“Oh?”

“Cam and I intend to get married this fall.”

“That may be problematic, since same-sex marriages aren’t legally recognized anywhere in the United States.”

“Neither is my sexual orientation,” Blair said, “but that hasn’t stopped me, and it never will. We won’t have any difficulty finding someone to perform the ceremony, legal or not.”

“That will be difficult to keep quiet,” Lucinda said.

“It wasn’t my intention to keep it quiet.” At Lucinda’s look of surprise, Blair went on, “I’m not planning on taking out an ad in the New York Times, but I’m not going to sneak around with this either.”

“The first person outside of your immediate circle who gets a hint of this will go straight to the papers with it. A caterer, a dressmaker, even someone you think is a friend…this is going to be news, Blair, and people will pay for this kind of information.”

Blair flushed. She hated the thought that her life was tabloid material. “I can’t stop that. I’ve never been able to.”

“Well, at least consider the timing.” Lucinda sat forward. “We’ll be facing midterm elections soon and then swinging directly into the presidential reelection campaign. Your timing couldn’t be worse for something like this.”

“Something like this,” Blair said flatly. “Something like this would be my life, Lucinda.”

“I know,” Lucinda said gently. “I know, and I know how much of your life has been overshadowed by your father’s career. I’m not going to apologize for that, but I do know.”

Blair rubbed her forehead. “Don’t switch sides on me now, Lucinda. Just stick with the hard-ass routine.”

Lucinda smiled. “You’re going to expose your personal life to international scrutiny. To say nothing of fueling every right wing fanatic in this country. Do you really want that?”

“What I want is to do what feels right for myself and my lover and our relationship without worrying about the politics of it.” Blair sighed. “Don’t tell me you can’t figure out a way to spin it.”

“Probably. At least give me time to work on that.”

“I’ll postpone hiring a fl oat.”

“Thank you.” Lucinda glanced at her watch and then rose. “I’ve got a budget meeting, so I’ll get back to you on this.”

“I’ll let you know before I leave town.”

“Good. By the way, there’s a fundraiser in Boston this weekend that I need you to attend.”

“I can’t do it, Luce. There’s just too much going on right now.”

“I understand.” Lucinda walked back to her desk, sat down, and drew a file toward her. “It’s for stem cell research. One of the primary investigators at Harvard will be there, and I just thought you might want to show your support.”

“Damn it.” Blair had no doubt that proponents of stem cell research, including major pharmaceutical companies, were lobbying hard in Washington to prevent legislation aimed at restricting the source of tissues used for the studies. Her father couldn’t publicly issue a statement in favor of the research, but she could, as the daughter of a woman who died of breast cancer. Her presence at the fundraiser would send a clear message as to the White House’s position. Despite the fact that she didn’t like to be used as a White House front person, she happened to believe in this research. She yanked open the door. “I’ll be there. E-mail me the details.”

“That’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Blair closed the door without answering. As usual after leaving Lucinda, she was never certain if she’d won or lost the skirmish. She walked briskly past Paula and Felicia and pulled out her cell phone.

“How’s it going?” she asked when Cam answered.

“I’m going to be here most of the day. You?”

“Bloodied, but unbowed.”

Cam laughed. “What about the rest of your plans? Any changes?”

“No. And you don’t have to say it. I’ll be careful.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later, then.”

“All right. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Blair closed her phone, smiling. She wondered what the national security chief thought about that.

Chapter Eight

“Are you ready for some serious shopping?” Blair held up Diane’s coat. She hoped that the diversion would take Diane’s mind off Valerie, but knew it wouldn’t. She’d been there too many times herself, not knowing what was happening with someone she loved, not being able to help or protect them.

Diane smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her smooth, milky complexion was even paler than normal, and lines of tension marred the sleek planes of her face. Diane was ordinarily so poised and kept her emotions so tightly reined that to see those cracks in her composure made Blair’s heart ache. It also made her angry. Angry at Valerie for involving Diane when she must have known something like this could happen, at the political system that so effortlessly ignored the human consequences of its policies, and even at herself, for not knowing the best way to help her friend.

“The Shops at Georgetown?” Blair suggested.

