that she was due on rotation again at 0700, the Commander had merely repeated, "Take a break, Stark. Tomorrow night I want you on point."

She'd had the good sense not to argue any further, but had hurried back to the room she shared with Felicia Davis.

"Where's the fire?" Felicia asked as Stark hurried into the two-room suite.

"There s been a change in assignments, and I 've got the night off."

Felicia arched her brow. "Really? Good for you. I was just about to go out for a stroll. Want to join me? "

"Uh..."

Laughing, Felicia shook her head* "Never mind. I take it you have plans."

Discussing her personal life was a new experience, primarily because she 'd never had much of one to speak of before. She liked Felicia, a lot. Still, added to her natural reticence was a small degree of uncertainty about discussing her relationship with Renee. It was one thing to admit her own involvement with another womanwhen it could conceivably have professional repercussions, but quite another to make that statement for Renee.

"I'm sorry," Felicia said quietly. "I didn 't mean to put you on the spot."

"No, I'm sorry. "Stark reminded herself of how critical Felicia had been to the successful completion of their last operation, and more importantly, how personally supportive she 'd been when Renee was in the hospital and Stark was pretty much a basket case. "I'm going to spend the evening with Renee. "

"Of course, I should have realized that. I hope you have a great night."

"I don't have much experience with friendships or relationships," Stark said quietly. "It's not personal...my not talking about it."

Felicia settled onto the sofa and crossed her legs, one long elegant arm resting across her bent knee. "I don't think this work is particularly conducive to friendship. There are so many secrets we must keep that we forget how to open up to other people. "

Nodding, Stark pulled out the desk chair and sat, regarding with new interest the woman she spent numerous hours with every day. "I've never thought about that very much, but you 're right. We spend all day with a handful of people, week in and week out. But we never really talk about anything other than the job. It gets kind of...lonely."

"Yes. It does. " Felicia sighed. "I think Renee is a wonderful woman. I hope you two have a chance for something together, if that's what you want."

Stark blushed even as she grinned. "That's what I want... more than anything."

"You 're a sweetheart. I can see why it would be easy to fall for you."

Stark's brows shot through the roof and her mouth dropped open. "Uh~ "

"Oh, you 're perfectly safe, " Felicia pronounced, laughing. "I'm not in the market for a relationship, and if I were, although you 're terribly cute, I'm afraid my tastes run to men. "

"I sort of thought you and Mac... " Stark lifted a shoulder. "Is that off-limits? "

Felicia's dark eyes grew somber. "No, not off-limits. It's just not in the realm of possibility. For me, workplace relationships just aren 't a very good idea. "

"It gets complicated."

"Yes, and, as you know, when you're a woman trying to advance in this hierarchical business, it doesn 't help to be sleeping with a man who's your superior. "

"So it's not that you don't like him?"

"Quite the contrary, " Felicia said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "I like him quite a lot."

"You know, I haven't called Renee yet—to tell her I'm free. We don't have any specific plans...so you're welcome to join us for dinner or something."

"Oh no, I don't think so. " Felicia gave Stark a fond smile. "Go see your girlfriend and have a great evening. "

Riding up in the elevator, Stark was a mass of nerves thinking about what the evening held in store. A great evening. How could it be anything else? I'm going to see Renee,

True to her word, she hadn't thought about that morning or their kiss or the possibility of more while she'd been working. But the minute she'd gone off duty, all she'd been able to think about was the way Renee had felt lying against her—the softness of her mouth, the heat of her skin, the weight of her body. The wonder and excitement had swirled through her depths and settled in the pit of her stomach, surging upward to take her by surprise at unexpected moments. By the time she rapped on the hotel room door, she was shivering with anticipation.

Renee opened the door, took one look at Stark, and gave a small groan. "God, you look so good." Then she reached out, took Stark's hand, and drew her gently into the room. Pushing the door closed with her foot, she settled both arms on Stark's shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her. She kept an inch of space between them, fearing that if their bodies touched, she wouldn't be able to let her go until she had her in bed.

As if sensing Renee's hesitation, Stark rested both hands lightly on her hips but did not step any closer. Instead, she allowed her mouth to convey the depths of her longing. She caressed Renee's lips, sucking and stroking and probing until they were both moaning. When it became impossible to go on without taking a breath, she lifted her lips away a fraction and murmured, "It's so great to see you."

"Yes," Renee breathed.

"Would you like to...go out for dinner or something?"

Renee rested her forehead against Stark's, playing with the hair at the back of her neck, caressing her softly. "There is something I would like to do before the other thing that I'd like to do."

Stark stared at her questioningly. "Translation?"

"I want to see Paris."

"All of it?"

Renee nodded.

"That might take us all night, maybe even longer."

Renee laughed. "Are you tired?"

"I don't think so." Stark brushed her fingers over Renee's cheek and along her jaw. "I don't feel much of anything when I'm with you except you."

Renee's lips parted in surprised pleasure. "You're not allowed to speak until we leave this room. Because every time you say something like that, all I want is to get naked with you."

Stark opened her mouth but Renee swiftly put her fingers against her lips. "Shush. I mean it." Renee's lids grew heavy when she felt Stark's mouth move against her fingers in a soft kiss. "Bad idea." With tremendous effort, she moved away until a foot of neutral ground separated them. "I'm going to get my jacket, and we're going to see Paris."

"Anything you want." Anything at all

CHAPTER TEN

T he Peugeot idled at the curb in front of the entrance to the hotel, Hernandez at the wheel and Reynolds beside him. Blair glanced from them to Cam. "Double-dating?"

Laughing, Cam held the rear door for her. "Just for the vehicular portion of the evening. They're staying outside once we arrive."

"Good." Blair watched out the window as they crossed the Seine and moved slowly through the crowded streets of the Left Bank. "Where's Stark? I thought she was on tonight."

"I rearranged the shifts and gave her some downtime. I want her as lead for the finale tomorrow night."

"Ah yes—the presidential ball." Blair grimaced. "The farewell performance."

Cam reached for her hand and squeezed gently. "Tired?"

"Just the usual travel frazzle." Blair kept her tone and expression light. She'd heard the concern in her lover's voice.

"Will you be glad to go home?"

"Oh God, yes." Blair watched the nightlife pass by outside the window, thinking of how many times she had wished she could lose herself on just such a crowded street, to slip away unnoticed and awaken somewhere else—-to be someone else. With the exception of her clandestine forays into the dark bars and darker hours of so many lost nights, she'd never managed to escape her history or her destiny. Glancing at Cam, she realized that she no longer had any desire to be anyone other than who she was, or to be anywhere else—not as long as she had this one woman's love. "It will be good to get back to New York. I miss painting, and I'm anxious to finish up the last canvases for my show." She smiled and her face was free of worry or regret. "But, despite the circumstances, this has been one of the best trips I've ever had...because you're here."

"There's nothing that I would change about anything," Cam replied seriously, unconsciously echoing Blair's thoughts, "except to give you your freedom."

"Knowing that you understand why it's hard for me sometimes is just as good." Blair gave Cam's hand a small shake. "So will you tell me now where we're going?"

Cam's grin flashed. "Nope."

"There are things I could do to punish you for this, you know."

"I live in hope."

Blair laughed and glanced out the window, raising a brow when she saw the street sign. "Rue Christine. Stein and Toklas's street. Are we going sightseeing?"

"Not exactly."

Hernandez pulled the vehicle to the curb and Cam activated the speaker. "Keep comm channel four open. Parker and Davis are your backup."

"Yes, Commander."

And then Cam opened the door, gestured for Blair to follow, and they were on the street. Alone.

Blair glanced back in surprise when neither of the two agents stepped out to join them. Rarely had Cam acquiesced to fewer than three agents being with her when she was out in public. Perplexed, she glanced at her lover. "Cam?"

Shaking her head, Cam grasped Blair's hand and quickly drew her down the narrow, crowded street to 7 Rue Christine, one of a series of small houses with a tiny landing and stained-glass windows flanking its red painted door. Cam knocked, and a moment later, a petite dark-haired woman wearing a flowing green silk tunic and wide-legged sienna trousers opened the door.

"Cameron!" the beautiful woman exclaimed as she stood on tiptoe and kissed Cam's cheek. The deep brown eyes she turned to Blair were alive with quick intelligence and warm welcome. "Hello."

"Bonita," Cam said with obvious affection, "may I present Blair Powell." Cam smiled at Blair's look of stunned surprise.

"Blair, Bonita Ponte."

"Oh," Blair exclaimed, too taken aback to formulate anything close to a sentence. Then, at the sound of the woman's rich melodious laughter, she came to her senses and extended her hand. "I am so honored, Ms. Ponte, to meet you. I so love your work."

"Please, call me Bonita." She took both Blair's and Cam's hands and drew them into the house, closing the door behind them and leading the way into a luxuriously appointed sitting room. Two sofas of burgundy brocade with hand-carved mahogany frames faced each other in front of a marble fireplace. Thick carpets layered the floor in a riot of color. Above the fireplace hung a painting which Blair recognized as one of Marcea Casells's, Cam's mother and—as was her unexpected hostess—a hero of Blair's.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable." Bonita motioned toward the sitting area. "I'll be right back. I imagine that you are hungry."

"I'll give you a hand," Cam said quickly.

Bonita shook her head with an indulgent smile. "No, you relax. I'm sure you've both had a long day." With that, she swiftly disappeared in a billow of silk.

"Bonita Ponte. God, Cam. How do you know her?" Blair still couldn't quite believe they were in the home of one of the world's foremost Expressionist painters. She loved Ponte's work and had studied her style and technique while an art student in Paris.

"I've known her since I was a child. She and my mother are best friends." Cam lifted a shoulder. "I wasn't sure she would be home while we were here, but I took a chance and called her. Luckily, she just arrived back yesterday from a series of shows in Italy." Blair's expression was hard for Cam to decipher. She'd rarely seen her so subdued. "Is this okay?"

Still adjusting, Blair could barely speak. She wasn't certain which was the greater gift, the opportunity to meet one of her idols or the fact that Cam understood how much it would mean to her. Throat tight, she murmured, "It's wonderful. Thank you so much."

Bonita returned with a small serving cart that held a bottle of champagne on ice, glasses, and assorted hors d'oeuvres.

"I spoke to your mother just recently, Cameron," Bonita said conversationally as she handed them flutes of champagne. "She mentioned that you were able to attend one of her shows not long ago. She was very pleased."

"I'm afraid I've missed far too many, but I'm trying to make up for that."

Bonita gave an insouciant shrug. "She understands that your work is important and demanding." She appraised Cam gently. "You look well. You're...recovered?"

Cam blushed, uncomfortable with any reference to her near-fatal gunshot wound less than a year earlier. "Absolutely fine."

"Good," Bonita stated briskly. Then, she turned to Blair. "And you have a show soon, I understand."

Blair nodded self-consciously. "Just a small exhibit."

"Tell me about it."

Cam leaned back, one ankle crossed over a knee as she sipped champagne and listened to the two artists talk. Even though she was soon lost when the topic turned to narrative rhythm, tonality, variations in scale, and dimensional perspective, the flow of conversation was relaxing. The theory and even the practice of painting were not foreign to her, but the passion that the other two women shared was something only an artist could truly experience. Seeing Blair's unbridled delight, however, was enough to make Cam feel more than satisfied.

Shortly before eleven, Bonita stretched with a sigh of pleasure. "I can't remember having such an enjoyable evening in some time. I'm losing my taste for travel," she said as she looked from Cam to Blair, "but not for good company. I'm so glad you both could come."

"It's been wonderful," Blair agreed.

"Would you like to see the studio?" Bonita asked.

Blair's eyes grew large. "Oh, yes."

Pleased, Bonita rose and extended her hand. "Come with me. You too, of course, Cameron."

After a brief tour and further animated discussion, Bonita said, "I would be so pleased if the two of you could spend the night. It's impossible to really show some of these canvases without daylight." She glanced at Blair. "There are several I think you would enjoy seeing."

"If it isn't an imposition," Blair glanced at Cam, who nodded her assent, "I'd love to."

"Wonderful!" Bonita slid an arm around each woman's waist and drew them down the hall to a guest room at the far end, "Here you are. Everything you need is in the cabinets in the bath." She withdrew toward the door. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to retire. I still haven't quite recovered from my latest sojourn."

"Thanks, Bonita."

"Yes," Blair echoed. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, you don't need to thank me. I'll see you in the morning." She gave them one last smile. "There's no need to rise early. I don't intend to, but if you do, I trust you'll find the coffee on your own."

When they were alone, Blair gazed at Cam with an expression that Cam had rarely seen before. Contemplative, questioning, almost uncertain.

"What is it?" Cam asked, worried. "Didn't you have a good time?"

"Oh no,I had a fantastic time."Blair leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, regarding, her lover with fierce concentration. "I don't understand what's in it for you."

"What?"

Blair frowned, searching for words to describe what baffled her. "Me. Us."

Cam blinked. "You don't know?"

Blair shook her head. "No," she said slowly, softly. "There's so little I can really give you. You brought me here tonight because you knew it would make me happy. And it did...wildly. That you would know that, do that, makes me feel so...loved." She sighed, shook her head again. "I don't even know how to begin to give you that."

"Blair," Cam whispered, her voice deep, her eyes tender. "You don't have to do anything. It's you., just you. For me, the joy is in loving you."

Blair's eyes brimmed with tears and before she could stop them, they spilled over. Cam gave a small cry and quickly took Blair into her arms.

"No," Cam murmured, her lips pressed to Blair's forehead, her fingers gently catching the falling tears. "I wanted tonight to be special. To make you happy, not to make you sad."

"I never thought it would be possible," Blair confessed, her face to Cam's neck, "but I'm actually crying because I'm happy."

Softly, Cam laughed. "Don't scare me, then."

Blair smiled and brushed her palm over Cam's chest. "Did you know that Bonita was going to ask us to stay here tonight?"

"No. But I wouldn't be surprised if she and my mother discussed it."

"I'm not certain if I should be embarrassed or not that your mother is arranging trysts for us." Blair laughed shakily, unused to having so many people care for her.

"I think the tryst is just a side benefit." Cam teased Blair's blouse from her slacks and slipped her hand beneath, massaging her fingertips in the hollow at the base of Blair's spine. "Bonita obviously had a great time talking to you this evening."

"Mmm." The gentle kneading was lulling her mind even as it awakened her flesh. "I hope so. It was amazing for me."

"Are you okay with staying here tonight?" Cam brought her free hand between them and began to work open the buttons on Blair's blouse.

Blair unbuttoned Cam's chinos and slid her fingertips beneath the polo shirt to circle Cam's navel. "I'll stay anywhere with you if we can be alone. Staying here is a dream come true."

"That's good," Cam's voice was husky as she made her way up to unclasp Blair's bra, "because I have a terrible need to spend the night with you."

"Then let's get started." With her eyes locked on Cam's, Blair drew her lover to the bed.

Paula Stark craned her neck and scanned the enormous structure. Spotlighted against the night sky, the Eiffel Tower looked majestic—and really, really tall. "I read somewhere that there are 1665 steps to the top level."

"That's true," Renee agreed reasonably. "But you can't walk to the top level any longer. Only to the second level and then you take an elevator to the final floor. So there aren't really that many steps."

"Oh, I see. 1625 steps, That's much better." There was an edge of sheer terror in Stark's voice. "If we walk all the way up, I'm going to need an ambulance to take me back to the hotel."

Renee laughed. "Oh, come on. You're a Secret Service agent. Besides, I've seen your body. I know you're in great shape."

Even in the dark, Stark had a feeling Renee could see her blush. "When?"

"When, what?"

"Have you ever seen my body?"

"I've seen you in the gym." Renee edged closer in the line to the admissions booth, letting her thigh rub against Stark's. "And besides that, I've had my hands on you. I know just how well built you are."

Stark's step faltered as her legs turned to jelly. She gulped, audibly, she was certain. "You can't say things like that if you want me to climb up hundreds of stairs."

"We can see all of Paris from up there," Renee whispered. She slipped her hand into Stark's, and their fingers entwined as naturally as if they'd touched a thousand times. "I want to remember two things about tonight—seeing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower, and making love with you."

"Oh, jeez," Stark whispered in an agony of arousal and wonder. "I'll climb it twice, if you want."

"I believe you would." Renee swallowed around the lump in her throat. "And that's exactly why I'm crazy about you."

