CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 9 page

"You may very well be right. On the other hand, there's nothing that the newshounds like better than something juicy involving the First Family to use as filler while waiting for the next meteorological catastrophe or military atrocity."

"Fine. Tell them it was a date and let it go at that."

"Oh, come now. A middle of the night assignation on a beach in a city half the mid-West thinks is the reincarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah? Don't pretend to be naive because I know better. Here in the White House our motto is to be prepared. I don't like to be blindsided by anything, but particularly not by something that reflects directly on the President's family."

Blair was silent, because she knew that already and that was part of the reason she had come to see Lucinda. Finally, she said, "What do you want?"

"If you're going to embark on a public relationship, then we need to be able to say something about it when asked, and you know damn well we will be asked. So, give me the details now."

"You can say that I'm seriously involved with another woman. I won't give you her name."

Lucinda's expression didn't change. Blair assumed that this news was probably not a surprise, because Lucinda was too astute not to have known before this. But there was a world of difference between assumption and knowledge.

"Well, that will take some handling,” Lucinda answered in a controlled tone. “If you refuse to name her, it will only make people think you have something else to hide. You'll be hounded to death over it. Is there something I need to know about her...some scandal, some dark hidden past?"

"No."

"And I don't suppose you'd be willing to put this affair under wraps until after the President has the party endorsement for reelection?"

"That's more than a year away."

"Do you want to tell me that you think one year is too long for you to wait? Or is it her? If the woman has any substance..."

"You're stepping over the line, Luce."

Lucinda Washburn’s dark eyes flashed with ire, but she held her breath for a long second, then exhaled slowly. "Blair, your father has only eight years...maximum...to hold the most powerful position in the world. He can accomplish amazing things for this country and for the future of the world during those eight years. Tell me you don't care about that. Tell me you're willing to risk that."

That had always been the issue, of course. Everyone in her father’s inner circle, Lucinda included, had sacrificed their personal life to put him where he was. Some never had time for relationships, and those who did rarely kept them long. As his daughter, it wasn't as simple as balancing her father's political ambitions with her own need for an independent, honest life. It was the rightness of placing the personal above the greater good. Looking at it the way Lucinda had put it, her desire for personal happiness seemed selfish. "I've been quiet about my life for over ten years. I've avoided any kind of public statement or disclosure. I didn't mean for that photograph to be in the newspaper. I can't change who I am, even for my father's benefit."

“I’m not asking you to change. I am asking you not to advertise.”

“I’ve tried the “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” approach to life. It’s a lot like living in a prison.”

For one brief instant, Blair saw sympathy in Lucinda’s face. Then it was gone. “You’re your father’s daughter, Blair. You’ll make the right decision.”

They didn’t embrace as they parted, and as Blair passed the closed door to the Oval Office and the pair of Secret service agents flanking it, she saw Cam’s face and wondered if she had the strength to do the right thing.

Shortly before midnight, Cam opened the door to her apartment and ushered Claire inside. Claire was in street clothes with only the barest hint of makeup, and she seemed younger, more vulnerable. Nevertheless, in only a plain white blouse, dark slacks, and low heels, she was still beautiful.

"Are you all right?" Cam asked immediately as the two of them stood facing one another just inside the door.

"Yes, I'm fine," Claire assured her, although her voice rung hollowly.

"Did you notice anyone following you?"

Claire shook her head and smiled wanly. "No, I don't think so, but I'm not certain I'd notice if they did. Subterfuge is not something I ordinarily need to employ. The security built into our business is enough to insure everyone's safety."

"It probably doesn't matter at this point. Come sit down."

Claire laid her purse on the table just inside the door and walked across the living room to the sofa. Cam joined her, and without being asked, handed her a glass of wine.

“Thank you." She sipped the wine and said quietly, "I called you because there’ve been more questions. I’m apparently on the list now, too.”

“Who approached you...a client?”

“Yes.”

“A man?”

“Not the first time, no.”

Cam didn’t let her surprise show. She’d thought it might have been Doyle. Now she didn’t know what to think.

“Someone you knew?”

“A new client. Apparently referred by an impeccable source, but I don’t know who. I wouldn’t.”

“And she asked about me?”

“Not directly. Just vague questions about how many people from the Hill used the service. Wondering what kind of company she was in—nothing very specific, and if I hadn’t known about the others being questioned, I might not have noticed.” She drew a breath, as if steeling herself to continue. “Then a man asked about you.”

"What exactly did he ask?" Cam inquired quietly.

"He didn't actually use your name. He showed me a photograph and asked me if I knew you."

"Was he a client, too?"

"He posed as one," Claire said with just a hint of distaste. "I could tell immediately that something was wrong, because he was uncomfortable."

Cam raised an eyebrow in question.

"The type of people I'm used to dealing with are not uncomfortable by our transactions."

