CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 5 page

Blair laughed and took her hand away, then laughed again at Cam's unintentional whimper. "Let's at least do this on the bed then. I don't have the strength to stand."

They drew apart only enough to strip free the rest of their clothing and then, as if fearful of being separated, hurriedly embraced, their limbs entwining as they rolled together on top of the sheets. Twisting her torso, Cam drew Blair beneath her, one leg between Blair's thighs as she claimed her mouth. When the heat of Blair’s breath in her throat wasn’t enough to assuage her need, Cam reared up on both arms and pushed downward on the bed, settling her chest between Blair's spread thighs. Instantly, her mouth closed over a nipple and she bit lightly, feeling Blair's fingers come into her hair. She found the other breast and cradled it in her hand, working the nipple between her fingers. She didn't stop until Blair was arched bow-tight beneath her, her breath coming in short gasps.

“Please,” Blair whispered, framing Cam’s face with trembling hands. Her eyes were cloudy as she tried to focus on her lover. “I need you so much.”

Only then did Cam ease her way lower still, kissing her way down the center of Blair’s abdomen, moving both palms to the inside of Blair’s thighs. Blair was wet against her skin. Head pounding, so heady with lust she could barely hear, Cam rested her cheek against the soft down at the base of Blair's abdomen and gasped, "Slow enough?"

"Any slower... and I'll... go off without you."

Cam laughed shakily. "Oh, I don't think so."

Slowly, Cam drew her fingers through the thick heat between Blair's thighs, thumbing firmly against her clitoris as she passed, then dipped inside her for a fleeting moment. Withdrawing despite Blair’s cry of protest, she grew still with her fingers spread over the hot, swollen flesh, feeling the blood pound wildly against her palm. "Don’t. I want you to come in my mouth."

"Then kiss me," Blair begged, "and I will."

Very slowly, Cam lowered her head and drew her in, caressing her slowly and carefully with her lips. When Blair’s thighs tensed suddenly, signaling she was close, Cam took her more deeply into her mouth, matching the rhythmic movements of her lips to the tempo of her fingers stroking within. The thrust of her tongue and fingers danced counterpoint to the blood pulsing and muscles spasming around her hand.

Blair's hand was fisted in Cam’s hair, clenching spasmodically as small cries ripped from her throat. When she climaxed, Blair choked out Cam's name in surrender and benediction.

Eyes closed, not breathing, Cam fought back tears at the soaring wonder of being united with the only woman in her life that mattered. She had no idea how long she lay without moving before Blair finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“Are you asleep?"

Cam shook her head slightly, her lips moving faintly on Blair's still pulsing flesh. "No. I don't think so. Maybe...or I could just be dead and this is heaven."

“Feels…like heaven.” Blair laughed unsteadily, flexing her cramped fingers and easing her stiff legs back and forth on the sheets. The titanic contractions at the peak of her orgasm had been nearly painful, and probably would have been if the pleasure hadn't been so acute. "Come up here...if you can. I want to touch you."

"I'm fine," Cam mumbled, her eyes still closed and her heart beating erratically in her chest.

"Come up here anyway."

Eventually, Cam managed to move the three feet before collapsing on the pillows next to Blair.

"Slow is okay, I guess," Blair observed drowsily as she shifted languorously into Cam’s arms, resting her head on her lover’s shoulder and a hand on her abdomen.

"Mmm. Not bad for starters."

Blair pressed her lips to Cam's neck and licked the salty sweat that filmed her skin. A pulse beat hard beneath her lips, and she inched her fingers lower, finding her way between Cam's thighs. Cam groaned as Blair fingered the hard prominence of her clitoris.

"Fine are you?" Blair chuckled faintly. "You are so out of touch sometimes, Commander."

"Well...there's fine..." Cam's pelvis arched as the pressure abruptly escalated beneath Blair's knowing touch. "And...then there's...fine."

"I don't think slow is a possibility here," Blair observed as Cam's stomach muscles contracted hard and her whole body shuddered. "Is it?"