"If you want my legs to work long enough for me to get up to the top of that thing," Stark complained breathlessly, "then you have to stop saying things like that."

Renee laughed and rubbed her cheek against Stark's shoulder. "I can't make you any promises."

Smiling at Renee in the glow of the lights from the monument, Stark swung their joined arms in a slow, easy arc. "That's okay. None are required."

"We can go back to the hotel now," Renee said quietly. "I'm finding it pretty hard to keep my hands off you, and I've made you wait when I'm not even sure why."

"No." Stark realized that there was no hurry, not when every second they spent together—talking, walking, gently touching— was magic. "Let's go to the top and see Paris first. Let's have it all."

"Oh, yes." Renee let caution slip away on the promise in Paula's eyes. "Let's have it all."

2345 16Aug01

The brown-haired, blue-eyed American joined three men and one woman in a third-floor apartment on the outskirts of Paris. The other men, like himself, were dressed casually in open-collared shirts and rumpled trousers. His service weapon was secured at the small of his back beneath his lightweight linen jacket. The thin, sharp-faced blond woman, in dark jeans and a blue work shirt, carried her Vector Mini Uzi automatic pistol in a hip holster on the right side of her wide leather belt. Two Olympic Arms PCR-5 assault rifles lay on the coffee table in front of a frayed, stained sofa.

The room smelled of stale takeout and too many cigarettes. Through an open door on the right that led into what was meant to be a bedroom, he could see the pale glow of computer monitors and assorted communication devices. Before speaking, he removed a small black box the size of a deck of cards from his jacket pocket. When he pushed the power button, a blinking red light appeared.

"We're secure," the woman said impatiently. "Do you think we are amateurs?"

Silently, the American quickly and efficiently swept the room with the surveillance scanner. As he dropped it back into his pocket, he addressed the tail, dark, bearded man who sat on the sofa regarding him impassively. "There was no choice but to abort the mission this afternoon. The premature press release created an unexpected obstacle due to the number of press vehicles and reporters on-site."

"We could have lost our people," the man said flatly. "Why was the order given so late?"

The question was posed with little inflection but the implied criticism was apparent.

The American flushed, but kept his voice even. "The alteration in the motorcade's route was made by the security chief only minutes before arrival."

"That woman is a problem and should be eliminated," the woman pronounced acerbically. "This is the second time she has interfered with our plans."

"No," one of the other men objected. "Any move against her would only alert others of our primary target."

"I agree," the American said, "I recommend-—"

The man on the sofa stood abruptly, and the room fell silent. "I have just received orders from Hydra command. The strike is on schedule, and we have been directed to take her at the same time. By executing both plans simultaneously, we will demonstrate our power to the world just as we expose the soft underbelly of the decaying'American pretenders."

"When—"

"You'll receive your orders from our allies in your country when the time is near. You must be prepared to act at any moment, because the wait will not be long. Our people are already in place. It has begun."

The American felt a thrill of excitement. For years he'd been nothing more than a silent player, providing information while others planned and executed missions. At last, he would have the opportunity to act—-to take back his country and deliver it into the hands of those who understood its true power and destiny. "I am ready."

God Bless America.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

" O oh." Blair sighed with a sensual moan. She stretched, naked, rejoicing in the warmth of Cam's body beside her and the cool cotton covering them both. "How can crisp, clean sheets feel so incredibly wonderful?"

"Happy?" Cam leaned up on an elbow, resting her head on her hand as she drew her fingertips along the edge of Blair's jaw. She marveled at the beauty of Blair's face in the moonlight. Being with her like this, alone in the middle of the night, was a rare occurrence, but one that she knew would never cease to thrill her, no matter how many times she experienced it. Blair was so many things she loved—intelligent, strong, vital, and passionate. She was also very beautiful. And Cam loved to look at her.

"Mmm." Blair started to shift onto her side to see Cam better, but Cam's hand on her shoulder restrained her.

"No," Cam murmured, drawing her fingertips back and forth in the valley between Blair's breasts. "Stay like that. I want to look at you."

The low heavy beat in Cam's voice settled in the pit of Blair's stomach, and her heartbeat quickened. "Just look?"

The corner of her mouth lifted in a grin, and Cam nodded. "For now."

"You've been playing with me quite a lot this evening, Commander," Blair chided just a bit breathlessly. Cam's fingers had shifted onto her breast, although they lay motionless just below her nipple. Even the promise of a touch from those strong, sensitive fingers made her breasts ache and the nipples tighten into hard knots of desire.

"Not nearly as much as I intend to." Cam brushed the sheet down Blair's abdomen with the edge of her hand until it angled across Blair's hips, white and sharp in the moonlight. Cam traced a finger beneath the edge of the cotton, lingering for an instant over the swell of flesh between Blair's thighs.

Involuntarily, Blair raised her hips, but the tantalizing touch was already gone. "What if I told you I'm too tired?"

Cam dipped her head and brushed her lips over the hollow at the base of Blair's throat. With her mouth against the racing pulse, she murmured, "Are you?"

The heat in the pit of Blair's stomach flared, searing her blood. Fighting to keep her voice even, she replied, "I asked you first."

Chuckling as she kissed a spot between Blair's breasts, Cam reached down and pushed the sheet away completely. She trailed her fingers back up the length of Blair's thigh and smoothed her hand along the curve of Blair's hipbone. Then she rested her cheek against the firm rise of Blair's breast and watched the muscles flicker in her lover's abdomen as she walked her fingers along the inside of the arched prominence, over her belly, and up to her navel. She flicked at the gold ring piercing the skin there. Then she caught it between thumb and forefinger and tugged.

Blair gasped, her legs twisting restlessly on the bed as she gripped Cam's shoulder hard.

"If you're tired..." Cam tugged again. "Then I'll just have to put you to sleep."

"How?" Blair's throat was tight with urgency. Patience in bed was not her usual fare. She liked Cam to take her hard and fast, especially the first time—or she liked to have Cam the same way. Perhaps it was because they rarely had the luxury of time on their side; more likely it was due to her relentless hunger for Cam, like an ache in her bones. Whenever she touched Cam, the need to be close to her, to be inside her, to take her inside, obliterated all restraint. But tonight, after all that Cam had given her, she wanted Cam to have exactly what she desired. She would let Cam take her, and she would rejoice in the giving. "Tell me how you'll put me to sleep."

Still toying with the gold ring, Cam flicked her tongue over Blair's nipple. "With my mouth."

"God, I love your mouth on me." Blair couldn't help herself. She was burning from the inside out. Moaning softly, she drove her fingers into Cam's thick hair and pressed her lover's face more firmly to her breast. Still, she went no further, even though she ached for Cam to fill her.

"I know." Cam shifted lower, capturing Blair's leg between her own. She pressed against Blair's firm thigh, knowing that her lover would feel the evidence of her arousal, slick and hot and hard. "And I'm going to kiss you, everywhere, until you come."

"Oh, yes," Blair whispered, pushing up on her elbows to watch Cam suck her nipples, one then the other. Seeing Cam's lips caressing her throbbing flesh and feeling the electric shocks of pleasure at the same time made her shudder and twitch. Watching Cam's hips thrust indolently against her thigh, feeling her lover's passion coat her skin, made her stomach convulse. "I need you to touch me so much. Don't make me wait too long."

"I'm going to make us both wait." Cam eased her hips away a fraction, relieving the exquisite pressure against her screaming nerve endings. She was in danger of climaxing just from the thrill of exciting Blair. "I'm going to touch you everywhere." She danced her fingers down Blair's abdomen, brushed tantalizingly over the heat between Blair's legs, then skimmed lower, stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs. "I need to touch you everywhere."

Strength failing, Blair surrendered, falling back against the pillows with a low whimper. "God, I don't care...do anything... everything. Just don't stop."

The surface of Blair's skin sang. Cam's fingertips painted images of moonlit glades and sun-drenched valleys on the canvas of her mind. Her heart thundered with the joy of loving and being loved. Carried on the inexorable tide of her lover's devotions, she was unaware of the lips caressing her turgid flesh or the mouth that drew her passion forth on a sea of desire. All she knew—in her body, in her soul, in the deepest reaches of her heart—was the woman who claimed her, and freed her, with the power of this love. Cam. Cam.

Her orgasm rose slowly, gathering force from some place far, far beyond her fragile body. Only when the fist of need in her depths opened and pleasure flooded her thighs did she become aware of the relentless joy of Cam's mouth driving her to climax. Panting, she pushed herself up, forced her eyes open, and clenched a hand in Cam's hair. "I want...to watch...you...make me come."

Then the sharp edge of pleasure verged on pain, the muscles shredded from her bones, and her soul soared on the sweet ache of fulfillment. Bent nearly double, she clutched Cam's shoulder as she shuddered and moaned. When the wracking spasms released her, she collapsed onto her side, her fingers still tangled in her lover's hair.

Cam rolled with her, gathering her close and pressing Blair's face to her chest. "I love you. I love you so much."

Blair couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. It wasn't the exquisite orgasm that had stolen her control but the overwhelming emotion that she was unable to contain when Cam touched her. Not just when she touches me. When she looks at me. When she's anywhere near me.

"Baby," Cam murmured tenderly, her cheek resting gently against the top of Blair's head. "We need to get under the covers. You're going to get chilled."

"In a minute," Blair mumbled, wrapping her arms around Cam's waist and burrowing closer. "I feel so good. You feel so good."

Cam laughed and fumbled the sheet partway over Blair's body. "Yeah. I feel pretty terrific."

Blair's head lolled back on Cam's shoulder and she regarded her through heavy eyelids. "Pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

"Pretty much." Cam kissed Blair's nose lightly. "I've been thinking about doing that all night."

"Really." Blair chuckled weakly. "You have remarkable powers of restraint, Commander."

"Not really." Softly, Cam kissed Blair's mouth, tracing her tongue over the full curve of Blair's lower lip. "I came just now— all it took was feeling you let go."

Blair groaned. "Cameron Roberts, you are the sexiest woman I've ever known. If I weren't completely wasted, I would throw you down this moment and ravish you."

Laughing, Cam eased back against the pillows, drawing Blair with her. As she went, she pulled the covers after them until they were cocooned in each other's arms. "There's always the morning."

"Yes," Blair whispered drowsily. Although she knew that wasn't necessarily true, that it might be years before she could go to sleep in her lover's arms and count on awakening with her, she refused to allow anything to dispel her happiness. That, too, was a new sensation—the willingness to accept joy, however fleeting, as the gift it was. "Loving you is the best thing that ever happened to me,"

"Blair," Cam breathed, softly stroking the blond head resting against her shoulder. "You can't know how much that means to me."

"I do know." Blair reached out, found Cam's hand, and entwined their fingers. She drew their joined hands between her breasts, held them against her heart. "I feel it in here. I feel you inside me, loving me. Loving you has made me whole."

"I never intend to stop."

Promise? Blair didn't dare ask.

Cam moved their joined hands to her chest and pressed them to the spot above her heart, unmindful of the scar that marked it. "I promise."

There were two levels at the top of the monument, one inside and one outside, offering a 360-degree panoramic view of Paris and its environs for 80 kilometers in every direction. The night was clear, and although it was summer, at 280 meters above ground level, the air was cool. It was also nearly midnight, and there were very few visitors on the outside observation deck. Below them the city sparkled, lights blazing like fiery jewels. The wind ruffled Stark's hair as she leaned forward to capture as much of the view as possible. She held Renee's hand, grateful for the contact, needing to feel grounded as the diz2ying heights left her disoriented.

"It's really incredible, isn't it?" Stark raised her voice above the wind, her eyes bright with a shimmer of tears. She could write that off to the effects of the wind, but the tightness in her chest wasn't due to the weather or the elevation. All she could think as she stood on the edge of Wonderland were the quiet words of the woman beside her. I want to remember two things about tonight: seeing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower and making love with you.

Renee wasn't looking at the view. Stark's face glowed with youthful enthusiasm as her dark hair whipped about her face. Her fingers gripped Renee's tightly, and her voice had been husky with emotion. I hope you never learn to hide your feelings.

"Beautiful." Renee moved closer and threaded her arm around Stark's waist beneath her jacket and leaned her head against the sturdy shoulder. You 're so beautiful

Stark slid her arm around Renee. "I'm really glad you let me ride the elevator. If you hadn't, I probably would have had to lie down when we got up here, and then I would have missed the view."

"I'm sure you could have made it," Renee assured her, "but I really didn't want to tire you out so soon. I have other plans for doing that."

Stark gave a slight jerk, then turned her face from the view and met Renee's eyes. "You know, I'm constantly excited when I'm near you. Actually, I'm constantly excited most of the time just thinking about you. So it would be good if you didn't remind me of it too often, because I think I'm starting to get tissue damage."

Renee cupped her hand behind Stark's head and drew her close. She kissed her, unmindful of the occasional person passing by. Part of the reason she had been able to wait as long as she had before dragging Stark into bed was that kissing Paula Stark was an experience in itself. Stark's lips were full and warm and incredibly inquisitive, coursing over Renee's in a continuous wave of soft caresses and tender sucks. Every now and then, she'd feel a tiny pinpoint of pain that was quickly soothed by the gentle stroke of a warm tongue, and she'd realize that she'd been bitten. The surprise, the pleasure, the shifting sensations, first gentle then demanding, settled deep in her core and made her ache with wanting. But the hunger was so enjoyable that she was happy to let it rage unanswered. At least she had been. Now with every passing second it was becoming more and more difficult to hold her need at bay. She pulled her head back, gasping. "I want you. God."

Stark rested both arms gently around Renee's waist, their thighs lightly touching. They were alone again in their small section of the monument, with all of Paris at their feet. She couldn't quite believe that this incredible woman wanted her. If Renee only knew that she hadn't a clue as to how to please her, or even how to begin to show her how much she wanted to be with her. Other than a few less-than-memorable forays into relationships with men, which she had been more than willing to set aside when she entered the training academy, she'd had one night of true passion. And that night had been with a woman she did not love and who did not love her. It had been unforgettable—an epiphany, both physical and emotional—and she couldn't honestly say now that she regretted it. It had been an important part of her self-awakening, but the fevered lust had been an inferno, leaving nothing in its wake but ashes. And in those few heated hours, she'd done little more than allow herself to be consumed. "There's something I have to tell you."

Hearing something close to self-recrimination in Stark's voice, Renee tilted her head, then shook it slowly. "No, there isn't. Unless there's someone else, right now, there isn't a thing you need to tell me."

"There isn't anyone. That's what I wanted to say. There never has been anyone. A few hours, once, but—"

"Are you trying to tell me that you're inexperienced?"

Mutely, Stark nodded, glad for the darkness to hide her humiliation. "I want.. I want tonight to be everything you hope it will be. And I—"

"Oh God," Renee murmured. She framed Stark's face in her hands. "Sweetheart, it already is what I hoped for. More, even." In the moonlight, she saw the fleeting look of consternation cross Stark's face. "You don't know, do you?"

Feeling more inept every second, Stark shook her head again.

"When I'm with you," Renee said gently, stroking the bold, strong angle of Stark's jaw, "everything is new. Because of you... because of your kindness and your tenderness and your honesty. Nothing before tonight matters, because tonight—with you—will be the first time it's ever been right for me."

Stark's heart fluttered, and she was glad for the hold she had on the woman in her arms, because, for an instant, she felt as if she could fly. "Would you mind if we left now? I just don't think I'll be good for anything else until I can hold you with nothing between us."

"That sounds just exactly like what I need."

Arms around each other's waists, they cast one last glance at the City of Light, then headed for the elevator and the promise of the night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S tark stared at the numbers on the rectangular panel to the right of the elevator doors as they slowly ascended. Renee stood silently beside her, the fingers of her right hand lightly wrapped around Stark's forearm. She could feel the heat even through the brushed cotton of her blazer. 12... 13... 14...With each passing floor, her heart rate accelerated and the roiling in her stomach ratcheted up a notch.

I'm going to blow it. I don't even know what she likes. I'm not even sure I'd know how to do it even if I did know what she likes.

The elevator glided to a stop with a barely perceptible hitch. For what seemed like an eternity, Stark thought the doors might not open. Then she found herself in the hallway outside room 2010 watching Renee slide the key card through the lock. She cleared her throat and resisted the urge to shuffle her feet. Instead, she dutifully followed Renee inside and stood waiting while Renee reached behind her, removed the Do Not Disturb sign, and hung it outside on the door handle.