"Of course." They were all civilized and business-like and emotionally remote. Like she had been...at first. When did that change? When we exchanged names?

"At any rate, he wasn't interested in anything physical. He was clearly stalling...trying to get me to talk about the business. When I didn't, he resorted to strong-arm tactics."

"Did he touch you?" Cam stiffened and loosely clasped her fingers over Claire's forearm.

"No, not like that," Claire quickly replied, covering Cam's hand with hers. "He mostly blustered and threatened and suggested that I could go to jail."

"For what?"

"That's what I asked him," Claire said with a dismissive shrug. "This is not some backroom operation with a shady client list. In every sense of the word, this is a high-powered business with even higher-powered clientele. Anyone who tried to expose some of our clients would probably end up in jail themselves."

"That's when he showed you the picture?"

She nodded. "Yes. I think at that point he realized he wasn't going to get anything from me and just decided to see how I would react."

"Claire," Cam said gently, placing her hands back on her own thighs. "I don't want you to protect me. You need to protect yourself, even if that means revealing your association with me."

Claire turned on the sofa until her knees were touching Cam's. She rested her hand on Cam's blue jean clad leg. The touch was intimate but not seductive. "I wouldn't do that."

"No matter what happens in the future...if for some reason you have to testify to anything, don't perjure yourself on my account. There's nothing illegal about what we've done. No one can prove the financial transaction, and even if they could, it’s debatable whether any crime was involved."

"You're right about that. It would be virtually impossible to trace the business' income to any particular person."

"What are you going to do?"

Claire smiled sadly. "I'm going to retire."

They were both silent, because they both knew what that meant. In all likelihood, they would never see one another again.

"Are you leaving D.C?" Cam asked softly.

"I don't know yet. Probably."

"This whole thing may blow over. I have a feeling it's just a fishing expedition...probably a small group of people trying to dig up any kind of inflammatory information on anyone they possibly can. There may be no point or direction to this investigation at all." She rubbed her eyes and grimaced. "Still, I think it's best if you get out since they've clearly identified you as part of the organization."

"I have a feeling there's going to be an imminent restructuring of the business. Probably a complete turnover of the escorts, too. At this point, everyone is suspect."

"If you need anything," Cam said, "anytime...you know how to find me."

"Thank you. Part of the reason I was in this business is that it's been very lucrative. You needn't worry about anything like that."

"I just meant..."

Claire placed her fingers gently against Cam's mouth. "I know what you meant."

They were both very still, Claire's fingers motionless against Cam's face. Finally she moved her hand to Cam's neck and held her gaze steadily. In a low voice, her body trembling, she asked, "Is there someone?"

Cam raised her hand and drew Claire's fingers to her lips again, then kissed them softly before letting them go. "Yes."

"I thought there must be. These last few months...you've been gone."

"I..."

The sound of the doorbell interrupted her sentence and Cam murmured, "I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Surprised that the doorman had not phoned to announce a visitor, she quickly crossed to the door and glanced through the peephole. Too stunned even to curse, she opened the door to Blair Powell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“What are you doing in D.C?" Cam asked incredulously.

"Sorry to show up unannounced," Blair replied lightly. Hands in the pockets of her jeans, her face was alight with a smile of pleasure she couldn’t hide. When Cam didn’t answer, her smile faded. Then, aware of the consternation on Cam's face she asked, "What's wrong?"

Cam stepped into the hall and glanced up and down, pulling the door nearly closed behind her. "Where's the team?"

"My primary detail is at a hotel. The White House detail thinks I'm asleep."

"Goddamn it, Blair, I thought we were passed this by now."

"Listen, Cameron," Blair said sharply, confused by Cam's anger even though she had expected her to be annoyed. "I wanted to see you. No, I needed to see you."

Cam closed her eyes and sighed. When she spoke, her voice was soft, the edge gone. "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to impress upon you that you can't be running around the city by yourself."

"I wasn't running around. I took a cab." She brushed her hand over Cam's chest and bumped Cam’s leg playfully with her hip. "So can I come in?"

"I’m sorry. No."

Blair stared at her, bewildered. "Why not? Don't tell me that you're going to get all huffy about the fact that the team doesn't know where I am. If it will make you happier, I'll use my cell phone to call the White House detail commander. I've done it before."

"It's not that." She hesitated, searching for the right words, and then realized that there weren't any. "There's someone here."

"Someone..." Blair stared at her, searching Cam's eyes and finding nothing but sorrow. "Are you finished or is she staying the night for round two?"

"Of course not. Damn it, Blair..."

"My mistake—I should have called."

Before Cam could protest, Blair turned on her heel, rapidly crossed the hallway, and pushed through the fire door to the stairwell. The last thing Cam heard were her boot heels echoing hollowly on the stairs.