"I'm losing it," Cam confessed desperately, already jerking with the first wave of spasms. “Oh god—"

"It’s all right," Blair murmured, her lips pressed to the curve of her lover’s ear. “I have you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Quietly, Blair opened the door to the elevated rear deck and stepped out into the night.

She had pulled on a loose pair of workout shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and carried a can of soda in her hand. She stopped just outside the door when she realized that she was not alone.

Paula Stark spoke quickly into her cell phone. "Listen...you take it easy, understand? I'll call you soon. Yeah—all right. I remember. ‘Night."

"Sorry," Blair said, crossing the fifteen foot deck to join the agent at the railing.

"No problem. I'm in between checkpoints and I was just..."

"Paula, for God's sake. Do you think I care if you make a telephone call?"

"Well, strictly speaking I'm..."

Blair snorted. "Strictly speaking, you should stand in the dark and do nothing for twelve hours?"

"Well," Stark rejoined seriously, "strictly speaking, it wouldn't be for twelve hours. I'm working the swing shift, so actually I've only been on duty for..."

"I get the picture, Secret Service Agent Stark."

Stark shut her mouth and peered at the President's daughter in the moonlight. She was smiling, and as it never failed to do, Stark's heart gave a slight stutter. This time, however, she recognized it for what it was. She liked the President's daughter. More than liked her.

She respected Blair Powell’s official position, and she valued the work that Blair did in that capacity, representing the nation well whenever she stood in for her deceased mother as the President's closest female envoy in situations where that kind of position mattered. She appreciated her, too, as an individual who was talented in her own right and passionate about important causes, particularly the fight against the cancer that had claimed her mother's life.

And more than all of that, Stark admitted, Blair Powell was a beautiful, sexually compelling woman and she had a history with her. A very brief history, to be sure, but it was a part of her past that, on balance, she was not sorry to have experienced. So when she looked at the woman next to her all of those things affected her, even if they weren't supposed to.

Even if as a Secret Service agent she wasn't supposed to feel anything at all for the person she guarded, other than responsibility. Maybe she wasn't the best Secret Service Agent because of that, but she knew she probably wasn't going to be able to change. Maybe no one would really notice her failings. At least the Commander trusted her as Egret's primary protector, and that was really all that mattered.

Blair watched the moonlight flutter across Stark's features and watched, too, the kaleidoscope of emotions... not all of which she understood but some which she clearly recognized. Fondly, she smiled again. "So, checking in with Mac, were you?"

"Um..."

"Never mind, Stark,” Blair said, taking pity on her. “I know it wasn't Mac, because I know your tone of voice when you talk to him. How is Renee anyhow?"

"She's good, I guess," Starks said glumly.

"You guess? What's wrong?"

"They're letting her out of the hospital in a day or so."

"That's wonderful," Blair exclaimed, leaning both elbows on the railing so that she and Stark both faced the bay far below. "That's a lot sooner than expected, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and that's the problem. She's already talking about when she'll be going back to work."

"Why am I my not surprised?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Blair said with a sigh. "I can't imagine that she'll be able to go back to work right away, even if she wants to. Don't worry too much...she's going to need physical therapy, right?"

"Yeah, she is. Still, I'm sure she'll figure out a way to get a desk job even if she can't get back to field duty right away."

"You know, Stark," Blair said pointedly, "most of you on my team probably shouldn't even be working right now, so you might try to put yourself in Savard's position."

Genuinely perplexed, Stark turned her head to meet Blair's eyes. "What are you talking about? None of us were hurt."

"Jesus. Is it a requirement that all Secret Service agents be blockheads?"

Stark stiffened at Blair’s criticism, ready to defend her colleagues, but before she could get a word out, Blair continued.

"We're not just talking about physical injury, although god knows, Cam should probably still be on sick leave."

"Is the Commander ill?” Stark asked with sudden, genuine concern.