Oh my God.

Uncertain of the next move, Stark remained statue-still while Renee locked the door, set the security chain in place, and moved around the room to turn on a few lights. Mouth dry, heart jackhammering in her ears, Stark searched frantically for something to say.

My legs are numb. I can 't feel my hands. Jesus, what if I can't come. She'll think I don't like it. Don't like her.

Renee twisted the dimmer switch until the lights in the sitting area were barely a faint glow. Then she crossed back to Stark and slipped both hands inside the edges of the dark blue blazer, resting her palms against Stark's chest, her fingertips riding the edges of her collarbones. She gently smoothed her hands back and forth.

"This isn't a test. There's no right or wrong way to do it. There's just us...together...touching."

The sound of Renee's calm, kind voice, the brilliant light in her eyes, the warm welcoming touch of her hands—those were the things that quelled Stark's anxiety and left her smiling. She cupped her palm to the back of Renee's neck and leaned forward, skimming her lips over Renee's. Lost in the soft heat of Renee's mouth, she didn't think beyond the next caress or any further than the small nip of flesh and the moan of pleasure the gentle bite elicited. She couldn't be nervous when Renee was all she knew.

Wrapping her arms around Stark's solid waist, Renee sighed and tilted her head back, her eyes liquid. "You're so damn good at that."

"What?" Stark's voice was husky as she slowly worked her hand between Renee's sweater and the blouse beneath, circling her palm over Renee's lower back, loving the way the strong muscles tensed beneath her fingers through the thin covering of silk.

"Kissing. You're an amazing kisser."

"Yeah?" Stark grinned. "Then I have a suggestion."

Renee struggled to follow the conversation as the lower half of her body turned molten under Stark's hands. It wasn't even an intentionally seductive caress, just a steady massage of fingertips along her spine, and yet, her thighs trembled. What will happen to me when those fingers finally touch my skin? She moaned softly, then sharply caught her breath at the rapid flutter of excitement in the depths of her belly. She forced herself to focus. "What?"

"Since I'm doing okay in the kissing department, let's just lie down and start there."

"Good idea." Renee took Stark's hand. "I don't know why I didn't think of it myself." Except none of my brain cells seem to be firing at the moment, and all the blood in my body is headed in the opposite direction.

Renee left the lamps off in the bedroom, but enough illumination filtered through from the room beyond to light their way. Once at the bedside, she lifted off her cashmere sweater and tossed it onto the back of a nearby chair. Since she was in Paris on vacation, she wasn't carrying her weapon. But Stark was, and after removing her blazer, she slid the holster from her waistband with the kind of practiced move that was automatic and set it on the night table. Renee kicked off her shoes as Stark sat on the side of the bed and removed hers.

Stark looked up to find Renee watching her with a half-smile on her face. "What?"

"Still nervous?"

"Some."

"We don't have to rush."

"You don't have to go slow just for me, you know. I might fumble, but I'll keep up."

Renee moved closer to stand between Stark's parted thighs. She worked her fingers into the seated woman's hair, slowly drawing the thick dark strands between her fingers. "I have every confidence that you won't drop the ball, Paula." She tilted Stark's head back and leaned down, starting her own exploration of Stark's full, sensuous lips. She sucked lightly before sliding her tongue along the inner surfaces, closing her eyes as a wave of heat and longing washed through her. Her mouth still brushing Stark's, she murmured, "I'm going slowly for me."

Stark put both hands on Renee's waist and dropped back on the bed, bringing the other woman with her. Together, they rolled to the center until they were facing each other, gently embracing. Stark brushed her fingers through Renee's wavy hair. "In the academy I had a reputation for being the most persistent cadet— not the smartest or the fastest, but the one that never gave up. And I always finished everything I started."

"I'm not worried a bit about you finishing anything," Renee whispered. "But I want to enjoy every minute of getting there."

"I think we can do that." Stark wrapped one arm more tightly around Renee's waist, drawing her close as she found her mouth again. At first, she kept her eyes open, hoping not to miss one second of the experience. After a few moments, however, the pleasure, carried on the rapid rush of blood through the muscles and sinew of her body, forced her to close her eyes. The sensations were far too sweet, the ache too deep, to do anything more than fly with them. Distantly, above the roar of her own heart thundering, she heard Renee moan softly. It was a high, sweet sound of longing and surrender. Desire surged from her depths, and without conscious thought, she roiled onto her back, drawing Renee on top of her, desperately needing to bring her closer.

"Oh God," Renee murmured as she fit her thighs and belly and breasts to Stark's, suddenly feeling her everywhere. They were both still fully clothed, but her skin tingled as if there were no barriers between them. "You feel so good."

Stark pulled the blouse from Renee's slacks and smoothed both hands up either side of her spine, fanning her fingers over the finely muscled back. She gasped when Renee pressed her hips into her, striking a spot that made her stomach clench and her breath catch on a groan. "You...too." She brought one hand between them and touched the top button of Renee's blouse. "Can I?"

"Oh...yes." Stunned by the sweetness of the question, Renee was forced to close her eyes against the swift surge of excitement that beat again between her thighs. Too soon. Too soon to feel so much. But she couldn't stop the feelings, either in her body or her heart. Shifting to straddle Stark's hips, she made room for the agile fingers that opened each button on her blouse with careful deliberation. She loved that about Stark-—how careful she was with everything. As the silk parted over her breasts, exposing the scant lacy bra she wore beneath, she shrugged her shoulders and let the garment fall behind her. With one hand, she reached down and tugged Stark's shirt from beneath the waistband of her pants, pushing it up until her abdomen was bare. Then she lay back down upon her, moaning softly as their sldn touched in that one small spot.

Instinctively, Stark cupped Renee's hips and pulled her tightly between her legs. She couldn't seem to get close enough to her. Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she gasped, "I feel like something inside of me is breaking apart, I want you so much."

Renee pressed her face to the curve of Stark's neck, fighting to still the motion of her hips. She wasn't ready to let go yet, but the movement was too stimulating for her to hold off for long. "The things you say..the way you touch me. You break my heart."

"Renee..."

"In a good way." Then Renee kissed her again, pushing up just enough to slip her fingers between them and pull open the buttons on Stark's shirt. As she slid a trembling hand inside, over the silk tank top beneath, Stark smoothed a hand up her back and opened the clasp on her bra. As her breasts were released, Renee moaned at the sudden freedom and the unexpected heaviness of the arousal swelling them. She arched her neck, her stomach quivering. "Touch me. Please."

Stark was very much afraid she might pass out. Even though she was lying down, she was breathing so quickly it felt as if no air was actually traversing her lungs. Her heart was a wild thing trying to tear its way from her chest. What had started as a distant pulse in the pit of her stomach had grown into a fist hammering between her thighs. Still, her hand seemed to move in slow motion as she raised her fingertips to brush lightly over the pebbled peak of Renee's breast. The small cry it drew from the woman in her arms tore through her like a knife. She could bleed to death on the beauty of that sound.

"I want..." There were no words. She wasn't even certain there was any way, any way at all, to possibly convey with her earthbound body the magnitude of her emotions. But she had no language beyond the touch of her hand and the caress of her mouth. She raised her hips and turned, carrying Renee to her back as she shifted upon her. At the same time, she lowered her head and tenderly took Renee's nipple into her mouth, enclosing it gently, carefully.

Even with Stark's weight upon her, Renee arched off the bed, lifting them both as the sweet agony centered in her breast. "Oh my God."

Startled by her own actions, Stark moved her mouth away. "Did I hur—"

Renee drove her fingers into Stark's hair and forced her mouth back onto her breast. Gasping, she pleaded, "Don't stop. Please. Please."

Stark closed her eyes, fearing that she couldn't have stopped even if asked. Renee's fingers dug into her shoulders and she was moving— they were moving—in urgent tandem now. Thigh between thigh, belly to belly, they drove each other higher. She sucked the stone-hard nipple, reveling in the small sounds that Renee made, finding the other breast with her hand and squeezing to the same rhythm as her lips played on the swollen breast in her mouth. She might have gone on forever, lost in the sweet power of the moment, except another ache clamored for attention. A terrible pressure, insistent and unrelenting, throbbed in her depths. She turned her face and pressed her cheek to Renee's breast. "Can we..." She lost her breath as Renee curled one leg over the back of her thigh and pushed up into her hard, striking the spot between her legs that threatened to explode. "Oh...jeez...clothes...can we get undressed?"

"Yes. God yes." Before the words had left her, Renee was tugging at Stark's shirt, desperate to strip it from her.

Rolling away, Stark fumbled at the buttons and zipper of her fly, her hands clumsy with urgency. It seemed to take forever, but it was only seconds before they were naked and reaching for each other again.

Time slowed. The room, the world outside it, even the susurrous rustle of the sheets beneath their bodies dissolved into silent wonder.

"Paula..." Renee cupped her palm against Stark's cheek, meeting her eyes as the lengths of their bodies touched for the first time. She caught back a sob of delighted surprise at the first brush of soft smooth skin.

"Renee." Stark cradled Renee's head in the bend of her arm and glided her hand down her side, over her hips to her thigh, imprinting every curve and line of her sleek, firmly muscled form in her mind. She'd imagined it—dreamed it—countless times, but nothing she'd conjured in her mind came anywhere close to the reality. "Tell me what you like."

"You," Renee murmured, quivering beneath Stark's hands. "You are exactly what I like."

Stark pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of Renee's throat, awestruck at the beauty of the pulse pounding through the vessels just beneath the skin. So fragile, so strong, so very much Renee. Tenderly, she brought her mouth to the scar slanting over Renee's left shoulder, shivering with the memory of the gunshot and her own terror as that precious life ebbed away on a tide of blood. "Don't let me hurt you—-you're still healing."

"Oh, no." Renee stroked Stark's cheek. "You won't. I know it"

Stark raised her head, her eyes dark with yearning. "Help me please you. I want to so much."

Renee tightened her hold as she turned onto her back, drawing Stark above her. She wrapped her arms around Stark's shoulders and her legs around Stark's hips. Pressing her mouth to Stark's ear, she whispered, "I like you on top of me, pressing down into me. It makes me want to come."

That request was easy to fulfill, because Stark didn't have any choice but to rock into her. The pleasure inside of her was screaming to get out, to burst free, to explode from her on a flood of sweet agony. They found the rhythm easily, body to body, heart to heart, and together, they rode the wild edge of desire. Stark groaned. Renee was hot and wet against her own ready flesh, and she shivered as a familiar tingling began to ripple along her spine. "I think..." She struggled for breath. "I think if we keep this up, I might..come first."

"Oh, yes. Yes. Paula, let me feel you."

I shouldn't..I should wai...Oh God Oh...God..."I'm coming," Stark gasped desperately, her breath sobbing out. "I'm...sorry."

"Oh sweetie." Renee fitfully stroked Stark's cheek, her hair, her back as her own passion rose. "It's okay. It's wonderful."

Still shuddering, eyes dim with the last shock of release, Stark braced herself on her forearms and watched Renee's face as, together, they continued their frantic thrusts. Hips churning, they pushed harder, rocked faster, slid against each other in a hot slick wash of need. Renee's eyes were nearly closed, her fips parted almost in surprise, her head tilted back. She looked vulnerable and glorious. In the distant reaches of her consciousness, Stark was aware of her own excitement condensing once more into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach, gathering force for another explosion that threatened to rend her soul beyond redemption. But that pleasure was nothing compared to the sight and sounds of Renee's desire. She wanted, hungered, for more.

"I want to be inside you," Stark implored.

"Hurry." Renee's stomach fluttered and her legs tensed. "I'm so close."

But Stark did not hurry. She eased onto her side and smoothed her palm down the center of Renee's body, over the hard quivering muscles in her abdomen and between her clenched thighs. Instantly, she felt the heat against the palm of her hand, and she drew gentle fingers through the wet, slick folds.

Renee's hips bucked as Stark circled her clitoris, and she gave a startled moan. "There. Oh, yes, there."

Stark forgot to breathe. She forgot her own need. She forgot that she'd never done this before. All she knew was the hard, full heart of Renee 's desire and the terrible wonderful desperate longing to touch all of her, to the depths of her soul. When she slipped inside, she was immediately enclosed by hot smooth muscles. She heard Renee's breath catch as she pressed deeper. As she eased out and stroked back in, Renee came in her hand with one sharp cry.

Buried in her, Stark stilled her motion, letting Renee's orgasm play around her fingers. Then, as the ripples faded, she gently massaged the spot that made Renee whimper until she brought her once again to orgasm. She might have continued for the rest of her life if Renee hadn't finally grasped her forearm with a weak laugh.

"Paula, sweetie, stop, I have to catch my breath."

"Can I stay inside?" Stark brushed her lips over Renee's.

"Mmm."

"You feel...amazing."

"Oh God...you have no idea." Renee pulled Stark's head down onto her shoulder and rested her cheek against the top of Stark's head. She ran her fingers up and down Stark's strong forearm, marveling as she reached her own body and felt Stark's fingers disappear inside her. "You're wonderful"

"I've got this huge terrible...ache...inside." Stark shuddered, struggling to put words to the emotions that choked her. "Like if I can't be connected to you—not just connected, but inside you somehow—I might just die."

"You're inside more than my body, Paula," Renee murmured with a drowsy sigh.

I hope so. I hope I'm in your heart, like you are in mine.

"I'm sorry," Renee whispered. "I feel so good...so damn good. Tired."

Stark lay quietly, listening to Renee's breathing become deep and regular, feeling her muscles loosen as she relaxed into sleep. After a time, she tenderly withdrew from her, missing the joining immediately. She drew up the covers and closed her eyes, thinking that she might just have experienced her life's finest moment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

F or the second time in as many days, Blair had the rare pleasure of awakening with Cam beside her. But the greater gift was that, as on the previous morning, Cam still slept. They'd awakened together infrequently, but Cam had always arisen first. Used to sleeping alone, Blair discovered that she enjoyed awakening to the comforting heat,of another body pressed close. As long as it was Cam. She'd rarely spent the night with any lover, not because of protocol or caution—as was the case with the woman she loved— but out of choice. Finding herself in the arms of a stranger was not an experience she had welcomed. Finding herself with Cam's arm thrown possessively across her middle was joy.

Blair slid carefully from Cam's embrace to the edge of the bed and slowly slipped from beneath the sheets. Standing quietly in the small, still room, she glanced down at her slumbering lover. Even in repose, Cam's expression was intense. Dark brows slashed across a bold forehead, and the strong profile spoke of strength and determination. Blair loved the way Cam's body reflected her soul. She could never look at her without wanting to touch her, hoping somehow to convey the depth of her love when words failed. She resisted the urge now, because the sight of Cam asleep was almost as pleasurable as a caress.

At that moment, Cam appeared as carefree as Blair had ever seen her, and she was loath to disturb her. Scooping up her clothes, she stole to the bedroom door, hurriedly donned her blouse and slacks, and stepped into her shoes. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she made her way through the quiet house toward the kitchen in the rear. To her surprise, she found that she was not the only one already up. Bonita stood by an open door through which Blair could see a small courtyard with carefully tended flower beds and two wooden benches.

Bonita turned as Blair entered the kitchen. "Good morning. I didn't expect to see you up so early."

"Nor I you," Blair rejoined with a smile. "Didn't you say you were going to sleep in?"

"I'm afraid my mind had other ideas. I woke with a million thoughts in my head and decided I was never going to get back to sleep."

Blair laughed quietly. "I know exactly what you mean."

"I was about to go out to pick up a few things for breakfast. Are you in the mood for a walk?"

"Cam's still asleep."

"We shouldn't be long. It's only a block or so."

She doesn 't know. She doesn 't realize that I never just go out for a walk. Blair hesitated. She felt foolish saying no, and almost embarrassed to admit that she probably shouldn't do something as simple as walk to the corner store without notifying Cam or one of the other agents. God, it's just for a few minutes, and the security detail is right out front They'll pick me up as soon as I walk out the door. Cam can't be upset about that. She realized that Bonita was waiting for her to reply.

"I'd love to."

"Good," Bonita replied, opening the rear door and holding it for Blair. "Let's walk through the courtyard. The bakery is on the street behind us."