“Let’s start on M Street and finish up inside.”

“Done.” Blair grinned when she heard Stark muffle a groan. Many of the trendy boutiques on M Street in Georgetown fronted a portion of the four-story mall that housed over seventy shops and restaurants. It was the best shopping in DC. She hooked her arm through Diane’s as they stepped out into the foyer and pushed the button for the elevator. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” Diane whispered.

Paula slid into the elevator next to them. “I don’t suppose you could think of a slightly less crowded place for your retail therapy?”

“What, and take all the fun out of it?” Blair feigned shock. She knew from experience that her security agents hated it when she went to large, crowded places where it was impossible for them to set up advance surveillance. But if she let that dictate her movements, she’d never go to a movie or a street fair or a shopping mall. Until the recent attacks, outings such as this had been more an inconvenience than a serious security issue, and that was all the more reason for her not to change her behavior now.

“Fun,” Paula muttered. “More like hell.”

“You never know.” Blair laughed as the elevator opened and they all stepped out. “You might end up enjoying it.”

Paula, busy alerting Hara in the vehicle idling at the curb that they were exiting, didn’t bother to object.

“Oh, goody,” Blair said as Felicia moved up beside her, “girls’ day out.”

“We didn’t think Greg would mind if I took his shift this afternoon,” Felicia said. “Hi Diane.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Diane said, as she climbed into the rear of the Suburban next to Blair. “How’s Mac doing?”

Felicia’s smile widened. “He’s out of the hospital and doing very well.”

“I suppose he’s chafing to get back to work.”

“He’s like the rest of us. If we’re not working, we tend to get into trouble.” Felicia glanced at Stark. “I know he misses being part of the team.”

“The team misses him,” Stark said.

“Hopefully, he’ll be back soon,” Blair said, wondering if Mac would resume his duties as secondin-command and communications officer. That would be up to Paula now. Felicia had taken over Mac’s responsibilities when he was shot during the assassination attempt at the Aerie, but her real expertise was intelligence and data analysis. “Tell him I said hi.”

“I will,” Felicia replied. “Where are we headed?”

“Georgetown Park,” Paula said with a grimace.

Felicia’s eyes widened. “Oh, I should be getting hazard pay. To be surrounded by all that trendy glitter and not be able to window shop. That’s harsh.”

Blair laughed. Even though she loved Mac and enjoyed Greg Wozinski’s dry humor and subtle sensitivity, if she had to have close surveillance twenty-four hours a day, it was so nice to have female agents. They understood about shopping.

Nevertheless, three hours later, Blair found that even Paula was as grumpy as any of the male agents who had ever accompanied her on a shopping excursion.

“I’m just going to try on these dresses.” She gave Paula a winning smile. “I need something for the fundraiser this weekend.”

“It feels like divine punishment that we’re shopping at a place called the White House,” Paula said with a sigh.

“Maybe it’s cosmic destiny,” Blair said as she carried another stack of clothing into the dressing room. “If you see Diane, tell her I’m in here. She went to check out the shoes.”

“Fine. Great.” Paula turned her back to the dressing room door and folded her arms. It wasn’t that she minded shopping so much, she just didn’t like to do it for hours on end. And when she went shopping, it was always with something specific in mind—a new pair of shoes or a suit to replace one that got torn up or soiled during work. It was never just to check out the latest styles. She scanned the dress department, automatically reviewing the faces to see if any seemed familiar from other stores, other departments. She didn’t recognize anyone and was comfortable that they were not being followed. Felicia, posted in the aisle between the dresses and accessories, was doing the same thing. Hara had drawn the short straw and stayed with the vehicle.

Idly, Paula watched a woman pull a white halter dress from a rack and hold it up in front of her body. The unexpected mental picture of Renée in that dress stirred a hum of arousal in the pit of her stomach, and she swiftly looked away. Felicia was right. Shopping was dangerous duty.

Diane lifted a Louboutin black lace and suede pump with a peep toe, thinking it would go well with the dress she was planning to wear to the fundraiser Blair had invited her to. Ordinarily, she would have looked forward to a gala event, but it was hard to be excited about a night out now.