"Nothing she would admit to, but the point is, she was hurt. And all of you lost a colleague and had two others injured. It could have been any one of you. That kind of thing hurts, too."

"It comes with the job, Ms. Powell," Stark said, suddenly somber and suddenly sounding years older.

"Yes," Blair replied, likewise subdued, with noticeable sympathy in her voice this time. "I guess it does."

Very briefly, in an unusual movement for her, Blair squeezed Stark's forearm, then brought her hand back to the railing in front of her. "At any rate, I don't imagine that Savard is going to be any different than the rest of you, but hopefully she'll be sensible enough not to push for anything too physical until she's ready."

"The one good thing is that she's going to be staying with her sister in New York City while she recovers," Stark explained, the enthusiasm back in her voice. "So if she does get an assignment, it will most likely be in the local field office, at least temporarily."

"Ah...so she'll be nearby then."

"Yeah. She will."

Blair couldn't miss the note of excitement in the young agent's voice, and she couldn't help feeling just a twinge of jealousy. Because Renee Savard and Paula Stark were free to explore whatever was happening between them and to do it with all the joy and anticipation of any two people who might be falling in love. It was something she had never had the opportunity to do.

Now she was in love...hopelessly, achingly, desperately in love...and she still found the joy tinged with sadness, and sometimes anger. It was 3:00 in the morning and she had just left her lover's arms because she could not awaken with her, even in one of the safest places in the world.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

At 7:30 the next morning, Cam walked into the kitchen and headed directly for the coffeepot. She helped herself and carried the mug out onto the rear deck, taking advantage of the rare morning sunshine and unusually clear sky. Even in summer, fog was the norm on a San Francisco morning.

At the sound of the door sliding open, the woman standing at the rail turned in her direction.

"Good morning," Cam said. She leaned a shoulder against the open door frame and sipped her coffee, taking a moment to appreciate the sunlight on her lover's face.

"Good morning," Blair said quietly, leaning back with an arm outstretched on either side of her body, her hands curled over the top rail.

“Mind company?”

“Not yours,” Blair rejoined with a smile.

Cam crossed the deck to join her, quickly surveying the densely shrubbed rear property down to the street, which was barely visible as it fell steeply away below them.

"Felicia is down there somewhere," Blair noted as she watched Cam do a perimeter scan. “It’s her shift.”

Cam merely nodded, watching until she saw the faint shadow of her agent move across her view. Satisfied, she turned to the woman beside her. "How are you?”

"Better than I was yesterday morning at this time," Blair answered, a husky tone in her voice. “I’m content—for the moment.”

"And I'm sorry," Cam replied with a laugh. "I fell asleep..."

"Don't apologize. First of all you needed it," Blair admonished. "Second of all, it makes me feel like a stud."

"Huh...I'm wondering just how to take that. Does that mean that I'm not?"

Blair met her eyes, noting with relief that the shadows beneath them were rapidly fading and that the pain which Cam thought she couldn't see was gone as well. "Oh no, Commander. Your stud credentials are well intact."

"That's good to know," Cam said, grinning. She leaned on the rail and worked on her coffee, allowing her mind to drift in the postcard-perfect view. Eventually she asked, "Have you seen my wayward mother this morning?"

"I certainly wouldn't expect to...not this early. Not if I read the situation with Giancarlo correctly."

"I believe you did,” Cam agreed with a fond smile. “If she's not back by this afternoon, I'll call her before we depart for the airport."

"I'll be sorry to leave here," Blair said quietly.

Cam moved her left hand along the rail until it covered Blair's right. Their shoulders were nearly touching, but only someone on the deck with them could have seen the movement. Automatically, their fingers entwined, thumbs brushing over the tops of each other's hand.

"Yes, so will I. I've been here before, but it takes being here with you to realize how beautiful it is. Being with you makes the entire world look different."

For a moment, Blair was speechless. It was one of those times when Cam took her completely by surprise, and it was just the way she had always imagined that being in love would feel. She had just never imagined she would feel it herself. "We don't have to leave that feeling here, do we?"