Suddenly, Blair realized that if they went out the back of the house, the agents in front would not see them leave. No one knows that I'm here, and no one is going to recognize me. It's safe. Feeling reassured, she hurried to join her hostess.

The instant Cam opened her eyes, she knew that something was wrong. In a single, swift motion, she threw the sheets aside and bounded to her feet, scanning the room. Blair's clothes were gone. Heart pounding, she pulled on her pants, shrugged into her shirt, and, sockless, kicked into her shoes. She grabbed her shoulder harness from the chair and shrugged into it as she ran from the room. "Blair?"

The house was silent.

Ten seconds later, she was on the street and sprinting toward the black Peugeot parked five cars down from Bonita's front door. The passenger door opened and Felicia stepped out, her face calm but her eyes intense. "Commander?"

"Egret's not in the house."

"No one has been in or out of the house since I arrived at 0600," Felicia reported immediately, her tone crisp and controlled. "According to the night shift, everything was quiet after you and Egret entered the premises at 1949 last evening."

"Christ. " A muscle in Cam's jaw jumped. "There's no way I would've slept through an abduction." She took a breath. "I'll check the house again. She may have left a note."

"Should we initiate a search?"

Cam shook her head. "Not yet. I want you here with the vehicle in case we need to pursue or relocate quickly. Stand by while I assess the need for backup."

"Yes, Commander."

Once inside, Cam headed directly to the rear of the house. If anyone had entered during the night, it would not have been through the front door, which had been under constant surveillance. She checked the door that she discovered in the kitchen, examining the lock and the frame for evidence of tampering. She found none. Eyes narrowing, she surveyed the tiny courtyard enclosed by the homes on Bonita's street and those on the block behind it.

I should've posted someone out here. Christ Almighty, I wasn't even thinking about it.

Why she hadn't been thinking about it was a problem for another time. Her stomach tight, a fierce headache beating just behind her eyes, Cam made a rapid but thorough reconnaissance of the rest of the ground floor and then returned upstairs. She found nothing disturbed and no evidence of a struggle anywhere. When she checked the bedroom she and Blair had shared, looking for a note, the crumpled sheets were a stark reminder of just how quickly passion could turn to peril. And how fleeting joy. Blair. Jesus, where are you?

Grimly, she started back down once more. It was time to institute a formal search. At the bottom of the stairs, she heard a faint sound coming from the rear of the house. It took less than ten seconds for her to reach the kitchen, weapon drawn and trained on the back door.

"Cam?"

Blair stood in the doorway, holding a paper bag with a long slender loaf of bread protruding from it, a shocked expression on her face. Behind her, Bonita stared, her eyes wide, her face pale.

"God, Cam!" Blair cried. "What's wrong?"

Weapon pointed at the ceiling now, Cam moved swiftly to Blair's side. "Step inside, both of you." Once the women were behind her, she turned sideways in the doorway and scanned the courtyard. It was empty. She looked up automatically, but all the windows facing the small, carefully tended common space were empty, nothing more than blank eyes gazing back. She holstered her automatic and closed the door behind her, then turned and met Blair's questioning eyes. "Are you all right?" Her voice was harsh, her gray eyes hard as granite.

"Yes." Blair spoke quietly, seeing with brutal clarity how her absence had been misinterpreted. "I'm sorry. We were only gone a few minutes."

"You should have told me. You should have alerted the team out front." Cam's voice was clipped, her body rigid with the lingering effects of adrenaline and fear. Fear was a sensation she had never before associated with her work. But Blair was her lover, not just her responsibility. If anything happened to you...

"We just went for a walk." Blair's heart ached to see the cold expression on her lover's face, devoid of tenderness and filled with fury. Fury, and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

"Alone. Alone, Blair. Unprotected."

"Cameron," Bonita said gently, seeing what Blair could not, "Blair's fine."

Cam spun toward her, her dark eyes snapping. "That's not the point!"

In a voice that sounded eerily like Marcea's, Bonita replied softly, "Isn't it?"

The gentle tone, the even gentler hint of a reprimand, instantly dissolved Cam's anger. She sighed and nodded, the tension suddenly replaced by weariness. "Yes." She looked from Bonita to her lover.

"That's all that matters."

"I'm sorry," Blair said softly again. "I thought—"

"No." Cam crossed to Blair and slipped her hand beneath the hair at the back of Blair's neck, caressing her tenderly. "I'm sorry."

As Bonita slipped from the room, Blair rested her cheek against Cam's shoulder and wrapped both arms around her waist. The automatic weapon in the shoulder holster against Cam's left side pressed against her breast, a harsh reminder of the complex boundaries that defined their relationship. "I meant to be back before you woke up. God, Cam, I didn't think about what would happen if you woke up before I got back."

"I can't believe I didn't feel you leave the bed—again." Eyes closed, Cam rested her cheek against Blair's hair, one hand stroking up and down her back. "That's completely unlike me."

"I love that you were still asleep when I left. I so rarely have the opportunity to see you like that." Blair pressed her lips to Cam's throat, whispered a kiss against her skin. "I liked to imagine it was our lovemaking that made you sleep so deeply."

"It did." Cam kissed Blair's temple. "When we make love, it always relaxes me." At Blair's short laugh, she added quickly, "Well, after it's over at least."

"Oh, darling." Blair tilted her chin and kissed the underside of Cam's jaw. "I never meant for you to worry."

"I know." Cam dipped her head and brought her lips to her lover's. The heat of Blair's mouth and the beat of her heart against Cam's chest helped to right her world. Blair was safe. "You didn't do anything wrong, Blair. It's not wrong to want to live like the rest of the world."

"Just not wise." There was sadness as well as resignation in Blair's voice.

"No. But I have no complaints." Cam caressed Blair's cheek, drawing her fingers slowly down Blair's neck. "I know how difficult it is for you to accept being guarded twenty-four hours a day, and I know that you've been trying. I appreciate it."

Blair shook her head. "God, Cameron. Don't thank me for being responsible. Not when you and the others put your lives on the line for me."

"That's not what this is about. This is about keeping you safe—" she pressed her fingers to Blair's lips to still the protest that she knew was coming. "And not just because you matter in some theoretical way. But because you, Blair Powell, are a special woman." She moved her fingers and kissed her lover's mouth again. "And I, among others, love you."

"You're the only one who matters," Blair murmured and she lifted a hand to Cam's neck, threaded her fingers into Cam's hair, and took the kiss deeper.

Cam groaned as Blair's tongue slid into her mouth and took possession. She was helpless when Blair touched her. Helpless when Blair smiled at her. Helpless just looking at her. Helplessly, hopelessly in love. The enormity of her need struck deep in the core of her, igniting her passion as well as her terror at how easily she could lose everything, and she trembled.

Blair felt Cam shiver and held her closer. She moved her mouth away, pressing herself tightly to her lover. "It's all right. I'm here, and I always will be."

Eyes closed, Cam nodded and fought for control. As her mind cleared and she banished the memories of loss, she laughed shakily. "You undo me."

"You seem to tilt my world too, Commander." Blair stroked her fingers through Cam's hair, tenderly now. "I have never before apologized to my security chief for breaking rank."

"I have an unfair advantage." Cam grinned. "You probably weren't sleeping with any of them."

"Mmm. Probably not." Blair's eyes danced when she saw her lover's spark. "Never wanted to—although there was this one state trooper..."

"Blair," Cam growled.

"All right." Blair laughed and patted Cam's cheek. "I won't tease you until after coffee."

"I need to advise the team that you're here."

Instantly, Blair's expression became serious. "Of course. Can we stay for breakfast with Bonita?"

"Blair, please," Cam said gently. "You don't need anyone's permission for something like that. I just need to know your plans so that I can do what needs to be done."

"I know. What I meant to say was, how do you feel about having breakfast with Bonita?"

Cam smiled. "I'd love that." She trailed her fingers over Blair's cheek and then kissed her lightly one more time. "I'll be right back."

On her return from advising Davis of the all clear, Cam came upon Bonita in the sitting room. "I'm sorry for frightening you earlier. Would we be overstaying our welcome if we had that breakfast you and Blair had planned?"

"That would be wonderful." Bonita rose from the sofa and linked her arm with Cam's. "Is everything all right now?"

"Yes. And.. .thank you, for helping me see what really mattered this morning."

"You're much too hard on yourself, Cameron. It's a difficult path that you've chosen to walk, loving her and protecting her at the same time."

"Aren't they always one and the same?"

"Of course, but in your case, the two are more at odds than they normally are." Bonita smiled as they began to walk. "If I were Blair and you were my lover, I would feel very well taken care of."

"Thank you," Cam said softly.

"You must try to let her take care of you, also. A lover needs that."

Cam stopped in the hallway just outside the kitchen and regarded Bonita with a raised eyebrow. "Have you and my mother been conspiring?"

Bonita laughed with delight. "When two people have been friends for as long as your mother and I, and have watched someone like you grow up, it's impossible for either of us not to mother."

"Like me?" Cam repeated, genuinely confused.

"Responsible and dedicated." Bonita patted Cam's cheek. "And so charmingly valiant."

Cam blushed. "I...thank you, Bonita."

"Come. Let's have our coffee and enjoy one another."

As they stepped into the kitchen and Cam's eyes met Blair's, she smiled. "Yes. Let's do that."

In Florida, in a domed, aluminum-sided hangar nearly the size of a football field, a man sat behind the controls of a flight simulator and practiced landing a jumbo jet He had been enrolled in the flight school for six weeks and had very nearly perfected the techniques needed to alter the in-flight directional patterns of the huge aircraft. When the time came for him to put his new skills to the test, he knew that he would not fail. He had spent the last six years of his life planning for the grand moment that was soon to come. When he was called upon, he would be ready to play his part in the greatest holy war ever waged. Smiling, he reset the simulator to reflect the control panels of a commercial airliner cruising at 30,000 feet and continued to train for his mission.

Renee leaned on an elbow, her chin propped in her palm, and gazed at her hand resting in the center of Stark's abdomen. Her own coffee-colored skin stood out boldly against Stark's naturally pale complexion. The contrast reminded her of how different they were. Stark was so steady, so solid, so willing to give of herself.

And me? What am I, really? Not as trusting as I used to be, if I ever really was. When did I stop believing in someone like you? When did I stop dreaming?

Stark shifted and her lids fluttered. The twitch of muscles beneath Renee's fingers ignited an answering tremor in her depths. She remembered the way Stark had felt inside of her, taking her so effortlessly—knowing instinctively what she needed and giving her such sweet pleasure.

You were so good. So very good. And I fell asleep on you, didn't I, sweetie?

Need rose within her, tight and urgent. But as fiercely as the arousal gripped her, her touch remained gentle. Watching Stark's face, she stroked her abdomen, slowing when Stark murmured restlessly, then resuming when she quieted, moving lower with each tender caress. Touching her, recalling Stark's hands, she grew instantly wet. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, determined to ignore the sudden pounding between her legs. Cautiously, she inched down on the bed, smoothing her fingers along the inside of Stark's thigh.

She could feel the heat in Stark's skin, and the answering flames within her own yearning flesh soared. All thought fled. Only sensation remained. The rich scent of their desire, the satin-smooth skin slick beneath her fingertips, the soft sigh of Stark's breath in counterpoint to Renee's ragged gasps. Resting her breasts against Stark's thigh, she lowered her head and placed a single, careful kiss between Stark's legs.

"Renee," Stark said hoarsely, resting her hand on the back of Renee's head. She'd opened her eyes and nearly cried out with the sweet pleasure of Renee's mouth against her clitoris. "God. Oh... jeez."

Never moving her head, Renee reached up with one arm and placed her palm between Stark's breasts, holding her gently but firmly in place. "Don't move. Just feel."

At the words, Stark's hips twitched and her legs tightened. Her fingers trembled in Renee's hair. "Could you...do that again?"

"Mmm. I was planning to." Renee closed her eyes tightly against another surge of arousal. She was in danger of giving in to the insistent pulse of her own desire when she wanted so very much to please Stark this time. Careful to keep her body from brushing Stark's, uncertain that she could avoid the temptation to assuage her need with a few well-placed thrusts, she shifted until she lay between Stark's legs. Wrapping both arms around her lover's thighs, she glanced up to find Stark's eyes, wide and slightly glazed, upon her face. "Good morning."

Stark swallowed and traced her fingers over Renee's cheek. Her voice was a weak whisper, but her smile was brilliant. "The best."

Renee couldn't wait any longer. She needed to give; she needed to take; she needed to lose herself in the sweet ecstasy of her lover's excitement. She used her lips and mouth lightly at first, alternating kisses with languid strokes of her tongue. Each fleeting touch wrenched a small sound of pleasure from Stark's throat that struck hard in her own center. By the time Stark's clitoris had hardened with an approaching climax, she was about to explode herself. Still, she fought back the waves of release trembling in the pit of her stomach and teased Stark's passion to bursting in her mouth.

"Renee," Stark cried out in shocked surprise. "You're making me come."

The sound of Stark's pleasure and the pulse of her orgasm against Renee's lips brought an ache so sharp to her own flesh that she reached automatically to soothe it. At the first brush of her fingertips against her clitoris, she came.

Groaning with the spasms twisting through her depths, Renee caressed Stark with soft kisses and softer strokes of her tongue until the last pulsations dwindled away. Breathing heavily, she managed to move up the bed before collapsing on her side with one arm around Stark's waist. "God. God, you're so gorgeous."

Stunned, Stark pressed her cheek to Renee's breast and clung to her. "I can't... I feel...oh, Renee."

Laughing quietly, her heart feeling lighter than she could ever recall, Renee brushed her lips over Stark's forehead. "Good, right? You feel good?"

Stark leaned her head back, laughing too, and finally managed to focus on the beautiful face gazing at her with such tenderness that she wanted to weep. "No. Not good. Fabulous." Renee's lips lifted into a satisfied smile. "Me too." "We don't have to get up just yet, do we?" Stark nuzzled Renee's breast and drew the already taut nipple into her mouth. She smiled at Renee's quick gasp.

"Oh, sweetie...not if you're going to keep doing that."

"I was planning to."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C am stood in a ballroom with a vaulted cathedral ceiling, centuries-old works of art lining the walls and adorning marble pedestals and a symphony orchestra playing in the background. The atmosphere was lush and elegant, the room filled with diplomats and all manner of European aristocracy. She saw everything, and yet, in a very real way, nothing at all. The key to effective surveillance was to train oneself to be aware of the gestalt, but not to lose oneself in the details. She had seen everyone in the room at least once, noting the particulars of their mannerism and dress—not because she was interested in them, but because she needed to discount them. As each individual was evaluated and deemed nonthreatening, they became as indistinct to her as cardboard cutouts, featureless shapes moving across her field of vision but making no particular impression. That night, as always, one woman stood out in sharp relief against the background of gray.

Blair had put her hair up for the formal affair, somehow taming her wild curls into an elegant twist held in place with a delicate comb that glinted with a hint of diamonds. Her strapless black evening gown dipped low between her breasts and revealed a tantalizing whisper of thigh as she moved. A diamond choker rested in the hollow at the base of her throat. Despite Cam's peripheral awareness of the other people in the room, Blair was the focus of her attention. Anyone who moved near her, spoke to her, or even appeared to be watching her for an unusual length of time garnered Cam's intent inspection. At the moment, she was watching her lover dance in the arms of a handsome, dark-haired man she recognized as France's minister of defense. His palm rested in the middle of Blair's back, against her skin, which was exposed by the gown's low-cut back. Nothing showed on Cam's face as she watched his hand move in an indolent caress.

Across the room, Mac systematically swept the huge space, pausing briefly at each exit to take note of who stood there— someone lingering near a doorway could easily be a lookout or a triggerman. He saw only the gently milling mass of suave men and beautifully adorned women. He also saw his colleagues—the six who were in the room. There were four additional agents on perimeter duty outside. His gaze halted on his chief as he followed her line of sight to Egret. From fifty feet away, he could see her dark eyes smoldering. Someone who didn't know her wouldn't notice her tension or her fury, but he had grown used to deciphering her state of mind by reading her body language and the message in her eyes. He had learned that she never voluntarily gave any indication of her feelings. Not for the first time, he was glad not to be in her shoes. He didn't shrink from the responsibility, and, in fact, was proud that he was usually the commander's first choice for team leader when she was off duty or otherwise unavailable. He did not, however, envy her, knowing that she was often forced to behave as if she had no personal relationship whatsoever with Egret. While never doubting that she could carry out her responsibilities in terms of Egret's security, he couldn't even guess at how much that restraint cost her emotionally.