Blair was leaning against a lamp post in a faint circle of light on the corner in front of Cam's apartment building when a woman came through the front door ten minutes later. She didn't need to be told who the blond was...she just knew. As if by design, the woman turned in her direction and their eyes met. Blair pushed away from the pole and started up the sidewalk as the other woman walked towards her. They met on the edge of the flickering shadows cast by the streetlight.

"I'd introduce myself," the woman said in a smooth, rich alto, "but that might not be a very good idea."

"No," Blair agreed. "Cameron would only remind us that what we don't know, we can't testify to."

"Precisely."

"Your idea to leave or hers?" Blair asked conversationally.

"Hers. Did you doubt it?"

Blair shrugged. "Now and then."

"You don't have to."

"I might believe that in a decade or two."

The blond smiled wistfully. "I should go—she’s pretty worried about you."

"I seem to have that effect on her."

"Apparently much more than that. You're very lucky."

"I could say the same thing about you," Blair said without rancor. "She's come to you for comfort, hasn't she?"

"No...only to forget. You have her heart." The blond extended her hand. "Goodnight then. I don't believe I'll be seeing you again."

"Goodnight."

And then she was gone.

When the elevator doors opened on Cam's floor, Blair found herself face to face with a very harried-looking Secret Service agent.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked, one arm holding the doors open as the bell sounded behind her in the car. Cam wore only threadbare jeans, a plain cotton shirt and loafers without socks. She didn’t even appear to have her gun.

"To look for you."

"What made you think I didn't go straight back to the White House?" Blair asked as she stepped out of the elevator and the doors closed behind her, leaving them in the sudden hush of the deserted hallway.

"I knew you wouldn't go there."

Blair leaned one shoulder against the wall and studied Cam's face. Only the lingering hurt of imagining Cam in the arms of the alluring blond kept her from reaching out and stroking away the pain that was etched in her face. "Where did you think I'd go?"

Cam shrugged. "A club."

"And someone else's bed?"

Cam flinched as if struck. "Blair, please..."

Blair took Cam's hand and pulled her across the hall toward the apartment door. "We can’t do this out here."

Wordlessly, Cam fitted her key to the lock, unable to stop the faint trembling in her hands. She'd been more than frightened when Blair had disappeared down the stairwell. She'd been terrified that Blair would rush headlong into the night, driven by pain and anger and betrayal into the solace of someone else's arms. She'd seen her do it before, and it had been agony to watch even the first time—before she’d loved her. Now, it would kill her.

Finally, she was able to get the door open and the two of them stepped inside. The room glowed faintly with moonlight and a sliver of illumination that slanted into the room from beyond a partially closed door on the other side of the apartment.

"She's very beautiful, isn’t she," Blair said abruptly, stopping just inside the entrance to the large living room.

"Blair..."

"Do you love her?"

"No," Cam exclaimed hoarsely, struggling not to touch her. The hard ring of Blair's voice, like steel striking stone, warned her to keep her distance. "Let me expl..."

"You've slept with her though, haven’t you?"

"Yes. But—"

“Tonight?”

“No! Not for a long time. Will you..."

“Did she make you co—"

“Christ, Blair. Stop it.”

"It makes me crazy to think about it," Blair whispered, her voice breaking.

It was the anguish in her voice more than the cold anger that cracked Cam's resolve. She caught her around the waist and pulled her hard against her chest. With her face buried in Blair's hair, she murmured, "I know. God, I know."

Blair's arms came around her shoulders, and her cheek, wet with tears she hadn't known she’d shed, brushed against Cam's.

"Oh Jesus, don't cry," Cam begged, nearly choking on her own desperate need to comfort her. "It's not what you think. I swear to God."

"Don't talk anymore," Blair pleaded, her fingers digging into Cam’s arms. "Just please...make it stop hurting."

"I will,” Cam pledged fervently. “I promise, I will."

Then Cam found Blair’s hand and led her through the apartment to her bedroom. By the side of the bed, she tenderly kissed first her eyes, then the corner of her mouth, then the smooth skin of her neck. Lightly, she stroked her fingers along her jaw, over her shoulders, her thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts across the rise of her nipples.

Blair caught her lower lip between her teeth and swallowed a small cry. Lids fluttering, eyes unfocused, she rested her hands on Cam's shoulders for support as her lover slowly undressed her.