Cam met her gaze again, marveling at the myriad shades of blue that moved in the depths of her lover's eyes. "No. We don't. Let's make sure we don't."

"Cam, I..."

At that moment, the cell on Cam's belt vibrated. Grimacing, she said, "Sorry," as she pulled it off and flipped it open. Turning slightly away, she answered, "Roberts."

Something about the way Cam's shoulders stiffened nearly imperceptibly caught Blair's attention. Ordinarily she barely noticed these frequent calls from an agent checking-in or an intelligence update being relayed to Cam, they were so much a part of her life. Now she found herself listening without really intending to.

"Where are you calling from?... You're sure…?When…?Are you all rig... No. Not for a day or so... Yes... Yes... I'll find you... Okay... Yes. Good."

"Problem?" Blair asked as Cam terminated the call. She was certain that Cam had been timing the conversation.

"No," Cam said automatically, her eyes cloudy, her voice distant as she moved back to the rail. She met Blair's eyes and saw the disbelief in them. She let out a long sigh as she raked a hand through her hair. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

"Is it something to do with the action in New York?"

"No. It's personal."

Blair tried to keep her face expressionless as the words registered. Personal. Personal as in personal call—as in something that is none of your business. As in—what—a lover ?Why not...we never talked about being exclusive.

"Oh," Blair finally replied. "Sorry."

She started to turn away, gathering her coffee mug and the book she'd carried out onto the deck earlier, when Cam's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Blair...it's not what you're thinking."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking," Blair answered, her voice low-pitched and controlled. Too controlled. She kept her gaze averted because she didn't want Cam to see the hurt in them. Stupid. Jesus, Blair. Grow up!

"All right then," Cam allowed softly, her fingers still curled around Blair's forearm, "in case you might have gotten the idea that it was a ... romantic issue... it wasn't."

Blair's head came up and she was about to make a vehement denial when she saw Cam's face, and the angry retort died on her tongue. Secret Service Agent Cameron Roberts, twice commended for bravery by the President of the United States, stood looking at her with worry and uncertainty in her eyes. She looked vulnerable and defenseless and Blair wanted to hold her and never let go.

"You don't have to explain. It's none of my busi..."

"Yes. It is." Cam stepped closer, forgetting where they were or who might come out through the kitchen behind them. Urgently, she added, "There's no one else. No one..."

Blair placed her fingers lightly on Cam's lips. "Stop. It's okay."

Then she kissed her security chief, swiftly but with intent, and pulled away. "I'm going for a run. Come with me."

"All right," Cam said, following her into the house, hoping that Blair really did believe her, because the wounded look in Blair's blue eyes had made her own heart bleed.

After the run, Blair showered, dressed and spent a few hours shopping on Ghirardelli Square. Davis and Foster accompanied her while Cam met with Mac to review the flight arrangements and pilot dossiers for the evening’s departure. She and Cam hadn’t mentioned the morning’s phone call again, and Blair didn’t plan to. Cam had said it wasn’t a lover, and even if it had been, the two of them certainly weren’t at a point in their relationship where she could object...as much as she wanted to.

Later in the afternoon, she read a book out on the deck, napping on and off in a lounge chair. Marcea returned in time for a late lunch, for which, to Blair's delight, Cam unexpectedly joined them. The three of them talked of art, and of old friends of Marcea's whom Cam knew from childhood, and of Blair's plans for a new project. It was the kind of easy, casual conversation that friends and lovers might have and not something she was used to sharing. It was exhilarating and by the time they were ready to leave for the airport, Blair finally was able to put the disquieting effects of Cam’s mysterious call out of her mind.

The chartered Gulfstream II turbojet seated sixteen when fully occupied and was large enough to allow the team to spread out slightly for the cross-continental flight. As was customary, the Secret Service agents boarded last and took the seats forward in the cabin, allowing Blair, already seated in a small separate area at the rear, some privacy.