"You're monopolizing Ms. Powell, Claude," a rich contralto voice complained playfully. A dark-haired, dark-eyed woman wearing a deep burgundy dress took Blair's arm and with a sly smile drew her away from the obviously displeased man. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm eternally grateful for the rescue," Blair murmured as she smiled and nodded to several individuals who greeted her as she walked slowly to the edge of the dance floor with her companion. "I was running out of polite conversation."

The woman, twenty years Blair's senior but still sensuously beautiful, tilted her head and laughed. "I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. In the past, you would have sent him running with his tail between his legs in a matter of minutes."

"I was practicing diplomacy."

"You never saw the need for that before, as I recall." She drew Blair closer, brushing her breast against Blair's arm as she did so. When she felt no response from Blair, she laughed again. "You've changed."

Blair looked over to where she had last seen Cam and smiled softly as her eyes met her lover's, "Yes. I have."

"Ah..." Her companion followed Blair's gaze. In a voice verging on a purr, she said, "There's something about a long, tight body in a tuxedo that always makes me wet."

"Then I see you haven't changed, at least."

"She's the one all the fuss is about, I take it."

They stopped by a large marble pillar out of the stream of activity. Blair had a headache from making polite conversation with too many people for too many hours. All she wanted to do was shed her clothes, put her feet up, and enjoy a few quiet minutes with Cam. She sighed, seeing no point in denying what everyone was aware of.

"Yes."

The press had been waiting once again when she'd arrived at the presidential palace. They'd shouted variations on the same questions that they had bombarded her with the day before, and she once again made no comment. Although none of the guests mentioned the news articles, she had been aware of a few pointed stares during the evening.

"Is she anywhere near as good as she looks?" the woman asked.

Unoffended, Blair nevertheless ignored the question. "I'm going to make my way over to the president and his wife and pay my respects. I have an early-morning flight back to the States tomorrow, and I'm tired."

The dark-haired woman slid her arm around Blair's waist and leaned against her, her thigh pressing into Blair's hip. "We could slip away to my apartment for an hour or two. Remember how much fun that used to be?"

Blair couldn't. All she could remember was the empty pleasure of stealing a few hours of freedom that never truly felt free, and the moments of physical satisfaction that were even less gratifying. "I don't think so. Thanks."

"You can't mean to tell me that you're serious about this woman? An affair is one thing, but—really, Blair. Even if you don't care about the politics, it's social suicide."

"You know that's never mattered to me," Blair said quietly.

"I know that you always pretended that it didn't," her companion countered. "That's one of the many things I found so exciting about you. But you're young yet, and something like this could haunt you forever."

"You're absolutely right." A smile flickered across Blair's face. "Which is why I have absolutely no intention of letting her go."

The beautiful woman leaned close and kissed Blair lightly on the lips. "I'll miss those special moments with you, darling."

"Take care," Blair whispered before she slipped away.

Blair had crossed only a small part of the room when Cam appeared at her side. She slowed and smiled at her lover. "Hello."

"Ms. Powell," Cam replied quietly. She was close enough to touch her, but she did not.

"I'm ready to go home."

With a casual gesture that might have been interpreted as merely a brush of her hand through her hair, Cam murmured into the minuscule communicator on the undersurface of her left wrist, "Stark, bring the vehicle to the west entrance."

"I want to really go home," Blair said with a sigh.

"Yes," Cam admitted, allowing a rare break in her professional facade. "So do I."

"Come with me while I make my goodbyes."

"Of course. I'll be nearby."

"No," Blair murmured softly, curling her fingers around Cam's forearm and drawing her a step closer. "Accompany me."

Surprised, Cam stiffened. "Blair, I don—"

"Please."

The word was uttered softly, one lover to another, and Cam could not refuse. "It would be my pleasure."

As they approached the French president and his wife at the center of a small gathering of dignitaries, Cam scanned the crowd and took note of Mac on the left side of the room and Rogers on the right keeping pace with them. Assured that the appropriate surveillance was in place while her attention was diverted, she relaxed enough to appreciate how at ease Blair appeared in the midst of such exalted company. At the moment, Blair was thanking the French president and his wife for their gracious hospitality and commenting on how much she had enjoyed the evening. A few more polite words were exchanged, and then Blair smiled up at Cam. "May I introduce my escort, Cameron Roberts."

In French, Cam replied that it was an honor to meet them and a pleasure to be in Paris again. When the president's wife suggested that they return when Blair was not obligated by official duties, "to truly appreciate the beauty of Paris," Cam smiled warmly and said that she definitely hoped they would have that opportunity soon.

After the usual pleasantries, Blair and Cam turned to leave.

"I think she was flirting with you," Blair said under her breath.

Cam barely managed to stifle a laugh. "She most certainly was not."

"You're so damn charming, you're dangerous."

"As long as you think so, Ms. Powell."

Before Blair could reply, Cam eased away several steps. The few minutes between leaving the building and securing Blair in the vehicle were critical, and she needed to focus. Stark appeared with Blair's wrap and handed it to her.

"Here you are, Ms. Powell. The car is waiting at the curb."

"Thank you." Blair sensed several other people move close to her and knew that Mac and Rogers had just completed the circle behind her. With Cam slightly ahead and to her left, going through the door first as she always did, Blair stepped outside. Instantly, a bright light flashed in her eyes. As she blinked furiously to clear her vision, she was aware of a dark shape looming to her right. She cried out, more in surprise then fear, as Stark grasped her around the waist and pushed her back several steps while shielding her from the intruder with her body. At the same time, Blair saw Cam hurtling toward the shape, which she now recognized as a heavyset man in a dark cap and shapeless jacket. He held something in his hand.

The interloper came out of the shadows so quickly that he was within three feet of Blair before Cam saw him. When she did, all she registered was the speed of his approach and the fact that he held something in the hand that was extended toward Blair. Gun. Her reaction was automatic. She pivoted into him, bent her knees to lower her center of gravity, and shoved her shoulder into his chest. She clamped his leading arm—the one holding the weapon— between her fists, pulled him off balance, and threw him over her body onto his back. He landed with a grunt as the air was driven from his lungs by the force of his unchecked fall. Immediately, Cam planted her knee in the center of his chest and levered his arm into an elbow lock. With the slightest bit of pressure, she could break his arm. Without even looking up, she ordered sharply, "Get her back to the hotel."

Less than twenty seconds later, Blair was in the back of the Peugeot with Stark beside her and Mac at the wheel. With a screech of tires, they merged into traffic.

"Are you all right?" Stark asked quietly. Although she was breathing rapidly, her voice was completely calm.

"Yes." Blair looked back through the rear window, but she could see nothing. "What was that about, do you think?"

"Probably paparazzi or an autograph hound." Stark eased her weapon, which she had held by her side out of Blair's line of vision, back into her hip holster. Or something worse, considering the commander's reaction.

Blair sighed. "How long do you think Cam will be?"

Stark shifted uncomfortably. "I couldn't say."

"No," Blair murmured, closing her eyes as she wondered when she would see Cam again. "There's no way to know, is there?"

Renee rolled over and picked up the receiver on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Did I wake you?"

Smiling, she stretched out beneath the covers, enjoying the brush of cotton across her naked skin. "Well, I was having a very nice dream about a particularly sexy Secret Service agent..."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't mind."

"What are you wearing?"

Laughing in delight, Renee replied, "Why don't you come see for yourself?"

"All right."

Renee's stomach tightened with a jolt of anticipation. "Are you off shift now?"

"Uh-huh."

"How soon can you be here?"

Stark hesitated. "Two minutes too long?"

Oh, you are full of surprises, aren't you? When she spoke again, Renee's voice was throaty and warm. "Make it one."

"Roger that."

Renee threw back the sheet and stood as she hung up the receiver, reaching with her free hand for the robe that she had left lying across the foot of the bed. She shrugged into it on the way to the door, holding it closed with one hand, not bothering to tie it. When a knock sounded, she glanced through the peephole and hurriedly opened the door.

"Hi," Stark said as she slipped inside. She'd taken the time to change into a T-shirt and jeans.

Letting the robe fall open, Renee stepped forward and wrapped both arms around Stark's shoulders, pressing close, "Hi," she murmured as she brought her mouth to Stark's.

"Uh..." Stark's heart jumped into hyperdrive when she saw the quicksilver flash of moonlight on skin and then came to a complete standstill when she felt Renee's body mold to hers. She put her back to the door for support as she drew both hands up the back of Renee's thighs beneath the silk to cup her buttocks. When she automatically lifted her hips, Renee thrust back, and they both groaned. She closed her eyes, surrendering to all that was Renee. The ambrosial scent of desire filled her mind as a warm tongue filled her mouth and the flames within her danced high.

"Renee," Stark murmured when she felt fingers working at her fly. "If you touch me, I'll fall down."

"Mmm, I want to make you melt."

"Done," Stark gasped as fingertips brushed down her belly. Her legs shook and threatened to fold. "It's our last night in Paris. I want to spend it making love with you."

With effort, Renee stopped her downward quest and hooked her fingers around the waistband of Stark's jeans. "How long do I have you?"

As long as you want. Forever. Stark circled her hand at the base of Renee's spine, holding her close. "0500."

A little more than three hours. And then we'll be on separate planes, going home to...what?

"Then let's get started," Renee murmured as she tugged her lover toward the bed.

"Commander?"

Cam turned at the sound of Mac's voice, leaning her hip against the waist-high railing of the balcony. "All quiet?"

Nodding, he joined her. "I didn't see you come back."

"Just got here."

He waited, knowing that she would tell him what she felt he needed to know. He wanted to ask about the shadows in her eyes that even the cover of darkness could not hide. But he didn't, because it would be an intrusion and because their relationship stopped somewhere short of friendship. The bond between them was professional, it was respectful, and it was one he would give his life for, but they had never invited each other into their hearts.

"What's the number one priority in your life, Mac?"

His surprise did not prevent him from answering immediately. "Egret's welfare."

Cam nodded. "Good. Because I don't want you worrying about your career if you find you have to tell me or someone else that you think I'm fucking up."

"You have my word on it."

"Thank you."

Simultaneously, they both turned and placed their hands on top of the iron balustrade that enclosed the balcony and looked toward the Arc de Triomphe a few blocks away. The fabric of their nearly identical tuxedo jackets brushed where their shoulders touched.

"I haven't noted any problems, Commander." He did not look at her when he spoke, but idly watched the stream of headlights flicker along the Champs Elysees.

"I took her to an unsecured location last night with the bare minimum of a team, and I didn't even have the foresight to check the perimeter myself. If someone had wanted her, I'm not sure we could have protected her."

What she had admitted to him would have been grounds for her dismissal if she'd confessed it to anyone else. That she trusted him with her concerns pleased him almost more than anything else in his career ever had. "Other than yesterday right after the press release in the States, we've only been on mid-level alert status. There hasn't been any suggestion of increased hostile activity in this area or undue attention directed toward Egret. There's been no reason to suspect she's at risk."

"It was sloppy," Cam muttered angrily. "I was so busy thinking of her..."

"Exactly," Mac said softly.

Cam rubbed her face briskly. "Just the same-—"

"Commander, since you and Egret have been...together," he pointed out, choosing his words carefully, "she's been much more accepting of our security measures. She's much safer now than she ever has been."

"That's no excuse forme doing my job less well."

"Agreed. And if I thought that were the case, I would say so. To you."

"I'm counting on it." With a sigh, Cam turned back toward the comm center. "I'm going to review the itinerary for the return flight and the personnel placement—"

"Why don't you go to bed? It will keep until the morning briefing." After a second, he added, "I think Ms. Powell was concerned about the altercation earlier."

Cam blew out a breath. "Rogers and I worked him over pretty well. His ID checked out with the limited sources we could access—seems he's a legit freelance reporter. He said he was just trying to get a quote from her about her lifestyle. Wanted to scoop the other papers."

"You believe him?"

"I'd be happier if we had been able to run him through Interpol and the NSI database, but there was no way to do that tonight. And no reason to hold him." She stepped into the com center, which had already been partially dismantled in preparation for their departure.

"But the French have agreed to keep an eye on him and inform us if anything unusual turns up."

They both knew that interagency intelligence communication, especially international communication, was so poor that even if the French did discover something of concern in the reporter's background, the information might never filter down to those in the field. But it was the best that could be done.

"I'll see you at 0630," Cam said on her way to the door. "Roger that." When Cam disappeared, Mac looked around the nearly deserted comm center. In the adjacent room, Cynthia Parker manned the computers for the remainder of the night shift. The glow of the monitors signaled her presence, but despite that, he felt completely alone. He sat down at the long empty conference table with a stack of computer printouts and began to skim through the random communiques that came in twenty-four hours a day.

He imagined that Felicia was already asleep and hoped that the comfort of routine would carry him through to the morning.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

C am closed the comm center door quietly, nodded perfunctorily to Reynolds, who stood in the hall outside Blair's room, and walked toward the stairwell. It had been a long night, she was beat, and she was lonely. She'd hoped earlier for a few minutes alone with Blair after the formal affair, but the intruder had put an end to that wish. Now it was fast approaching dawn and a full day of travel awaited—another potentially hazardous time for Blair when Cam and the whole team needed to be sharp. "Commander?"

Turning, Cam answered, "Yes?" Reynolds held out an envelope. "For you, ma'am." Silently, Cam stepped forward and extended her hand. Angling with her back to Reynolds, she opened the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of cream-colored stationery bearing the watermark of the Hotel Marigny. In her lover's bold script she read, Please come to me—no matter how late. B —

Carefully, Cam replaced the notepaper in the envelope and slipped it into her jacket pocket. Then she walked directly past Reynolds, who gave no sign that he even saw her, used the master passkey to open the door, and stepped inside. The sitting room was dark, as was the bedroom beyond the open door opposite. Moving slowly in the moonlight, Cam removed her tuxedo jacket and dropped it onto the arm of the sofa as she passed. She loosened the tie from around her neck, folded it, and slid it into her pants pocket. By the time she reached the bedroom door, she had removed her cufflinks and studs from her shirt and placed them into the opposite front pocket. Once inside the bedroom, she bent down, untied her shoes, and pushed them off along with her socks. She pulled her open shirt free from the cummerbund at her waist and let it fall over the holster on her hip. Standing beside the bed, she looked down on Blair, who slept nude beneath a pure white sheet.

She'd taken the comb from her hair, and waves of gold framed her face in the silver light. A pain struck deep in Cam's heart, the kind of ache she always felt when she looked at beauty. Faced with both beauty and love, she was rendered helpless with awe. She freed her weapon from her waistband and rested it on top of the antique nightstand, then removed her shirt, unzipped her pants, and stepped out of the remainder of her clothing. Gently, she drew aside the sheet and eased down onto the edge of the bed. Before she could stretch out, Blair curled around her from behind with both arms encircling her waist and pressed her cheek to the center of Cam's back.

"You came. I hoped you would," Blair murmured, her mouth against Cam's skin, her palm flat against Cam's abdomen.

"I tried not to wake you," Cam whispered, covering Blair's hand with her own. Their fingers linked automatically.

"Mmm, no. I'm glad you did. I was worried."

"Everything is fine."

As they talked, Blair stroked her fingers up and down Cam's abdomen. The touch, casual and possessive, was both comforting and arousing. Blair's hand still in hers, Cam gave a weary sigh and leaned back onto the pillows. Blair shifted with her until she was lying against Cam's side, her head on her lover's shoulder.

As she continued her soft caresses, Blair asked quietly, "Who was he?"

Cam stroked the thick blond hair, soothed as she always was by its fragrant softness drifting through her fingers. "Just a reporter, it looks like."

"That light was a camera flash, then, when I first walked out?"

"Yes—and he was equipped with a minirecorder, too. That's what he had in his hand—the microphone." That I took for a gun. Cam considered how close she'd come to dislocating his elbow, more out of fury than necessity. He'd been the last person in a too-long line of people who had overstepped their bounds that evening where her lover was concerned—the throng of media who had descended upon them the instant they had stepped from their vehicle; the men who found Blair desirable and who took the opportunity to hold her and caress her as if it were their right; the ex-lover—because she couldn't have been anything else considering the way she had looked at Blair and touched her with a knowledge born of intimacy—who had clearly been interested in another interlude. By the time this intruder had lunged from the darkness to accost her lover, Cam had been ready to fight. It had taken all her control merely to immobilize him without assuaging her anger by breaking his arm.