When Cam unzipped Blair's jeans and slipped her hands underneath the bottom of her T-shirt, smoothing her palms across her stomach, Blair's muscles flickered under her touch, and for an instant, Cam was afraid she would forget herself. Slowly, she drew the shirt over Blair’s head and dropped it to the floor. Then, deliberately, she knelt, feeling Blair's hands move from her shoulders and into her hair. Gently, she hooked her fingers over the waistband of Blair's jeans and worked them down over her hips, lowering them until Blair could kick off her boots and step free of her pants. Then Blair stood naked, exposed and vulnerable, as Cam rested her cheek against the hollow at the base of Blair's abdomen. She wrapped her arms around Blair's hips, and, eyes closed, listened to the rush of blood through the arteries and veins just beneath the delicate skin where body joined thigh, her own heart quickening to echo the racing pulse. With one hand, she stroked the soft skin on the inside of Blair's leg, moving upward, gently teasing her thighs apart, circling a fingertip through the wet heat until Blair swayed in her arms, her breath a tumble of small moans. Finally, she shifted until she could press her mouth to the center of Blair's passion, finding her clitoris hard and full with need.

"Cam," Blair whispered, her neck arched, the muscles of her jaw tight as her thighs trembled in expectation.

Parting her lips, Cam enclosed her, sucking lightly.

"Oh," Blair breathed, her hands fisting in Cam's hair. "Don't. Not like this...I'll come right away."

Cam heard the edge of urgency in her voice and pulled her mouth away, rising rapidly and gathering her close once again. With her lips against Blair's ear, she rasped, "I love you so damn much."

"Take off your clothes. I need to have you...everywhere."

Cam stepped away while Blair stretched out on top of her bed. Feverishly, eyes glued to Blair's body, Cam stripped off her shirt and jeans, pulling her loafers off with her clothes. Then she lowered herself on top of Blair, fitting one leg between Blair's thighs, their breasts just touching as she supported herself on her elbows, her palms framing Blair's head. She rocked slowly into the space between Blair’s legs, feeling the prominence of her clitoris against her thigh, the slick sheen of need along her skin. Their faces were only inches apart, but she did not kiss her yet.

Staring into Blair's eyes, her dark gaze holding Blair captive, Cam said fiercely, "Being with you makes me forget ever touching another woman. Being with you makes me forget that anyone else ever touched me. Being with you is what keeps me alive."

Blair’s body tightened with the force of Cam’s voice as much as the press of her flesh, and, as if she had been stroked in some essential place, the words tore through her, obliterating a lifetime of loss. She arched beneath Cam's weight, a cry wrenched from her lips. Then, arms wrapped tightly around her lover, she came.

"God, you're beautiful," Cam gasped as Blair jerked beneath her.

When Blair quieted, Cam collapsed onto the bed beside her and pulled her into her arms. She pressed a kiss into her hair and whispered again, "I love you."

Blair pressed her face to the hollow between Cam's neck and shoulder and breathed in her scent, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by her, immersed in her, lost to her. After what might have been a moment, or an hour, she murmured, "I wanted you from the minute you walked into my apartment that first day, all spit and polish and businesslike. At first I wanted you because I wanted to control you and not have it be the other way around. Then I wanted you because every time I saw you, you made me ache. Now I want you because the thought of being without you terrifies me."

"Didn't you forget the part about me being such a stud?" Cam said quietly, tightening her grip on the woman in her arms.

"Oh that." Blair laughed shakily, and kissed Cam's neck. "Yeah, that too."

"I know I don't have words to tell you what you mean to me," Cam continued, her voice choked with feeling. "I don't think anything will ever make you understand except the days turning into weeks and then into months and finally into years...and I'll still be here, loving you."

Blair stroked her hand across Cam's shoulder and down her chest, lingering on her breasts before drawing her fingertips down the center of her abdomen. Cam tensed under her touch, her breath catching.

"There something about touching you that makes me feel like I'm god," Blair said softly into the darkness.

"I know."

"The thought of anyone else..."

"Don't think it. It won't happen."

As if suddenly revitalized, Blair shifted on the bed and straddled Cam's hips. She leaned down with one hand on either side of Cam's shoulders, her breasts inches from Cam's face, her eyes bright with purpose. "I have this thing about what is mine. I don't like to share."

"Neither do I."

"Good," Blair murmured just before she claimed Cam's mouth, the kiss hard and possessive.

The kiss lasted a long time. It was more than a kiss, it was an assertion of belonging and owning and joining. Cam opened herself to the depth of Blair's desire, letting her have whatever she demanded, giving her willingly all that she needed, reveling in the surrender that felt like nothing but freedom.

When Blair pushed down on the bed and placed her hands between Cam's thighs, Cam arched her back and lifted her hips, offering all that she had. When Blair thrust inside her, fast and hard, a light burst behind her eyes, and her fists closed emptily on the air. The power of it struck deep in her bones, and her blood soared beyond her control. Thighs trembling, breath caught between heartbeats, she came soundlessly, unable even to cry out, suspended for an eternity between heaven and earth. Finally, she lay gasping, sweat-soaked and trembling with Blair sagged against her, weakly moaning her name.

Somewhere between love and desire, they slept.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 690