Blair looked up from her book as the last passenger boarded and moved slowly down the aisle, stopping occasionally to murmur something to one of the agents along the way. She enjoyed watching the dark-haired, handsome woman approach—enjoyed the way her suit fit her so well it looked ordinary, when Blair knew it was custom cut and tailored, and she enjoyed the intense focus on her face as her grey eyes scanned every inch of the interior, and she especially enjoyed the flicker of a smile that softened the concentration on Cam’s face when their eyes met.

The security chief settled beside her just as the aircraft began to taxi down the runway of the small airport just outside San Francisco. The seats were roomy in the luxury craft, but the length of their thighs touched and their shoulders pressed lightly together nevertheless.

“Good book?” Cam asked as she buckled in.

“Mmm,” Blair nodded, closing it on one finger to mark her place. “Funny, sexy, and well put together."

"Sounds like a winning combination."

Blair brushed her fingers lightly over the top of the agent's hand where it rested on her trousered thigh. "I think so."

"Be good," Cam whispered, suppressing a grin. “I’m working.”

“Oh, really?” Blair raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “All right—I’ll give you a reprieve. But only for the rest of the flight. Then I intend to tease you as much as I like.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Blair eased the seat back and rested her hand on Cam’s forearm, below the sightline of the agents in the front of the plane if they happened to turn around.

"Any pressing plans for the rest of the week?" Cam inquired. "We haven't had an itinerary review since we've been here, and I want to get everyone back to routine. It's better after what happened."

"Nothing special," Blair replied. "Since were going to be traveling again soon, I want to work. I'm hoping to have a full show this fall, and as of right now, I don't have enough canvases completed to do that." She sighed. “There’s always the chance that something will come through from the West Wing that I need to do—I haven’t heard anything for a few days and that’s never a good sign.”

“I get a full briefing in the morning,” Cam reminded her. “We can go over the week’s itinerary after that.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be out of town for a day or so,” Cam said quietly.

Blair stiffened, automatically withdrawing her hand from Cam’s arm. “Oh?”

“If everything is quiet, I’ll leave tomorrow night. Mac will have the detail.”

Blair opened her book again. “I’m sure he can handle it.”

Cam didn’t reply, because she didn’t have any explanation that she could share, and half-truths would only make things worse. They were both quiet on the rest of the flight—Blair reading and Cam sleeping on and off. Despite the silence, however, they leaned close together, their bodies still touching—their connection not completely broken.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The jet taxied to a stop on the runway at Teterboro airport in New Jersey, just across the Hudson River from Manhattan, and the team prepared to disembark. Cam walked to the front of the plane and stood at the top of the stairway that had been rolled across the tarmac to the open door. She pressed a finger to the receiver in her ear and listened to the report of a local agent in the first of two black Suburbans that approached along an access road toward the terminal. Satisfied, she turned to the agent behind her.

“Two minutes. Let’s proceed inside.”

Stark passed her and then Blair was beside her.

“Ready?” Cam asked her.

“Yes.”

As soon as Blair stepped onto the tarmac with Cam and Stark flanking her, a horde of reporters, apparently having hidden around the corner of the building, appeared out of the darkness with video cameras and microphones at the ready. Harsh halogen lights flashed on, striking her in the face and blinding her. For a moment Blair was disoriented...and afraid.

"Ms. Powell, can you comment on the photograph in the New York Post?"

"Who was the person with you?"

"Where was it taken?"

"Can you confirm that you were with a lover?"

“Who…?”

“…name…”

"Ms. Powell... Ms. Powell... Ms. Powell..."

Voices accosted her from every direction.

As soon as the barrage began, Cam and Stark quickly began shepherding her toward the small single story terminal while the other agents clambered down the stairs and converged on her as well. Mac double-timed to get in front of the group while Hernandez, along with Felicia Davis, closed in behind. The entire team formed a human wedge with Blair in the center, and the reporters scurried to get out of the way of the fast moving wall of bodies.

Nevertheless, their shouted questions followed them through the door and into the private VIP portion of the terminal.