Blair pressed her lips to the tight muscles just below Cam's collarbone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—-just wound up."

"I know. I can feel it." Blair raised up on an elbow and studied her lover. Cam's eyes were dark pools, and in the dim moonlight, she could not read what lay in their depths. Without being able to see Cam's eyes, she was at a disadvantage, because that was the one place Cam's secrets were exposed. She placed her palm in the center of Cam's chest, felt her heart beat steady and sure, and eased her leg over Cam's thigh. "Want to tell me why?"

Cam hesitated, reluctant to burden her lover with concerns over a situation she could not change. Then she recalled what Blair had said to her only weeks before.

I love you. It s not just about sex and it's not just about common ground It's about needing to be with you. It s about needing to be in your life.

Resting a hand on the back of Blair's neck and drawing her back down, Cam replied quietly, "I was thinking about how much I don't like other people touching you, or even trying to."

"Other people." Blair was silent for a long moment. "Other people like Margot Fallon?"

"She would be one," Cam noted nonchalantly as she thought of the striking wife of the French ambassador.

"I should have realized that you would know exactly what she was doing." Blair sighed, aware as well that her previous liaisons with Margot must have been documented somewhere and that Cam would have read all about them. "You do know that I wasn't tempted, don't you?"

"Temptation is not a sin."

"No," Blair mused, "I suppose we can't be expected to control how our bodies respond."

"I'm going to kill her."

Cam's tone was absolutely serious, but Blair merely laughed and fit herself more closely to Cam. "As it happens, I was tempted in neither body nor spirit. But I'm sorry if it bothered you."

"It's not your fault, and there's no need for you to apologize." Cam turned her head and kissed Blair's forehead, shifting on her side until their bodies touched along their lengths. "I can see why it's so hard for you to constantly be the center of attention. So many people take liberties."

Blair caught her breath as her heart filled with a combination of wonder and surprise. "Every time you say something like that, I fall in love with you all over again."

Before she could change her mind, Cam pushed on. "I talked to Mac tonight about whether my being in love with you was compromising my ability to run the detail."

"Oh, Cam. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that anything about tonight made you feel that way." Blair laughed softly and kissed the side of Cam's throat. "A few months ago—hell, a few weeks ago, I would have been delighted to think that you weren't happy with your performance. Then, maybe I could've taken advantage of your momentary, and extraordinarily rare, insecurity to get you to resign."

"And now?" Cam asked curiously.

"As much as I still hate the thought of you placing yourself in jeopardy to protect me, I love having you around." Blair took a deep breath and finished before she could change her mind. "More than that, I love having you as my security chief. I trust you."

"That means everything to me," Cam murmured, tracing her fingertips along the undersurface of Blair's jaw before tilting her head up for a kiss. She lingered on the softness of Blair's lips, gliding her fingers over the elegant bones of Blair's face as she explored the warmth of her mouth with her tongue. When she drew back, she added huskily, "If I ever thought I couldn't take care of you, I'd quit."

"I can't imagine that will ever happen," Blair whispered, "but as long as you let me take care of you, too, I won't ever ask you to stop doing what you need to do."

Cam rested her forehead against Blair's, a feeling of ultimate peace and rightness stealing over her, "I need you so much."

For the second time that evening, Blair was speechless. She pressed even nearer, her breasts against Cam's, a leg insinuated between Cam's thighs. The surge of pleasure that streaked through her had as much to do with happiness as arousal. If it had been physically possible, she would have climbed inside of Cam's body and curled up—-she wanted to be that close to her. As it was, she had only her inadequate words and her body with which to convey the depths of her love. She smoothed her palm down the center of Cam's back to her hips, then pulled Cam more firmly into her. Her voice held a desperate plea. "I love you so much and I don't know how to tell you, to show you. I want to make love to you, but I know it won't be enough. God...nothing will ever be enough."

"Hold me tightly," Cam whispered hoarsely against Blair's ear, needing nothing more than the beat of Blair's heart against her skin. "Just hold me like this until morning, and I promise, it will be enough."

The faint tremor in Cam's voice brought a surge of protectiveness, and Blair tightened her grip. "Oh yes, darling. Oh yes."

"It's almost dawn," Renee whispered, leaning on her elbows with her hands gently framing Stark's face. "You should get some sleep."

"I can sleep on the plane." Stark drew both hands down Renee's back to her hips and lifted her own pelvis, the contact striking fire to her blood. "I can't seem to get enough of you. I don't want to sleep when I can be touching you."

"This doesn't have to end tonight." Renee kissed her softly. Does it? Tell me that it doesn't. Tell me that this isn 't just about being in Paris.

"I know," Stark sighed. "But once we're home, you'll go back to work, and I'll be traveling with Egret. I won't be able to see you as much."

Renee laughed softly as relief lifted her heart. She threaded her fingers into Stark's hair and edged her leg higher between Stark's strong thighs, reveling in the surprised groan from the woman beneath her. Although she'd thought herself satisfied— beyond satisfied—by the soaring orgasm she'd experienced only moments before, she felt herself pulse and grow hard again. "We'll find time. We'll make time." She leaned down and took Stark's mouth with a hunger that surprised them both. She rocked on Stark's thigh, teasing them both as she slicked Stark's skin with the hot essence of her desire. Gasping, she forced the words out. "This is our life."

"Sit up," Stark urged desperately, her breath barely moving as she watched Renee's face dissolve with pleasure. "I want to see you come. I want to remember how beautiful you look."

Renee gave a small cry and forced herself upward to sit astride Stark's leg, grasping the hands that Stark offered in support. Their fingers clenched and her hair fell forward on either side of her face as her head dropped. Her hips pistoned as her stomach tightened and her vision dimmed. "Oh God," she cried, her head snapping back. "Oh God, Paula."

"That's it," Stark groaned hoarsely Her own body throbbed with an answering swell of passion as she watched Renee near orgasm, but that pleasure was only a pale echo of the sheer glory of watching Renee's surrender. "So beautiful."

Trembling at the peak of her release, Renee implored, "Hold me."

Stark reared up and enfolded Renee in her arms as Renee shuddered and sobbed out her name. Together they fell back to the bed, wrapped tightly in each other's embrace.

Stroking Renee's hair, Stark murmured, "You okay?"

"Oh," Renee laughed unsteadily, "I have no idea." She rubbed her cheek against Stark's breast. "I've never been like this with anyone before."

"Like what?" Stark kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. "Huh? Sweetheart?"

"So crazy, so free." Renee cupped Stark's breast gently. "So safe. You're a remarkable lover."

"Uh," Stark mumbled, trying to ignore the swift tightening of her nipple beneath Renee's hand. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just...you, it's you...I'm just touching you."

Then please don't stop. Renee sighed languorously. "It's working very nicely."

"Good." Stark stilled the motion of Renee's hand. The slow brush of fingers was driving her crazy. "Will you call me as soon as you land tomorrow?"

"Mmrn-hmm. Where are you going to be?"

"We're supposed to be headed back to New York City, but you never know."

"I'll tell you what—I'll call your cell when I land, then you call me when you're free."

"Okay." Stark let out a sigh. "I miss you already."

"I'm not gone yet." Renee replaced the fingers on Stark's nipple with her lips while at the same time smoothing her hand down Stark's stomach and between her legs. She moaned softly as Stark arched beneath her hands. Carefully, she fondled the length of the firm clitoris, timing her strokes to the rhythm of Stark's murmured pleasure. When the first ripple of Stark's climax coursed beneath her fingertips, she carefully entered her.

"Feels so good." Stark jerked and buried her face in Renee's hair, trying hard to hold out against the sudden surge of sensation. She hadn't known she could feel this way, so full and yet so hungry for more. "Do it..harder."

"Next time, sweetie," Renee whispered, drawing her fingers tenderly in and out. "Just come for me now."

"I am," Stark sobbed. "I...Oh...I am."

Through a haze of excitement, Renee contained her desire to push harder and deeper, knowing that this act of love was new to her lover. She stilled her hand when the orgasm played around her fingers, moving only enough to encourage the last final spasms of pleasure. When she felt Stark's taut muscles soften and her body relax, she slowly withdrew. At the sound of a small cry, Renee swiftly gathered her lover close.

"Sweetie, honey? Are you okay?"

Weak with the aftermath of pleasure, Stark rested her forehead between Renee's breasts, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay? I could die happy now."

Renee's heart lurched, though she knew the words carried no portent, and she managed a small laugh while stroking Stark's damp face. "Well, since that was only the beginning, I suggest you stick around for a while longer."

"Oh, I intend to."

At 0610, Felicia looked up from her newspaper as the hotel room door banged open. Stark came flying through with a look of dazed panic on her face.

"Oh man," Stark exclaimed, her eyes faintly wild. "I'm going to be late, and the commander is going to bust me."

Felicia, in a dusky gray, blended-silk suit, sipped coffee at the small table before the open French doors that led to the small balcony. She lowered her cup and regarded Stark with a hint of a smile. "Go take a shower. I packed your gear already."

Stark skidded to a halt, breathing heavily. "You did? Oh God, you did? I owe you. I owe you so big."

"You're right. You do." Felicia went back to her newspaper, suppressing a laugh.

Fifteen minutes later, she and Stark headed for the comm center where, within a matter of thirty seconds, the rest of the team arrived as well. The agents took seats around the conference table and waited silently, most with coffee in one hand and a PDA in the other, for Cam to walk to the head of the table and open the morning briefing.

"There's been a slight change in plans," Cam announced at precisely 0630. "We're flying into Washington Dulles instead of La Guardia. Those of you on temporary assignment for this trip can make arrangements there to return to your home base. The permanent team will remain in DC until further notice. Mac will update shift assignments en route."

No one commented. Last-minute changes in the itinerary weren't at all unusual, especially on a return leg. Disruption of personal plans was a routine part of the job. After Cam reviewed the timetable for transport to De Gaulle Airport, along with the vehicle assignments, she dismissed the team to prepare for departure. After everyone had left, Mac approached her.

"Let me guess. Lucinda Washburn?"

Cam nodded with the barest trace of a grimace. "I don't think she ever sleeps. She called Blair at 0500 and demanded a personal appearance at the White House this evening."

"I take it this was prompted by the press release?"

"Presumably." Cam bit off the words as she tried to control her temper. "It isn't as if Lucinda didn't know this was coming. Blair advised her of the interview when it was scheduled."

"Anything I can do?"

Cam shook her head. "Thanks. Blair will handle it, I'm sure." I just wish she didn 't have to. All she wants to do is get back home so she can paint. She's paid her dues with this trip, and the least Lucinda can do is leave her in peace for a few weeks.

With a conscious effort to focus on the details of the last leg of their journey, Cam sighed. "Let's go home, Mac."

"Roger that, Commander."

18Aug01

Just off Interstate 95, Florida

A beefy redhead in olive green cammies entered the restaurant and looked around the nearly empty seating area. His flat blue eyes settled on the thin, bearded, dark-haired man attired in casual tan chinos and an open-collared white shirt. The faxed photo he had been provided of his contact wasn't very good, but the man in the booth staring back at him fit the description. He walked across the room and settled heavily into the booth opposite the smaller man.

"Is your team ready?" he asked without preamble.

Arrogant Americans. The bearded man's eyes sparked with indignation, but he answered quietly in lightly accented English, "We are."

"What about the others?"

"They await only the final instructions to move into place."

The redhead passed a single sheet of paper across the table. "These are the flight details."

The targets weren't listed, but he knew them. New York City, Washington, DC, Chicago, Los Angeles. And a very special one of which his bearded "friend" was unaware.

After a moment of studying the printout, the first man lifted surprised eyes. "We understood it was to be sooner."

"The personnel for one of the critical flights were changed. If Hydra command wants all six targets, this is the date." The second man's tone was condescending. They were on his turf, even if it was their show. They'd come to his organization with an offer to combine resources for a preemptive strike that would send a message once and for all that in America, the true Americans were coming to power. Ultimately, their groups might have different agendas, but a blow to their common enemy would strengthen them all. Allies today, enemies tomorrow. That was the way of war.

"When my leader gives the word, we will not hesitate." The bearded man carefully folded the sheet of paper listing the departure times and flight numbers of the airplanes that would carry him and his brothers to glory.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T he Suburban slowed as it passed the security gate and proceeded to the first family's private entrance. Blair leaned across the seat and touched Cam's arm. "Will you be at your apartment?"

"Tonight?" Cam inquired. She'd dismissed the auxiliary agents who had accompanied them to Paris at Dulles, and her core team had the night off. The White House security patrol would be responsible for Blair's security while she was at the White House, as they were for the president when he was in residence. It wasn't an arrangement Cam was particularly fond of—she considered the White House security patrol to be essentially gatekeepers, not security agents. But politically, she had nothing to say about it. "I'll be there tonight. Will you be staying here?"

Blair nodded. "I don't know how long this meeting with Lucinda will take, but I'm hoping to catch my father later. I haven't seen him since before we left for Paris."

The vehicle had stopped, but since she and Cam had made no move to get out, Phil Rogers remained behind the wheel on the other side of the privacy panel. Nevertheless, Blair lowered her voice. "I'll miss you. I've gotten used to having you in my bed at night."

"I know." They had a certain amount of freedom when traveling, and even home in New York, because Blair's security team existed for one purpose—to protect her. The agents were trained to look the other way where the private lives of their protectees were concerned. Even when that included sleeping with one of them. Still, she and Blair valued their privacy and tried to shield their personal relationship from too much scrutiny, which meant there were times when they could not reasonably find a way to be together. This was one of those times.

Cam sighed. "It's getting so I can't sleep well without you."

Blair smiled. Although Cam's discomfort was the last thing she wished for, she was enormously pleased to know that she was not alone in hating their forced separations. "I'll call you as soon as I can after the meeting with Lucinda."

Cam raised an eyebrow slightly as she shook her head. "I'm coming with you for that."

"What?" Blair sat up straighter.

"If Lucinda Washburn wants to talk to you about your relationship with me, then I want to be there."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Blair said immediately. "The last thing we want to do is keep underscoring the fact that you're both my security chief and my lover. I don't want to put you in the spotlight."

"You can't put me in the closet, Blair," Cam said succinctly. "Lucinda knows who you're sleeping with. My superiors know I'm sleeping with you. The president of the United States knows that we're lovers. There's no closet big enough to fit all that."

"I'm not trying to put you in the closet, Cameron." Blair was jet-lagged and bone-weary from the constant stress of deciding how much to reveal about her personal life, and to whom. Her words had come out more sharply than she had intended.

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"Protect you." Blair reached for the door handle. "That is something you understand, isn't it? I'm certainly supposed to understand it when you've decided to stand between me and danger. I'm even supposed to be happy about it!"

Before Blair could step from the vehicle, taking with her their last chance for privacy, Cam reached out and caught her arm. "Blair, wait."

Because she already missed her, and because she knew her heart would ache for the rest of the night if they parted this way, Blair stopped. With a sigh, she settled back into the seat. "God, sometimes you make me so crazy."

"Then we're even." Cam rubbed the bridge of her nose and then ran her hand through her hair. In a calmer voice, she said, "If Lucinda Washburn or anyone else is going to dress you down for your relationship with me, I want to be there. We need to deal with that together. If we're a couple."

If we 're a couple. A couple. Blair regarded Cam intently, searching her eyes for the answer to the question she was afraid to ask. This time it wasn't enough to see the determination and the caring in Cam's eyes. This was something so essential to her soul that she needed to hear the words. "Is that really what we are? What you want?"

Nothing ever defused Cam's temper faster than the slightest hint of insecurity in Blair's voice. The moment they'd met, she'd fallen in love with Blair's strength and her indomitable will. To know that anything, but most especially something about their relationship, could shake that certainty was like a fist in the gut. She extended her hand and took Blair's. "I love you. You're my life."

For an instant, Blair closed her eyes. When she opened them, even the dim light inside the vehicle could not hide the shimmer of tears. "I can't say no when you say something like that. No one has ever been able to reach inside me the way you do."