"What are they talking about?" Blair whispered harshly to Cam as soon as the double doors closed behind them. She hated to be manhandled, even when it was for her own good, and in that moment, Cam was the nearest target for her anger. “Why didn’t you know about them?”

"Whatever it is, it must have hit the wires after we were in the air,” Cam muttered, lifting her wrist and barking questions into her microphone. After a moment of issuing instructions, she added, “Whoever is monitoring the news services in D.C either didn't pick it up, or didn't think we needed to know about it."

Can was aggravated, because intelligence was critical for her to be able to anticipate and ward off problems. Had she known that a bevy of reporters would be waiting at the gate, she would have arranged for the transport to drive out onto the runway so that Blair would not have to walk to the terminal. "I'm sorry about this. I didn’t have an advance team on the ground—I should have."

“No,” Blair shook her head, already calmer now that the unexpected assault had stopped. "It’s not your fault. Let's just collect our luggage and get out of here before they find their way in."

“Don’t worry,” Cam said forbiddingly, her temper close to boiling. It was not only her responsibility to project Blair physically, but also to see that she was not ambushed by intrusive media hounds. She would have been angry if any of her protectees had been left open to such an affront, but the fact that it was her lover who had been subjected to the intrusive onslaught made it even worse. “They won’t bother you again.”

At that moment, Mac approached, a folded newspaper under his arm and a grim look on his face.

"What have you got?" Cam asked sharply. To her surprise, Mac blushed.

"Uh…" He lifted the folded newspaper in his hand and glanced from Cam to Blair and then quickly away. "You might want to look at this in car."

"Let me see it," Blair said, extending her hand. "It's not going to get any better if I wait."

Wordlessly, he handed it to her. The Secret Service agents standing around averted their eyes but did not move from the protective circle they had formed, shielding her from the rest of the terminal.

Cam watched Blair's face as she opened the newspaper and quickly scanned the front page. She couldn't detect the slightest change in Blair's expression. When Blair silently folded the newspaper again and put it and the book she had been carrying under her arm, Cam said abruptly, “Okay, then. Let's get out of here."

Two of the men walked to be incoming baggage belt and collected everyone's bags, loading them quickly and efficiently onto a wheeled handcart. Within minutes, the team was once again ensconced in yet another pair of Suburbans and heading out of the airport toward the Lincoln Tunnel and Manhattan.

Stark and Davis were in the front while Blair and Cam occupied the rear. The agents who were off-duty had remained at the airport, making separate arrangements for cabs or family to pick them up there.

"Are you all right?" Cam asked. Blair had been silently staring out the window since they had gotten into the vehicle.

Turning to face her, Blair smiled, her face sad in the irregular illumination of passing headlights and flickering neon signs. "I've been waiting for this. I was just sitting here, trying to think how long I've been waiting."

Cam waited but when Blair said no more she simply took the newspaper that Blair passed to her across the space between their seats. She unfolded it and held it toward the window to catch enough light to read it. Prominently displayed below the fold were a picture and the caption, "President's Daughter and Secret Lover?"

In a hazy, night shot a woman who looked very much like Blair could be seen kissing someone, although the other individual's identity was difficult to determine because of the camera angle and the obvious distance from which it had been taken.

"Son of a bitch," Cam whispered. It was a photograph of the two of them on the beach in San Francisco, the first night that Cam had arrived from D.C. She raised her eyes to Blair and said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"About what? The kiss or the photograph?"

"Definitely not the kiss."

Blair nodded once, sharply. "Good."

Cam struggled in the poor light to read the short paragraph underneath the picture. It didn't say much... just the usual titillating inferences about Blair's alleged liaisons with movie stars, underworld kingpins or elected officials that were often linked to Blair in similar publications. Precisely because she was so private, and because the White House tried diligently to keep her out of the public eye unless it was a sanctioned official function, the press loved to conjecture about her love life. Except this time they were getting awfully close to the truth.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 773