Cam lifted Blair's hand to her lips and kissed it gently before rubbing the backs of Blair's fingers against her cheek. "That's because I'm the only one who belongs there."

"It's true, and it still scares me to death." Blair spoke softly, almost to herself. Then she straightened and fixed Cam with a steady gaze. "You'll have to be careful with Lucinda. She's used to chewing out the Joint Chiefs and assorted cabinet members before breakfast."

"I shouldn't think she'd be any worse than the president's daughter before coffee."

Blair laughed out loud. "You do like to live dangerously, don't you, Commander?"

"Let's say I enjoy living life with you." Cam merely grinned as she pushed open the door and stepped out before extending her hand to Blair. "Shall we?"

With you, anything. Blair slid from the Suburban and linked her fingers with Cam's as she gazed up at the White House. Another fragment of her life slipped into place as she walked up the stairs to the entrance with her lover.

"Just one minute while she finishes this call," Lucinda's harried assistant said to Blair as he fielded three other calls at once. "She wants to be interrupted for you."

Three minutes later, he waved Blair and Cam into the chief of staff's office. Lucinda was behind her desk, her reading glasses hanging on a colorful braided cord around her neck. She looked up at the sound of their entrance and then regarded Cam with an intense stare before turning her attention to Blair. "You might prefer that this meeting be private."

"No, I don't prefer that." Blair reached out and took Cam's hand once again. "You know my lover, Cameron Roberts. Cam, Lucinda Washburn."

Cam quickly squeezed Blair's fingers before stepping forward to extend her hand across the desk. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Lucinda, a formidable woman in her mid-fifties wearing an impeccably tailored suit and just the right amount of expensive but understated jewelry, stood and returned Cam's handshake. Then she walked around the side of the desk, gesturing to the small seating area. She took the chair opposite the sofa, allowing Blair and Cam to sit together. Then she once again focused on Cam.

"Are you interested in marrying the president's daughter, Agent Roberts?"

"Lucinda, what the hell?" Blair sat forward indignantly, her eyes blazing.

The chief of staff gave a nonchalant shrug. "Just one of many questions I have."

"Our private life is none of your business." Blair had known Lucinda Washburn since she was a child, and she'd often been intimidated by Lucinda's power and status, not only within her father's political machine but also within the small social circle of family friends. She rarely had occasion to argue or take issue with Lucinda, even though she sometimes resented the woman's central position in her father's life. A position that she never seemed to occupy.

"First of all," Lucinda said mildly, "you don't have a private life. Not for at least the next three—God willing, the next seven — years. Secondly, even if you did, it is my business. Everything that impacts on your father's position is my business."

"I fail to see—"

Cam's deep voice interjected quietly, "A year ago I never could have imagined loving anyone the way I do Blair. I haven't thought about marriage, but I believe in it as an institution. And I love the president's daughter, so the answer to your question is yes."

While Lucinda studied Cam speculatively, Blair regarded her with stunned astonishment. Finally she spoke, her voice thick with emotion. "Cameron, are you proposing?"

"Not at the moment." Cam's expressive mouth quirked into a grin as she met Blair's eyes. "When the time comes, I'd like to do that in slightly more intimate surroundings."

"When the time comes," Blair repeated, still trying to absorb the concept of that kind of commitment. After the first wave of surprise, she felt a flush of pleasure, and she leaned her shoulder gently against Cam's.

"Interesting answer, Agent," Lucinda allowed. "It's just one of many questions that our press secretary has had to field so far." She looked down at the sheaf of papers she had carried with her from the desk. In a matter-of-fact tone, she read, "Will President Powell support legalizing gay marriage? Does Blair Powell plan on having children? How does the president's daughter plan to become pregnant? How many of her security staff has she slept with?" At that, Lucinda shook her head in disgust. "Some of these fools have no sense of propriety at all." She looked up from the papers, her expression guarded. "There are a dozen more like this, and worse. You need to review them and formulate answers."

"Why?" Blair snapped. "I'm not obligated to respond to this kind of interrogation."

"No, you're not," Lucinda agreed in a surprisingly calm voice. "But these questions are going to keep being asked, and it's better that we all know what the answers are going to be. Then I can handle—"

"You mean spin, don't you?" Blair's tone dripped sarcasm.

Lucinda shrugged. "In politics, image is still one of our most important assets. You may call it anything you desire. I can't afford to be taken by surprise, so I need to know if you're going to answer one of these questions someday in a manner that puts us all on the defensive."

"Our private life is our own business."

Cam gently placed her right hand over Blair's left. "Surely you can't expect Blair to answer such intrusive and inappropriate questions." Her tone suggested fact rather than query. "Blair has already made it clear that we are romantically involved. If that requires further explanation, then feel free to say that we are in love, monogamous, and planning a long-term relationship."

"You're remarkably astute for a federal agent, Commander."

Cam held Lucinda's gaze steadily. "As I'm sure you know, I grew up in Italy where my father was this country's ambassador. No one practices politics quite like the Italians."

Lucinda laughed with reluctant pleasure. "Are you sure you want to waste away in obscurity toiling for the Treasury Department? I can put your talents to much better use."

"I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. But thank you."

"Give me the questions," Blair said sharply, reaching for the papers that Lucinda still held. "I'll look them over and if there's something I feel is pertinent and appropriate, I'll give you our response."

"What am I missing?" Lucinda eyed Blair curiously. "You might be in love, but that's hardly cause for a sea change."

Blair stood, drawing Cam up beside her. "I am in love, and it changes everything."

In a rare show of emotion, Lucinda gave Blair a quick hug. "I'm happy for you," she murmured against Blair's cheek. Then she stepped away and strode back around her desk. She placed both hands flat on the top and leaned forward. Her command voice had returned. "No surprises, Blair. I mean it"

"The only thing I want to do is go back to New York and be left alone. Since I know that's not possible, we'll all just have to do the best we can." Blair sighed. "Is my father busy?"

"He's always busy, but he knows you're here, and he wants to see you." Lucinda glanced down at another printout on her desktop. "He's in the residence now."

"Thanks," Blair said softly.

"Nice meeting you, Ms. Washburn," Cam said as she walked to the door with Blair.

"I'm sure we'll meet again, Agent Roberts." Lucinda regarded the president's daughter and her lover contemplatively as the door closed behind the pair. You 've made an excellent choice, Blair. She can handle herself, and she loves you. How very fortunate.

"Blair," Andrew Powell exclaimed with a smile as he rose from the reading chair in his study. "Welcome back."

"Hello, Dad," Blair said as she kissed her father's cheek.

The president turned to Cam and extended his hand. "Good to see you, Cam."

"Sir."

Andrew Powell pointed to the nearby sofa. "Sit down. Are either of you hungry? Do you want anything to drink?"

"I think we're more tired than anything" Blair responded, sinking gratefully down into the plush cushions. "The trip was hectic."

"But...uneventful?" The president spoke quietly, watching his daughter's face carefully. Even her admission of being tired was unusual.

"Basically, yes," Blair replied. "The early press release about my interview here in the States got us a little more media attention than we had expected, but it was manageable."

Powell shifted his gaze to Cam. "Did you have enough people to handle the situation?"

"Yes, sir. Our team is well prepared for that kind of eventuality, and we had the cooperation of the local security forces."

"If there's anything you need...more personnel, more-—"

"Dad," Blair cut in firmly. "Everything is fine."

"I'm allowed to worry. It's a father's prerogative."

Surprised by his serious expression and the sincerity in his voice, Blair colored with pleasure and embarrassment. "First of all, there's nothing to worry about. Secondly, Cam knows exactly what she's doing."

"Then I'll consider the issue closed," the president conceded graciously. He reached for his nearby cup of coffee and sipped. "I suppose you've seem Lucinda already?"

"First thing," Blair informed him with the barest hint of a grimace.

"I asked her not to pressure you into anything regarding a personal statement about your private business, but..." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture and shook his head. "She never listens to me."

Cam laughed.

"Ah, I can see that the chief of staff is still ignoring the commander in chief's directives." Powell studied Blair with concern. "Has it been bad?"

Once again, his directness and the affection in his voice caught Blair off guard, and she automatically reached for Cam's hand. She drew their joined hands to her thigh as she spoke. "It's infuriating and at times embarrassing. But all in all, not really as bad as I anticipated."

The president glanced at Cam. "Have you had any problems from your director?"

"Sir, that wouldn't be something I would expect you to trouble yourself over."

"So I'm not to be concerned about my daughter's partner's welfare?"

Cam met the president's eyes steadily, her hand loosely clasped in Blair's. "I appreciate your concern, sir. I also feel that if I were to take advantage of your influence to protect my career it would call my affections for Blair into question. That is unacceptable to me, sir."

The president smiled but his eyes were intent. "I'm not asking as the president, but as a father."

"Sometimes, sir," Cam replied softly, "our responsibilities make it impossible to act on what's in our hearts."

"Are you always so certain of your responsibilities, Agent Roberts?"

"No, sir. Sometimes my heart wins."

Blair released Cam's hand and slid her arm around Cam's waist. "Dad, is this some kind of a traditional rite known only to men where the father questions the daughter's suitor?"

Powell laughed. "No, I'm just enjoying the opportunity to get to know your partner."

"I don't want Cam to think that every time she comes to the White House, she's going to be interrogated. First Lucinda, now you."

"Have I made you uncomfortable, Cam?" the president asked with genuine concern.

"No, sir." Cam smiled briefly at Blair. "There's nothing about my feelings for Blair that I have any problem discussing."

"Even with the news media?"

Cam's expression hardened. "If I had my way, sir, a reporter wouldn't get within twenty yards of your daughter. If they question me, I'm under no obligation to be polite."

Powell nodded contemplatively, impressed by the woman his daughter had chosen. "How do you two feel about spending Labor Day weekend at Camp David with me?"

Blair glanced at Cam questioningly. "That would be great. Don't you think?"

"Of course," Cam replied. Wherever Blair went, she would be.

"I expect you to be off duty for that weekend, Cam," the president added.

"Sir?"

"You can hardly relax and enjoy the time away if you're working. Turn the detail over to your second in command. We'll have plenty of security at the retreat."

Cam opened her mouth to argue that she didn't command his agents and that Blair's security was her responsibility, then simply nodded. One did not argue with the president of the United States.

"Good," Powell said. "Are you staying in the residence tonight, Blair?"

Blair looked from her father to Cam. "If it's all the same to you, Dad, I'd rather spend the night with Cam, and I don't think we can really do that here. There's no use giving the media more ammunition so soon after the release of the interview."

"You're probably right. I'm sorry about that."

"Thanks," Blair said as she rose and crossed to her father. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "That's all that really matters— that you understand."

The president rose and walked them to the door. "I may not see you again until Labor Day weekend. My schedule is very full."

"Then we'll see you at Camp David."

Once in the hall, Cam said in a low voice, "Do you think I passed inspection?"

"I can't believe he did that." Blair stopped walking, turned, and kissed Cam lightly on the lips. "But you did fine. So well, in fact, that I can't wait to get you alone."

Cam grinned, ignoring the impassive expression of the security guard who stood ten feet away by the side of the elevator. "Good. I was hoping that you'd be impressed."

"Oh, Commander. I was. I most certainly was." Laughing, Blair took Cam's hand and drew her into the elevator. "And as soon as we get to your apartment, I intend to show you just how much."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C am sat in the dark on the wide leather sofa in a loosely belted gray silk robe, a short heavy tumbler of Glenlivet in her left hand. Blair lay sleeping with her head pillowed in Cam's lap, her cheek pressed to Cam's abdomen while the fingers of Cam's right hand curled gently in her hair. Outside the night was dark, the black sky hazy with a faint glow in the distance that Cam knew was a reflection from the security lights surrounding the White House. She'd sat in this position dozens of times before—at the end of a long day when she was too tired to sleep and too lonely to seek company—but she couldn't recall a single instance when she had ever been so satisfied or so content.

"Mmph," Blair muttered as she shifted onto her back and opened her eyes with a long sigh. Blinking, she stared up at Cam. "I fell asleep. I'm sorry,"

"Don't be," Cam murmured, stroking her lover's cheek. Her eyes swept over Blair's sleekly muscled body, clothed now in a loose-fitting T-shirt and boxers that Blair had pulled from Cam's bureau after taking a shower earlier. "It's nice to relax with nothing to do except be together."

Neither mentioned that in the morning Cam would assemble the team and they would fly back to New York. Nor that despite being home, they would still be separated for the better part of every day. Blair nuzzled her face against Cam's stomach, breathing in her distinctive scent. "What were you thinking of while I zoned out?"

Lazily, Cam drew strands of gold through her fingers. "About how good I feel—how right it is to be with you."

"Yeah?" Blair's voice was husky as she reached up to trail her fingers along Cam's forearm. "Even here, like this? With me drooling on you?"

"Especially here like this." Cam set her glass down on the end table. She leaned over and kissed Blair softly. "We can probably dispense with the drool, but I particularly like the boxers."

Blair laughed.

"And," Cam added, "I like holding you while you sleep."

"You know, I made a few promises back at the residence which I've failed to carry through on," Blair noted lightly. "Should I worry that we've been alone together for almost four hours, and we haven't made love?"

"In all the months we've known one another, I've never once looked at you without wanting you," Cam replied pensively. "I want you now. But the nicest thing about the last hour or so, sitting here with you sleeping in my lap, has been knowing that beneath the passion, there was peace—-and that we'll always have both."

"Oh, Cam," Blair breathed. She turned her face hard into Cam's body, bringing her arm around Cam's waist to hold her tightly. "Doesn't this scare you even a little?"

"No, baby," Cam murmured, still softly stroking Blair's hair. "The only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you."

"Not possible." Blair pushed herself up until she was cradled in Cam's arms, her face close to Cam's. "I am completely crazy in love with you. What you said to Lucinda today? About marriage?" She took a shaky breath. "You might find this hard to believe, but I believe in it, too."

Cam kissed her again, one hand caressing the back of her neck beneath her hair, the other smoothing the length of her thigh to trail beneath the edge of the cotton boxers. Exploring Blair's mouth until she'd satisfied her hunger for the taste of her, Cam drew away. "I do believe you, because I can feel it every time you touch me."

"So maybe someday we can talk about it again," Blair whispered as she gently parted the silk over Cam's chest.

"Mmm, someday. Definitely." Cam leaned her head back, her lids heavy with pleasure as Blair stroked her breasts. "You're making it hard for me to think about much of anything right now."

"Am I?" Blair rolled a hard nipple between her fingers, biting her lip and stifling a moan as Cam arched against her. "I'm thinking about all the things I've wanted to do to you since this afternoon."

"This afternoon, huh?" Trying to recover her breath, which had fled with the first teasing touch of Blair's ringers, Cam eased her hand beneath the wide leg opening of the boxers, drawn to the heat between Blair's thighs. "You're not supposed to think about sex in the presence of the president."

"Especially not," Blair nipped at Cam's lower lip as she tugged harder on the erect nipple, drawing a deep groan from Cam, "when he's your father."

"I don't want to think about that right now," Cam said urgently, her head spinning as her hand glided over hot ready flesh. "God, you're beautiful."

"That feels so good," Blair said, resting her forehead on Cam's and unconsciously squeezing Cam's breast harder.

"Yes," Cam grunted as another jolt of excitement streaked downward through her stomach. She circled Blair's clitoris firmly, feeling her grow harder.

"Don't make me come," Blair whispered as she eased her hips away from the talented fingers that fondled her knowingly, her control too brittle to tolerate the exquisite pleasure. She ran her tongue over the underside of Cam's lip. "I want to want it until I beg."

"I want you now," Cam groaned, shifting her hips restlessly beneath Blair.

"Then I'll have to distract you." Blair edged down off the sofa to kneel between Cam's thighs. She opened the covering of silk to reveal Cam's body in the moonlight, catching her breath as if witnessing the glory of her for the first time. She drew her fingers lightly down the center of Cam's abdomen, watching her lover tense and tremble, then leaned forward to place a gentle kiss between her thighs. "I love you."

"Blair," Cam whispered softly, helpless with love and need. In this same place, a lifetime ago, she'd closed her eyes and willed a stranger to assuage her pain. Now there was only joy. With effort, Cam raised her head and focused on Blair's face, lifting an unsteady hand to cup her lover's face. "Let's...go to bed."

"You're already so close. Let me finish."

Blair's breath, hot on her fevered flesh, made Cam shudder. "I want...to come lying beside you...in your arms. Please."

"Yes, darling," Blair murmured, rising with Cam's hand in hers. Cam so rarely asked her for anything, and she would deny her nothing. She wrapped her arm around Cam's waist and held her close. "Come let me love you."

'"Lo?"

"Hey, sleepyhead."

"Hey," Stark replied. "Did you just get in? I was worried."

"Yes, just a few minutes ago." Renee checked her watch. 0150. She sighed with exhaustion. "We sat on the ground at De Gaulle for a couple of hours while they checked over the electrical system. Finally we ended up changing planes. By the time we got to JFK, the incomings were so backed up we almost had to divert to Dulles."

"That might not have been so bad. We 're in DC."

"For how long?" Renee couldn't hide her disappointment. She'd been hoping to see Paula in the morning for just a few minutes before she reported for her new assignment.

"Not sure yet. The whole team is still here, and I guess we'll be briefed in the morning. What about you?"

"There was a letter waiting for me at my sister's." Renee propped her feet on the cluttered coffee table and lifted the single sheet of paper. "I've been temporarily assigned to the New York Bureau office. I'm to report tomorrow for limited duty."

"That's good, then, right? At least we'll be in the same city."

"That part's good," Renee agreed immediately. "The part I don't like is the term limited. I didn't join the Bureau to be a paper pusher."

"It's only been a few weeks since you were shot," Stark pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Peevishly, Renee nudged a can of Coke around on the top of the coffee table with her toe. "One of the biggest branches of the counterintelligence division is located here in New York. If I'm lucky, that's where I'll be assigned."

"So, uh, are you going to stay with your sister?"

Renee was silent, staring around the tiny, crowded apartment. She'd been sleeping on the couch before she left for Paris. Her sister was a good sport, but the space wasn't designed for two. "Probably for a couple of days, then I'm going to need to find something else. Chloe hasn't complained, but I think her boyfriend will be glad to see me go."

"I...well...I'm hardly ever home. You know, with the split shifts and Egret traveling." Stark fidgeted beneath the sheets, her heart pounding as hard as it had the first time she'd realized that Renee was about to kiss her. In a rush, she blurted, "You could stay at my place."

This time the silence was heavy with the sound of unspoken words.

Inwardly, Stark cursed herself for being a clumsy, inappropriate dolt. "I'm sorry. That was dumb."

"No," Renee said softly. "That was nice. And it's tempting.,, and not just because it would solve my problems. I can't think of many things— anything, really-—that I would like more than being in the same space with you as much as possible. And because I feel that way, I need to be careful."

Stark plucked at the covers restlessly. They might have been flirting with a relationship for weeks, but they'd only been sleeping together a matter of days. "I understand. I didn't mean to put you on the spot." She intended to drop the matter, and then the next words popped out. "You wouldn't have to stay, if it didn't work out"

"What if it does? Are you ready for that?"

"We'd kissed once," Stark noted solemnly, "before the Loverboy operation went down in New York. I remember that kiss. It was beautiful. It was over in a second, and you just brushed your lips over mine, but I knew it was more than just a friendly kiss." She drew a breath, remembering that Renee had just finished a workout and had still worn her boxing gloves. Her T-shirt had been damp with sweat and her caramel skin misted with its shine. She'd looked strong and feminine and so sexy. "Less than twenty-four hours later, I was kneeling on the ground with my hands pressed to your chest, afraid that you were dying."

"Paula, sweetie," Renee breathed, heart aching to hear the tremor in Stark's voice. "Honey—"

"No, I'm okay." Stark pushed on, needing to give voice to the well of emotions springing within. "What's between us, it started before that kiss, before we'd even touched. Because when I thought that you might die, I hurt somewhere inside that I hadn't even known was there. I hurt in some place that felt like it would bleed forever."

"Oh my God. Paula." I love you.

"So, yeah, I'm ready." Stark spoke quietly, gently. She'd never said anything like what she had just said before, never even thought the words. But she knew without question that they were right and true. That knowledge gave her strength, and from that strength, came patience. "But maybe it would be smart if we said from the beginning that it would just be a temporary arrangement. Three weeks."

"Three weeks." Renee's voice trembled now. "That seems... reasonable."

"By then, you'll have a better idea what your permanent assignment will be, and we'll have had a chance to check things out."

Renee laughed, sounding almost giddy with happiness and wonder. "I'm all for checking things out with you, sweetie."

"Yeah? So you think that might work...temporarily?"

"I think it just might. Call me when you get back to the city and you're free, and I'll come over. Okay?"

Stark sighed and slid down under the covers. She was tired, but she felt great. The only thing that was missing to make the night perfect was Renee lying beside her. "Roger that."

"You sleepy, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Some. How about you?"

"I'm still wired from the trip," Renee replied, swinging her feet over to the sofa and stretching out.

"I don't have anywhere to go for a few hours," Stark murmured.

"Oh yeah?" Renee reached up and clicked off the light on the end table. With a tiny laugh, she said, "So, sweetie, what are you wearing?"

0200 20Aug01

A cell phone rang in a paramilitary compound deep in the mountains of Tennessee. The duty officer—a twenty-year-old white man with his hair clipped to within a breath of his skull, dressed in battle fatigues, and weighted down with his sidearm, extra ammo in magazine clips hanging from his belt, a bush knife in a leather sheath, and night glasses on a thick leather strap around his neck—answered the call. "Sergeant Wilson."

"This is red team leader. Have the general call me at this number."

Wilson, the weekend duty officer who worked during the week as a gas station attendant at one of the rest areas on the interstate, knew better than to question the order and dutifully repeated the ten digits. He'd never met the person who belonged to the voice on the phone^ but he was familiar with the deep rumbling tone. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

When the caller terminated the connection, Wilson used the landline to ring through to the general's quarters, one of the cabins that once composed the mountain resort that now formed the heart of the compound. The central lodge had been converted into the organization's headquarters, while the officers were housed in the cabins scattered in the surrounding woods. The volunteer personnel bivouacked in tents in areas (hey had clear-cut themselves. The entire five-acre compound was surrounded by a ten-foot barbed wire fence and protected by motion sensors and floodlights. Some of the officers, like the general, spent the better part of every month on base. The rest of the troops were only weekend warriors like himself, but those core members were dedicated and determined to take part in the struggle to reclaim the nation for the people.

"General Matheson, sir. I have a priority call for you."

"Give me the number, soldier."

Five minutes later, the dark-haired American flipped open his cell phone as it vibrated. "Good morning, General."

"Is it? Maybe in whatever cushy hotel you're in," the gravelly voice barked. "It's hotter than hell up here in these mountains, even with the windows open. You end up trading a dozen mosquito bites for a piss-poor bit of breeze."

"My sympathies, General."

"Yes, well, let's not waste these high-security minutes." They'd learned a valuable trick from their Middle Eastern colleagues—by anonymously purchasing disposable memory chips, usually from Switzerland, for their cell phones, they could communicate by satellite links with no danger of their calls being traced. Those with sophisticated equipment could even use the chips to uplink their computers for more extensive data transfer or to insert maps, photo images, and other intelligence data into dummy Web sites. "What the hell happened over there? That mission was planned down to the second—it should have gone off flawlessly."

"I was hoping you could tell me," the other man snapped, his patience frayed by the months of planning that had nearly culminated in disaster. "We were minutes away from completion of the operation when we had to abort. The premature release of the target's newspaper interview increased media attention to the point that our extraction route was unacceptably compromised."

The general grunted in disgust. "We had nothing to do with that. We don't want undue focus on the target at this point in time. Not when the larger operation is about to commence."

"This is not the time for miscommunication," insisted the agent who had spent the last six years of his life infiltrating one of the most secure organizations in the world. "Timing is critical now."

"You think I don't know that? What the hell do you think we've been doing here for the last year?"

Silence hung thickly while each man struggled with his temper.

"Are we abandoning this target?" the agent demanded.

"No. But the mission has changed...from abduction to termination," the general replied stonily. "It will be a coordinated strike to coincide with that of out friends."

The dark-haired man's stomach tightened. He kept his response short to avoid the possibility of revealing his surge of anxiety. "When will I get the details?"

"When you need them."

The American agent standing on a corner in Washington, DC within sight of the White House, making plans to commit treason, nodded as if the man on the other end of the line could see him. "I understand. I'll be waiting."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

22 August 2001

C am leaned against the stone pillar that supported the wrought-iron gate on the east side of Gramercy Park, surveying the entrance to Blair's apartment building. At 11:30 a.m., a stylish blond in a navy blue linen dress, the hemline high enough to accentuate elegantly sculpted calves, exited and walked to the curb. Brushing her shoulder-length hair back with one casual sweep of her hand, the woman glanced down the street, apparently in search of a cab.

"Diane," Cam called as she pushed away from the wall and crossed the street

Diane Bleeker looked around in surprise and smiled curiously as Cam approached. "Why, hello, Cam." Her voice was whiskey warm and her gaze leisurely as it traversed Cam's face and then did a slow appraisal of her body. She curled her fingers into the crook of Cam's arm with casual affection. "I haven't seen you in far too long. How are you?"

"I'm fine." The unusual absence of flirtation in the blond's tone instantly raised Cam's suspicions. Diane, Blair's business agent and best friend, was seductive by nature, and although Cam never took her seriously, she had come to expect a certain amount of suggestiveness in her manner. Its absence confirmed her concerns that something was not right—and seriously so. "Would you walk with me for a few minutes? I'll see that one of my agents takes you home after that."

"Only if you promise that it will be the beautiful Felicia," Diane responded with her winning smile.

Cam shook her head as they began to walk north, grinning despite the uneasiness churning in her depths. "Actually, Felicia isn't on duty. How about John Fielding?"

"Oh, really. He's hardly an appropriate substitute." Diane gave an elaborate sigh, but her eyes were devoid of merriment. "You don't have to take one of your agents away from their duties, Cam. I'll get a cab when we're done. Now, not that I mind you lying in wait to spirit me off, but I suspect it's more than a stroll you have in mind."

"Yes," Cam said quietly. "It's Blair. I'd hoped you could tell me what's wrong." The change in Diane's expression was barely perceptible, but Cam sensed her withdrawal and fought back a surge of temper born of two days of confusion and worry. "We've been back in the city since Monday, and she hasn't left her apartment once. I haven't seen her, even for briefings. She's canceled them all."

"Surely you've talked."

"On the phone" Cam shook her head in frustration. "Several times a day, in fact. But every time I've asked to see her, she's given me an excuse."

"You do know that she's working on the paintings for her show on the eighth, don't you?"

"Yes, I know that, and I know how consuming that can be. My mother is an artist—so are most of her friends. I've spent my life around them. But I've seen Blair work against a deadline before, and she's never shut herself away so completely." Not away from me.

"And she hasn't said...anything?"

"No. When we left DC, everything seemed fine." We made love almost all night. We were happy. She'd asked herself a dozen times what could have caused the abrupt change, and each time she'd come up empty. They hadn't had much time for conversation in the rush to get the team briefed before the short flight home. Blair had been quiet during the journey, but they certainly hadn't fought. Cam ran a hand through her hair, cursing herself under her breath. "I feel like an idiot even talking to you about this. But today she called to see you, so I thought—Christ, I don't know what I thought."

"Love makes fools of us all," Diane murmured in a surprisingly gentle voice. "You must remember that Blair and I have been friends since we were barely more than children. Despite the fact that we often argue and have been known to compete over...all manner of things, we love each other. She feels safe with me."

It was the kindness in Diane's voice's that brought a chill to Cam's heart. She stopped walking and drew Diane under the awning of a hotel, out of the way of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk. She stared into Diane's eyes and thought she glimpsed sympathy there. "There is something wrong, isn't there? What is it?"

"Cam." Tenderly, Diane stroked the tight line of Cam's jaw. "Give her just a little more time. She's not used to being loved the way you love her."

"The waiting is killing me," Cam confessed in a tormented voice.

"I know. And so does she." Diane leaned close and kissed Cam's cheek. "I'm going to get that cab now. You have my number. Call any time."

Cam waited on the sidewalk until Diane disappeared into a cab, then turned to walk back toward Blair's apartment. If she'd thought Blair was being thoughtless or intentionally disregarding her feelings or just simply ignoring her, she would have insisted that Blair see her, explain what the hell was going on. But she'd heard the hesitation in Blair's voice when they had talked, as if Blair was struggling to be close but couldn't find a way. And some sixth sense told her that she had to let Blair be the one to break the silence. She just didn't know how long she could endure it, because she had never been so lonely in her life.

"Commander?"

"What?" Cam barked, not looking up from the reports she'd been reading all afternoon. Mindless, tiresome, boring work. Anything to pass the time.

"Ms. Powell just called. She asked if you were available to see h—"

Cam stood so quickly her chair rocketed backward and hit the wall. "Thank you, Agent Wright."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry Wright stepped hastily aside as Cam charged past.

Two minutes later, Cam knocked on the door to Blair's penthouse loft. Almost immediately, the door opened and she stepped inside. The huge space, partitioned only in one corner for Blair's sleeping area and bathroom, was suffused with the golden glow of evening sunlight. In the sleeveless T-shirt and loose cotton drawstring pants that she favored when painting, Blair stood backlit, her face in shadows. It didn't seem possible, but Cam thought her lover looked thinner than the last time she'd seen her, only two days before. Uncertain if she had been summoned as Blair's lover or as her security chief, Cam did not move to touch her. "Hi."

"Hi," Blair said quietly, an edge of exhaustion in her voice. After a few seconds hesitation, she stepped closer and reached for Cam's hand. "Thanks for coming."

"How's it going?" Cam asked cautiously. Now that Blair was nearer, Cam noticed that there were deep shadows beneath her eyes and that their usual vibrant blue was dull with fatigue. The fingers that loosely clasped her own trembled slightly. With her free hand, Cam gently lifted Blair's chin until their eyes met. "You look beat."

"I've been working pretty much nonstop since we got back." Blair gestured over her shoulder toward her studio at the far end of the loft. "I finished two more canvases."

"Are you happy with them?" Cam felt as if she were walking across a minefield in the dark. There was a barrier between them as tangible as a stone wall, and she didn't know how to breach it. The separation, so real she could almost touch it, produced a nearly unbearable ache in her chest.

"Yes, I am. I think." Blair sighed and unconsciously rubbed at the headache that pounded between her brows. "I am pretty tired, I guess. I'll show you what I've done later, if you like."

"I'd like that very much." Cam drew Blair across the room to the sitting area. It was a testament to the depth of Blair's fatigue that she didn't protest when Cam guided her down to the sofa and then sat beside her. "I was starting to worry. You've been pretty quiet since we got back."

Uncharacteristically, Blair looked away. When she spoke again, she focused on their joined hands, which rested on the soft leather between them. "I called you because I need to go back to DC tomorrow."

Cam grimaced. "What is it this time? Lucinda or some other West Wing command performance?"

"Neither," Blair said in a subdued voice. "I have an appointment at Walter Reed Hospital tomorrow afternoon."

It took a moment for the words to register, and then Cam's blood turned to ice. "Why?"

Blair raised her eyes to Cam's. "I found a lump in my breast."

A million voices screamed inside Cam's head. Jesus, how long have you known? How could you wait to tell me? This isn't happening—not to her, not to us. Oh God, baby, are you scared? Christ, how am I going to fix this. And loudest of all, the desperate entreaty: Please, please don't let anything happen to her.

Throat so dry the words sliced her flesh as she spoke, Cam asked, "When? When did you...find it?"

"Monday morning..." Blair swallowed, struggling to fight back the terror. In some part of her mind, she had always known this was possible. Perhaps even probable. After all, she could recite the statistics from memory. But numbers and probabilities were so very different than the reality. Still, she reminded herself that this thing inside her could be nothing. And even if it was what she feared, she knew, too, of all the progress that had been made in treatment since her mother had been diagnosed. Since her mother had died. But despite what she knew, the experiences forged in childhood and burnished by loss rode roughshod over any rational thought, and all she could see was her mother's face and her father's sorrow. "I noticed it while I was showering."

"Why didn't I feel it?" Cam's words were more self-recrimination than question. Jesus, why didn 't I know?

"It might be nothing," Blair said, forcing optimism into her voice. "It's probably nothing. It's just..it has to be checked."